Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 455: Put In The Work

The incessant pounding on the front door rattled the hinges, causing my temper to reach new heights. I was finally getting somewhere with my guys. We were open, talking, figuring out our places... and now, some wack-a-doodle wanted to interrupt.

Fuck him and the horse he rode in on.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the closest shirt, which happened to be Dimitri’s, and yanked it over my head. "It’s like people don’t value their lives anymore," I muttered, stomping down the stairs and toward the front door before any of the guys could catch up.

Even Tank was a few steps behind, which I was sure was frustrating to him.

When I flung the door open, Bishop was already mid-knock, looking like death incarnate with soot on his face, blood on his boots, and that familiar demon glint in his eyes. A dozen people trailed behind him, nervously waiting at the base of the steps like he was Moses about to part the Bayou.

"Morning, Sunshine," I said flatly, blinking up at him. I completely ignored the fact that I was naked under Dimitri’s black t-shirt. I mean, it covered my ass, barely, so it was longer than most shorts. "You have three seconds to explain why you woke me before I wish you into a cockroach."

Bishop didn’t flinch. "I need your help," he demanded, his face completely impassive as if it was my duty to help him.

I mean, I was impressed that he had managed to turn over a new leaf, and I didn’t really want to kill him at the moment, but that was the best I could do. I didn’t owe him jack-shit.

"No," I replied, my voice just as impassive as his own had been. "Whatever you are selling, the answer is no."

"You haven’t even heard what I need—" growled Bishop, his black eyes dancing as his temper started to rise. Well, fucker, welcome to the club. My temper rose to match his until the two of us were standing army boots to bare feet, as I glared at his chest.

"I said no," I repeated, tilting my head back. "But go ahead. Amuse me. What is it that you need? What is it that you want so badly that you would knock on the doors of the Devil herself and make demands this early in the morning?"

He stepped inside like he owned the place, which was bold considering every Sin in the house had just gone on high alert. "It’s already the afternoon. If you are just waking up now, then that’s your problem, not mine. Sanctuary’s gone. The humans that survived are scattered. We’ve got a chance to rebuild everything from scratch—stronger, smarter, better."

"And?" I demanded. He was the one who wanted to take over Sanctuary; he was the one who wanted to kill all the heads that had originally run it. I failed to see how this was a me problem.

"And I can’t do it alone," he grunted in reply.

Staring at him, I leaned to the side to see the soldiers and people standing behind him. "It doesn’t look like you are alone at all. But let me get this straight—you showed up to my door, demanding my help, because suddenly you realize building a society isn’t as easy as stabbing a few assholes in the neck?"

He bristled. "This isn’t just about rebuilding. It’s about creating something new. A world where humans live under demon protection, safe and ordered. I thought you’d want that. Hell, it was your idea to divide the world."

"That’s cute," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "But this isn’t my wish. It’s yours. You’re the one who wanted the Sanctuary. You’re the one who wanted the power. So now you get to do the work."

Bishop’s jaw tightened even as his face turned red from embarrassment. Let me guess, he thought he could come here with a bunch of people, thinking that he could morally kidnap me or something. Now, seeing as I don’t have any morals, and really didn’t give a fuck about anyone other than my guys, he really was barking up the wrong tree.

Now, he was standing here with egg on his face, simply because he had me in his pocket.

"Hattie—this is easy for you. You can snap your fingers and have cities rise from the dirt. You’re the Devil. For me, it’s a logistical nightmare. I don’t even know where to start," growled Bishop, dropping his voice so that it couldn’t carry to the men behind him.

"Not my problem," I said, crossing my arms. "This is your kingdom now, little king. You asked to be in control, and you got it. Don’t come begging me to build it for you."

Bishop was silent for a long time, his eyes studying my face as if he was trying to find a weakness. Finally, he shook his head. "I thought you cared about people. About them surviving."

I tilted my head, amused. "What gave you that impression?" I demanded with a scoff. I mean, he did remember that nothing came free, right? That even if I granted his wish and built the perfect city for him to govern over, he would still have to pay a price.

Bishop flinched as he looked behind me, trying to find someone amongst my guys to take his side. Spoiler alert, he didn’t.

"Here’s the thing," I said, taking a step back. "I don’t care about the people. I don’t care about cities or kingdoms or thrones. I like chaos. I like games. I like wishes. I want to have fun. Do you understand that? You want to rule? Fine. But you don’t get to wish for a crown and then whine that you have to put in the work."

He looked like he wanted to argue. But then his shoulders slumped, just slightly.

"You’re not going to help at all?" he asked, quieter.

I shrugged. "You’ve got demons. You’ve got a broken world. You’ve got a half-decent head on your shoulders. That should be more than enough. But if it makes you feel better, build something interesting enough, and maybe I’ll visit."

With that, I turned on my heel and shut the door in his face.

Behind me, Ronan whistled low. "Remind me never to ask you for a favor."

"Smart man," I smirked. "Now...whoever finds coffee gets a kiss. Maybe more."