Page 3 of Satan's Son

You have to be kidding me!

“Do you protest any of these charges?”

I opened my mouth to protest but nothing came out. I ground my teeth at the young man, who was leaning back casually in his chair now, as if I was amusing him.

“No.” He arched an eyebrow. With a devilish smile, he turned the page in the book in front of him. “I, Prince Ethan Beast, son of Lucifer, on behalf of Hell’s Council, find you guilty of these charges, and you will serve your sentence as a guider.”

My mouth dropped. He was the son of who? And on whose behalf? And I was to what? Why the hell was I being sentenced in the first place?

“Have something to say?” He smirked at me. “No?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped and was once again surprised to hear my voice. Taking the chance while I still had it, I continued, “Where the hell am I? And those arson and theft charges are ridiculous!”

“Too late to challenge the charges.” He glared at me. “You have already been sentenced. Now move.”

He nodded his head and a woman stepped out from the shadows. I shiftily dodged her arm as she reached for me and gave her a filthy look.

“Keep your dirty hands to yourself!” I turned to look at Ethan. “Sentenced? You can’t sentence me; you aren’t a judge! Plus, I already did the whole detention thing for theaccidentalfire, which had nothing to do with me.” I pointed a finger at him.

“Lying again,” he said smugly. “You can’t lie to me, Addison.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not.”

“Faith.” He turned to the woman, who was trying to manhandle me. “Get rid of her.”

“Get rid of me?” I scoffed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Because you have nowhere to go.” He crossed his arms with a smug expression. “You don’t even know where you are.”

“When did your brain cells start working? Before or after I stated that fact?” I arched an eyebrow. “Not the smartest little beast, are we?”

“Don’t mock me,” he roared. So, he was touchy when it came to his last name. A sly smirk spread across my lips as his face went a slighter darker shade of red. I mimicked him, knowing at any minute that my voice would be gone again. How that happened, I didn’t know. Maybe this was a bad dream?

“You can apply for a retrial in ten years,” he yelled and slammed a gavel against the table.

Ten years?

What the heck!

“That’s it! I’m going home,” I shouted. “I’m sick of this. You can go screw yourself.”

“Screw myself?” He looked mildly disgusted. “Do you haveanyrespect in you?”

“Not for you.” I crossed my arms. “Now I want to go home.”

Low chuckles echoed through the room.

Ethan smirked, and his eyes went slightly darker. “Well, that won’t be happening.” He gestured his hand for what’s-her-face to come and get me.

“Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what I will and won’t be doing?” I snapped, my voice coated with venom. “And where the hellamI!”

Ethan rose from his seat with an air of authority and a devilish smirk still playing on his lips. “You’re in Hell, and I’m the devil’s son.”

My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t express my tumultuous emotions, but I knew he wasn’t joking.

Oh, shit! My life has just gone to Hell.

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