by Sadie Moss
I can’t believe the men are acting like this. It’s so strange. It’s like… like they care.
And now that I’m awake and somewhat coherent again, I realize how much danger I was in. Morrigan was intending to drain me dry; I’m sure of it. And if the men hadn’t stopped her, she could’ve killed me.
It’s a scary thought, a painful reminder of the fact that I’m not exactly the most powerful angel out there. And that maybe my own trusting nature makes me weak. Makes me vulnerable and open to attacks that I can’t anticipate.
It’s clear to me that if I was on my own in this, I would’ve died. If I tried to close this portal by myself… well, I wouldn’t have gotten this far in the first place because I wouldn’t have gotten any of the information without the help of the sins and their contacts.
But even if I had somehow gotten this far and needed help from Morrigan, I would be dead now if I had come alone. It’s thanks to the men that I’m alive in this moment, and my stomach is erupting in butterflies that have nothing to do with how woozy I am from the blood loss. They seem to care—that’s what I keep coming back to.
They don’t, I remind myself as fiercely as I can manage. They don’t care about you. It’s just because you owe them a favor. Or because they want to use you just like Morrigan did.
But for some reason, that thought doesn’t hold as much weight to me as it did before. It feels more like an excuse, a mantra I keep trying to hide behind. Because it’s scary to believe that they could actually care. It feels dangerous, in a way that I’ve never known danger before. It’s too confusing, too frightening, to allow myself to believe it.
The idea that they were scared to lose me…
I can’t handle that.
Maybe it makes me a coward. But it’s so much easier to just keep things in their neat little boxes.
They’re sins.
I’m an angel.
Like the witch said, those two things don’t mix.
Like oil and water.
Before my thoughts can spiral any more, the door opens. Ford steps back just enough so that Morrigan can exit, Phoenix right behind her. Ford’s not giving her a whole lot of personal space, glaring at her like he’s seconds way from ripping her throat out. Morrigan seems to be making a concerted effort to ignore him, but she’s not doing all that great of a job at it. I can’t blame her for being nervous. Wrath is enough to strike fear in anyone.
Beckett stands up and takes a step to his right, subtly putting himself directly in between Morrigan and me. Remington’s on my right side still, already standing, but he takes a small step toward me as well, making it clear that he’s ready to attack Morrigan again if she tries anything.
Phoenix walks past Morrigan, nodding at Beckett, but he doesn’t walk all the way over. He puts himself in between Morrigan and me too.
My stomach flips.
They’re just protecting their asset, I tell myself. I’m an asset, like stocks in a company. I’m not a person to them. Not in the same way.
Maybe if I keep telling myself this, I’ll believe it—although honestly, I’m not sure what I believe anymore.
“Now, now, my boys. You needn’t get yourselves in a tangle. All is well.” Morrigan smiles and tilts her head at us. “I have given your brother the charm, and you have the body. If you use the charm, infused with power as I have made it, you will be able to command the body to undo what it did. It will seal the portal, just as it once opened it. Do you understand?”
“Yes. We know our way around magic and demons, witch,” Beckett says a trifle impatiently, like he’s finally at the end of a board meeting and he wants to hurry up and get this over with.
Morrigan nods. “To be sure, to be sure. Then you’ll know how to go about it.”
“Great. We’re leaving.” Ford gives us all a get up, get going gesture, fury still flashing in his eyes.
Remington holds out his hand and I take it, letting him help me to my feet. Beckett puts his hand on my lower back, and between the two of them, I feel steady.
Phoenix turns to head out, but he stops when it becomes obvious that Ford isn’t quite ready to leave yet.
The blond-haired brawler takes a step toward Morrigan instead, his voice lowering dangerously. “Listen to me, witch. If you even think about screwing her over, we’re going to fuckin’ destroy you. We were old before you existed, and we’re gonna be around long after you turn to fuckin’ dust. You think all your fuckin’ toying with death is gonna save you from Wrath itself? I got Death’s number on speed dial, you get me? We’re poker buddies. I beat the shit out of him for fun on Saturdays.”
His words are kind of trashy, the sort of words that you would expect to hear between two wrestlers before they go after each other, all for show.
But his body language is anything but that.
He looks like he’s living up to his sin once again, rage taut in the lines of his body. His muscles are tense, his shoulders drawn back a bit, his fists clenched and out from his sides like he’s ready to punch her or wrap a hand around her throat.
Despite her nonchalant attitude when we first arrived, Morrigan looks honestly terrified now.
I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want all of that aggression directed at me. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to Ford’s rage, or if I’ll always feel it like it’s the first time, surprising and a bit scary. I wonder if I’ll ever feel completely safe around him.
Truthfully, in the moment when I woke up to see Ford and the others gazing down at me and realized they’d rescued me from Morrigan, I felt like maybe I could be safe with him. He seemed to care so deeply, and to be so full of wrath on my behalf. I didn’t mind his anger at all in that moment.
But then he turned away, dismissive of me, almost irritated at me—not quite angry, or at least not yet, but definitely annoyed with me in some way. Or maybe not annoyed, but unsettled.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
Ford nods curtly at Morrigan, a satisfied look on his face. He gets pleasure out of scaring people with his wrath, I realize. It’s… disconcerting. Although at least Morrigan has been put in her place. Maybe this will make her think twice before trying to steal someone’s blood next time. I don’t like the idea of scaring anyone, or hurting people who aren’t the corrupted, but she did pretty much try to kill me.
Beckett and Remington are still sandwiching me, and I fall into step between them as we head out, glancing back at Morrigan. Ford has moved away from her, hefting the demon body over his shoulder as he joins Phoenix to bring up the rear of our little group.
For a split second, my gaze locks with the old witch’s.
She doesn’t look scared anymore. Instead, she gets a sly look in her eyes, a smirk crawling across her face.
No, it’s not sly. It’s… it’s hungry.
That terrifies me. It strikes a kind of fear inside of me that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before. I’m scared of the corrupted, of course. But the corrupted attack me, not from any kind of personal hatred but just because it’s how they are. We’re at war. Demons dislike angels, but it’s not about me. It’s not about Trinity.
This feels like it is. Like Morrigan is hungry for me. For Trinity the angel.
It sends a shiver down my spine.
I turn away and press myself instinctively against Remington and Beckett, then scold myself for doing that. I take a couple steps back instead, only to run into Ford and Phoenix, who are guarding me from the rear. No matter which way I turn, I’m surrounded by the men.
“Keep yourself steady,” Ford grumbles. Beckett glances back at me like he’s also a bit displeased, but doesn’t say anything.
All four men stay in a tight group around me though, guarding me as we move out and leave Morrigan behind. I hope I never have to see her again. And I hope she doesn’t do anything… too awful with my blood.
If only I could know for sure.
We head back to Beckett’s place with the body and the charm so that we can perform
the ritual and undo the portal.
Good. I’m excited for this to finally end.
My nerves feel like they’re strung out and at the very end of how far they can possibly stretch. But at the same time, I’m a bit scared to take the next steps. What’ll this mean once we finish? What will happen to the men? Will I be able to find a way to stay in their lives and work more on redeeming them? Or will they dismiss me and want nothing to do with me?
Probably the latter. I don’t see any reason for them to keep me around.
When the elevator dings on the top floor, Beckett holds the door for me to step out ahead of him. “Do you need a shower or something?” he asks, his voice unusually quiet. “That woman’s place stunk.”
“I’ll make you something,” Remington announces, putting his hands on my shoulders to move around me and into the kitchen. “Beck, I’m taking over your kitchen.”
“Good to know that I have a choice in the matter,” Beckett replies, but he sounds tiredly amused rather than annoyed or angry. He guides me to sit down at one of the high-top chairs in the kitchen at the island. Phoenix settles in the chair next to me, while Ford storms on past, clearly still annoyed.
“I’m going to go check on our friend,” he calls over his shoulder, the last two words coming out with a sarcastic bite. He heads down the hallway toward the room where we’re keeping the bookie, and I shudder to think that we still have to deal with another corrupted. I’ve been having far too many run-ins with them lately for my liking.
Every time we have to deal with one of the corrupted, or someone like Morrigan, I can feel my skin crawling. I’ve never felt like this before. I wonder if it’s due to the fact that I’m an angel—if something about my basic makeup revolts against the evil energy that emanates from beings like demons and the death witch.
I don’t feel that way when I’m with the men though. They might be the personification of sin, but… they don’t feel like that. Not exactly. They don’t give me the same creeping, crawling sensation over my skin and up my spine.
Maybe, just maybe, when this is finished I can find a way to convince them to keep me around.
I have to, don’t I?
I still have to redeem them, and I don’t think that just closing the portal is going to be enough. Not with all that they’ve been up to for hundreds of years. And I still need to meet the other three brothers and somehow convince them to start doing good deeds as well.
“What the fuck?”
The loud bellow comes from down the hall, and a second later, a door slams.
Ford storms back into the kitchen, fury coming off him in waves, and I jump with fear as he strides right over to me and grabs me by the front of my dress. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Hey! What the hell, man?” Phoenix says, half-rising from his seat.
“He’s gone!” Ford growls the words right in my face, shaking me. “What did you do with him? Why did you let him escape?”
“Who?” I blurt out, terrified.
All of Ford’s anger, all of what makes him Wrath, is concentrated on me, and I want to burst into tears. I know it’s not very warrior-like of me, and angels are supposed to be warriors; we’re supposed to be fighting a war for Upstairs, for our home and the side of good—but I can’t help how I feel.
And right now I feel very, very afraid.
“Our. Fucking. Lead.” The blond man’s usually clear blue eyes seem to blaze with fire. “You let him escape! And now he’s probably off warning whoever else is behind this thing that we’re coming after them! Our advantage is fucking gone! The element of surprise is gone. What the fuck did you do?”
Oh. Crap.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Phoenix
Trinity’s eyes go wide with shock as Ford crowds her with his body, dipping his head so his face is just inches from hers.
She looks shocked.
And terrified.
Dammit.
I usually make it a point not to get involved in any of my brothers’ fights or arguments. There’s no reason to, usually. They always work it out in the end, after they get whatever the hell it is out of their system.
But this is total bullshit. Trinity didn’t let Henrik go. She was with us the whole damn time, and even if there was a moment when she could’ve slipped away and freed him, that makes no damn sense.
Ford is thinking with his rage again, which is to say, he’s not thinking at all.
And now I’ve gotta do something I really fucking hate to do.
Step in.
I open my mouth to draw a breath, but before I can say anything, Trinity snaps. Seriously, I swear I can almost hear the sound of a rubber band twanging as her back goes ramrod straight.
“Are you kidding me?” she shrieks, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Remington’s eyebrows shoot straight up. All three of us are watching her and Ford, riveted to the sight before us. “I didn’t let him go! Why on earth would I do that when I’m the one who wanted to close the stupid portal in the first place! So why would I do anything to sabotage that? Huh?”
The angel is at least a foot shorter than Ford is, and about half his body weight. She’s barefoot, and still dressed in the slinky gown she wore to the casino, although it’s now stained with blood and dirt and ripped in a few somewhat revealing places.
Her chest is heaving, and her wings have popped out in her righteous anger.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
“I don’t accuse you of sabotage every time something doesn’t go right,” she continues, taking a step toward Ford, her chin jutting out defiantly. “And just because I didn’t want to kill that demon doesn’t mean I’m going to sneak around behind your back and let him go. I understood why you kept him tied up before—that’s why I didn’t say anything then! And yes, I may be a little innocent and naive sometimes, but if the alternative is to be a raging asshole like you, I’ll stick to my naivety, thanks very much!”
She punctuates the final word by poking him in the chest.
Hard.
Ford seems to puff up, his muscles all bunching and tightening as his hands curl into fists. His nostrils flare, the muscles along the side of his face jumping wildly as he grits his teeth.
Trinity falls back a little, losing a bit of her steam in the face of my brother’s anger, but I know Ford isn’t reacting this way just because he’s mad.
It’s because he’s turned the hell on.
To be honest, I kind of am too.
Fuck, that was amazing to watch.
Not a lot of people have ever stood up to Ford, and I’m talking about the entirety of our existence here. Brave men and hardened warriors have turned into quivering little babies when confronted with the force of Wrath’s undiluted rage.
But not Trin.
Well, okay, fine. She is quivering a little bit. But I honestly can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger, and either way, she’s not backing down. Tension builds in the air between the two of them, crackling and electric. Rage is pouring out of Ford, infusing the whole room, but arousal is too. He looks like he’s on the verge of grabbing Trinity and… well, I’m not quite sure what. I have a feeling what he’d like to do is bend her over the counter and fuck her until neither one of them can move.
The thought of watching them hate fuck each other makes my cock twitch, growing semi-hard. I’m tempted to just stand by and let this play out, to see what happens when all that tension between them finally snaps.
But if Henrik has really escaped, that means our window of time to get this portal closed is shrinking. And if we lose that chance, this whole thing is gonna become a much bigger pain in the ass than I have the energy to deal with.
“Much as I hate to break up what would probably be the brawl of the century,” I drawl, “don’t you think it’s more important for us to get moving? We need to use that charm and that demon corpse to close the portal before whoever’s behind this whole thing comes up with a plan to stop us. Right?”
Trinity
and Ford both snap their heads up to stare at me. They might’ve forgotten anyone else was even in the room.
The angel is still breathing hard, a wildness in her eyes that makes the dark brown of her irises flash with bronze highlights. She glances back at Ford, seems to realize they’re standing less than an inch away from each other, and hastily slips away from him, nodding as she does.
“Yes. That’s my point exactly. I don’t know how the bookie got away, but the most important thing right now is for us to get the portal closed. After that, we can deal with finding the demon”—she shoots Ford a narrow-eyed look—“who escaped on his own.”
Oh, shit.
I hide a smile behind my hand, pretending to scratch my jaw. Damn, this woman really is feisty.
Ford’s lips press into a thin line, and I know he’s gearing up to go another round with Trin even though I’m pretty sure he’s realized by now that he’s wrong about her letting the demon out of the holding room.
“Nix is right,” Beckett interjects before Ford can speak. He shakes his head, running a hand over his perfectly styled dark hair. “And if Sloth is the one telling us we’d better hurry, then that means we’re truly out of time.”
“Hey, I resent that. Or I would if it didn’t sound like too much work.”
He shoots me a look that’s part amusement and part annoyance, then turns back to the others. “Everyone change into tactical gear. Trin, there’s fight wear in your closet, and leather boots. We can’t afford to lose a good fighter because of a lack of shoes, even if we’ve seen that shoes can in fact be weaponized if you’re lazy enough to use them that way.”
“Again, I resent that,” I drawl. “You call it lazy, others would call it a brilliant tactical move.”
Ford barks a laugh, some of the tension draining from him. “Yeah, like that time Nix got pissed at Sawyer and threw everything within reach at him without ever moving his ass off the fuckin’ couch.”
“Another brilliant tactical move.” I grin. “Why do you think I have so many remotes?”
