Page 87 of Legacy of Chaos

“To her,” Stryke broke in, gesturing to Cyan. “I told you I don’t give a shit about your Heavenly civil war. I want to know what the risks are toher.”

Aw. She had unexpected warm-fuzzies. Shanea used to say she felt warm-fuzzies whenever Draven said or did something that showed how much he loved her. Which was pretty much daily. They’d been so in love.

She automatically glanced at Stryke, expecting the stab of anger that manifested every time she thought about Shan. This time, it didn’t happen. There was only the ever-present grief that, somehow, felt a gram lighter.

Gabriel considered Stryke’s question. “As long as I’m safe,” he finally said, “she’s probably safe.”

Cyan didnotlike the sound of that. “Probably?”

Gabriel sat up straighter in his chair. “It’s not like I have a lot of practice battling demons in the water. Aquatic demon incursions are extremely rare. I haven’t been in a sea or ocean in thousands of years. You see one whale, you’ve seen them all, you know?”

“We need to prepare for worst-case scenarios.” Scotty rocked idly in her chair, her arms crossed over her breasts. “Give us some idea of what kinds of things could go wrong.”

“Youareyour father’s daughter, aren’t you?” Gabriel mused.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Smiling, Gabriel inclined his head. “As it was intended. You’ve come a long way since the last time I saw you training in the arena, trying to keep up with the older boys.” He lost the smile, his expression becoming serious as he addressed everyone. “Worst-case scenarios? We could get swallowed whole by a leviathan, in which case I could fight my way out, but Cyan would likely not survive. Or my bubble could burst, in whichcase Cyan could be crushed or drowned before I made it back to the surface.”

“She’s not going,” Stryke announced. “You’re angels. You can do this by yourselves.”

“Perhaps,” Gabriel said slowly. “I came here intending just that. But having Cyan’s help increases the odds of success. The price of failure is too much to risk.”

Cyan’s chair creaked as she turned to him. “I have to do it, Stryke. You know I do. We’re out of time and down to a Hail Mary.”

She was right, and he knew it. He didn’t argue. He couldn’t have, not with the way he’d locked his jaw so fiercely the muscles in his face and neck twitched.

“I’m going with you,” Hutriel said. “In my own bubble, of course.”

Gabriel nodded at her. “Are you ready?”

“Wait.” Stryke held up a hand. “I need to talk to Cyan for a minute.” He cocked his head toward the door. “In private.”

Once alone in the hallway, she turned to him. “What is it?”

He glanced back at the door, probably to make sure no one was listening. “I don’t think you should do this. I don’t trust them.”

She doubted he trusted anyone. “I thought you knew Gabriel.”

“I know a lot of angels. That’s why I don’t trust them. They will sacrifice anyone and anything in the name of a cause,” he said, darkness settling into his tone. “I’ve only met Gabriel a couple of times, both brief, but I wouldn’t trust him even if we were best buddies. He was involved with Azagoth at the time of Sheoul-gra’s destruction, and I don’t know how or why.”

Whoa. Many people, both demon and human, had died as a result of Azagoth’s actions, but even more consequential was itsimpact on the very course of history. Humans had become aware of the existence of underworlders because of it.

“Why would an angel want Sheoul-gra destroyed?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his brow furrowed in a scowl. He hated not knowing something. He’d once said in an interview that unanswered questions often became obsessions for him, and he could go down research rabbit holes for weeks at a time.

Before he could obsess, she laid her hand lightly on his arm. “I know you’re worried. But unless you have another plan, we have to use Gabriel’s. We don’t have a choice, Stryke. You know it. We both know it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, following it up with a curse. “But promise me you won’t turn your back on them. Angels don’t work with demons unless they have an agenda, and they make sport of killing us. Don’t trust any of them.”

His gaze captured hers, the intensity in his eyes making her breath catch. She used to think his eyes were cold, bottomless, and empty. But now she saw nothing but naked emotion under a veneer of indifference. He came across as not caring about anything, but she knew the truth now.

He cared abouteverything. To distraction. To the point where he’d erected a barrier to protect himself.

Stryke’s problem wasn’t that he didn’t have enough feelings.

It was that he had too many.

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