“I … I don’t know,” she whispered. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad, but tell me where you are.”
“I’m in Pride with Clayton and Qina. I let them out because they’d been trapped in that prison for weeks now and I felt bad. And on our way back …” She sniffled again as a couple of people chatted in the background.
“Fucking Qina,” I growled, stepping on the gas and driving toward The Lounge, where I could quickly and easily set up a portal to Pride. “If she touched you, I will suck her soul from her body and?—”
“She didn’t touch me,” Iza said. “An angel fell from the sky above … and attacked us.”
I skidded to a stop in the alleyway behind The Lounge and sprinted out of the car to the club. After shoving open the door, I immediately opened a portal and stepped through it, rushing toward Pride as quickly as I could.
The line crackled and suddenly went silent.
Curse the bad cell service in these fucking portals!
When I stepped out into Pride, a chilling wind whipped around me. I bit my tongue at how fucking cold it was here and pushed past the guards in the portal room, heading down the stone path and following fresh footprints.
“Iza!” I called out, the wind carrying my voice.
I continued to run until I spotted a group of demons gathered in a field, Lucifer and Iza among them. When Iza saw me, she hurried my way and buried her face into the center of my chest, her chin quivering.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I-I don’t like killing.”
Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I pulled her toward me and assessed the situation. Body parts lay all over the place, and the torso of the fallen angel seemed to be twisted in many directions.
Clayton and Qina were being checked out by some medics, but looked badly bruised.
Iza placed her chin on the center of my chest and stared up at me through teary eyes. “I don’t like killing, but she came down here and tossed Clayton and Qina around like they were nothing. And I know you don’t like them, but it was unjustified. If this is how the rest of the war will be, then … I want to be part of it.”
I swallowed and dropped one of my hands to her belly bump. “Not until you give birth.”
“Not until I give birth,” she repeated. “But if I have the power to help you and our family, then I will. I’m done being a pushover. I’m strong, and I want to start being strong. I want our daughter to know that her parents are powerful and protective of not only her, but of our kind too.” Something sparkled in her eyes. “I want to win this war.”
I snatched up her hand and squeezed. “Then, we will win.”