Page 66 of Unholy Fate

I frowned, glancing at Aziz. “Homeowners?”

Aziz shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t worry, they desperately need a vacation.”

From the end of the hallway where Ian had vanished, a startled man and woman in rumpled nightclothes emerged, their faces pale with fright.

“What is going on here? Who are you people? How did you get in?” the man bellowed.

“This is going to be fun,” Aziz said, sinking into the plush chaise lounge, the salty scent of freshly popped popcorn filling the air as a bowl appeared in his hands.

“We should leave,” I begged Aziz, already picturing the interrogation room and the officer’s skeptical expression as I tried to explain my inexplicable appearance in these strangers’ home.

A piece of popcorn sailed through the air, hitting me squarely in the chest. “Don’t be such a party pooper, have a little...faith.”

Ian emerged behind the couple, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. With a commanding tone, he said, “Go on a vacation. Now. Don’t pack anything. You can buy what you need when you get there. Also, fuck each other like dogs in heat any time you’re in private.” He pressed the woman’s purse into her hand, then guided the couple toward the door.

I stared as Ian turned the key in the lock, panic making me shrill. “You had no right Ian, this is their home. You can’t force peopleto leave their own home just because you don’t like the hotel I chose.”

Levi interrupted. “Trust us, they needed a break. He was about to cheat, and she was planning her next nose job. Nothing more evil than a plastic surgeon.”

My gaze swept across the penthouse, the stunning city view battling with the gnawing unease in my gut. The sheer opulence of the place, with its rich fabrics and gleaming surfaces, was far beyond anything I’d ever encountered.

The men were quite at home and utterly relaxed. Levi poured himself a drink, the amber whiskey filling the glass, Aziz sprawled on the chaise, licking a smear of butter suggestively from his finger, and Ian leaned against the wall, silently observing me with a calculating stare.

“This is your new home,” Levi said, the glint of the crystal tumbler catching the light as he gestured, “for now.”

I inhaled slowly, understanding the journey had just begun.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

EVELYN

I reclinedon the massive plush bed in the penthouse’s master bedroom, the silk sheets cool against my skin. The opulence of the room was undeniable, gold accents on the furniture, a crystal chandelier, and a view of the city lights twinkling below. I was reluctantly impressed by the space.

“Swanky,” I trailed my fingers along the embroidered duvet. At least they had taste. But the grandeur did little to lift the heaviness in my chest. My decision to leave the convent pressed down on me, a reminder of the life I had walked away from.

I spiraled internally as I lay there, staring at the ceiling. With any change comes loss, I reasoned, but that didn’t make the grief any easier to bear. I had left behind my faith, my vows, and the only family I had known since adulthood. A pang of doubt clawed at me. What if I had made a terrible mistake?

At the same time, something deep inside me said this was the right thing to do, familiar, even. It was as if a part of me had always known I belonged here, with them.

I began piecing together my interactions with the demons. Aziz’s cocky charm, Levi’s protectiveness, Ian’s quieter, intense focus, all of them seemed tethered to me in ways I didn’t fully understand.

The thought gave me a sense of control, relaxing tight muscles in my neck and shoulders. They were demons, but they weren’t immune to emotion. The realization sparked an idea. If they were growing attached to me, perhaps I could use that to my advantage. Manipulating demons was dangerous, but I was willing to try.

Determined to access the surfacing memories, I decided to meditate again and see if I remembered anything more. Sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet, I rested my hands on my knees and closed my eyes. I tried to focus on the distant hum of the city.

But my thoughts refused to quiet, circling back to the glimpses of memory I’d already seen. They taunted me—visions of myself standing tall in the Garden, a fierce strength radiating from me. I was a woman unbroken.

I tried harder to grasp the fleeting images, to bring them into focus. Suddenly, a searing pain spiked through my skull. I gasped, clutching my head as the ache spread, sharp and unrelenting. It was like my psyche was rebelling against me.

Stumbling to my feet, I made my way to the living room where the demons lounged. Ian was draped across an armchair, all long limbs and dark allure.

“Ian,” I managed weakly, bracing myself against the doorframe. God, even forming words hurt. “Please tell me you have some ibuprofen or Excedrin around here. My head is killing me.”

Surprise flickered across Ian’s angular face, but he rose from the loveseat in one fluid motion, his golden eyes narrowing. I wasn’t sure if that was concern or suspicion in his gaze. With him, it was often hard to tell.

“I’ll check the bathroom,” he said, brushing past me. The scent of leather and spice teased my nostrils, and I swallowed thickly. Even half-blinded by pain, his presence still made my pulse stutter. I needed to get a grip.

As I sank into the armchair Ian had vacated, I silently prayed that he’d find some kind of magical demon painkiller. Because if my skull kept feeling like it was about to explode, I’d be useless to uncover anything. And I refused to let a little headache stop me from finding the truth about my past.

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