Page 72 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

I wasn’t going to allow Balthazar or Petar to hurt Angelo again. The memory of his broken body after their last encounter flashed through my mind, fueling my determination.

“Well, angel girl, are we doing this or what?” Dimitri drawled, masking his fear with bravado. “If you need a moment to practice with your new feathery accessories, I could always try the door again. Third concussion’s the charm.”

“Hang on,” I commanded, gripping his leather jacket. His eyebrow shot up in amusement.

“Flying Air Serenity? I hope there’s in-flight drinks,” he quipped, but his fingers dug into my arm with revealing intensity.

I beat my wings powerfully, launching us into the air just as another hellhound charged our position.

“Remind me not to piss off your uncle,” Dimitri muttered as we ascended.

“My uncle?”

“The archangel that’s smoldering anything that looks crossed eyed at him.”

Michael’s sword flashed through the air below us, striking the beast mid-leap. The hellhound exploded into ash and embers, its howl cut brutally short.

I didn’t think Raphael being my father meant that Michael was my uncle, but I couldn’t focus on that. All I cared about was saving Angelo.

“Serenity,” Enzo raced across the battlefield toward where we’d been standing.

But I was done with waiting for everyone to save me. Heat surged through my veins, a newfound determination hardening my resolve.

I burst through the broken window overhead, glass shards raining down as I swooped into the cathedral. My breath caught in my throat at the scene below.

Balthazar and a blond-haired man were engaged in a battle of swords, the clash of celestial metal ringing through the air like terrible music. In the dim light of the cathedral, I could see him clearly for the first time.

It had to be Raphael. The father I’d spent my entire life searching for, dreaming of, fighting for. His hair was the exact shade of gold as mine, his eyes the same piercing blue, his wings a mirror image of what I’d glimpsed of my own. After countless false leads and shattered hopes, he stood before me at last—powerful, untouchable, and undeniably real. He was the missing piece of my existence, no longer a ghost but real—flesh and blood and celestial grace standing before me.

Tears burned in my eyes as twenty-three years of wondering, of emptiness, crashed over me at once. Something deep in my blood sang in recognition, a piece of my soul clicking into place that I hadn’t even known was missing.

Angelo had his sword drawn, his face splattered with blood, protecting Gianna and Rocco who were chained against a wall, their wrists raw and bleeding.

“Serenity, get the hell out of here,” Angelo yelled, his eyes wide with fear—not for himself, but for me.

Balthazar looked up, his crimson eyes locking onto mine with predatory focus. His black wings flicked out with a sound like leather snapping, obsidian feathers gleaming under the cathedral lights. He shot straight toward me, the air whistling around his massive form. I dropped Dimitri who changed into a bat in mid-air, a blur of shadow that landed next to Angelo.

“You’re mine,” Balthazar snarled, his hands stretched out to grab me, the stench of sulfur and blood rolling off him in waves.

“I’m done being yours,” I pushed my palms out. Power burned through my arms like liquid fire. The same burst of white light erupted from my hands, hitting him square in the chest. He yelled in fury, the sound shaking the very foundations of the building.

My father’s eyes met mine for a heartbeat—the same eyes I saw in the mirror—filled with a fierce pride that made my heart stutter. He held out his palm too, with another light that smashed into Balthazar. The combined force sent the demon lord hurtling backward, his wings crumpling as he burst through the double oak doors with a thunderous crash, landing at Michael’s feet in a heap of broken feathers and rage.

Chapter

Forty-One

Angelo

“Goddammit, Serenity,”I snarled, relief doing nothing to cool my anger. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. I protected her—not the other way around. And now she’d painted an even bigger target on herself.

I was across the room in a blur of vampire speed, my hands gripping her shoulders. Her wings were still out, glowing with celestial light that would have blinded lesser creatures. “What the hell were you thinking?” I hissed, scanning her for injuries. “You were supposed to stay hidden. You were supposed to be protected.”

The scent of her blood—half human, half angelic—filled my senses. Nephilim blood. Power that both heaven and hell would kill for. She was alive, unharmed, but for how long? Balthazar wouldn’t forget this humiliation. The rules of our world were simple: show weakness, and you die. Show strength without the power to back it, and they hunt you to extinction.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just escalated?” My voice dropped lower, meant for her ears only. “This isn’t like yourother confrontations with him. You’ve forced Balthazar into a corner, publicly. An ancient demon with that much wounded pride won’t just let this go. He’ll come at you differently this time—more calculated, more personal.”

“And my daughter will handle him just fine.”

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