Page 41 of Angel Lost

“Tell them to stand down,” he hisses. I press my lips together. “Tell them to stand down or they die. All of them.”

Hopelessness washes over me as another wave of angels descends from the sky.

I give a piercing wolf whistle. “Stop. Guys, stop.”

Chano pauses, white feathers stuck to the side of his face, blood trickling down his chin. In his hands, an angel, neck torn open. The next battalion lands with ground-trembling impact, and I shake my head slowly.

We can’t win this.

The others slowly step back, arms held high.

The Angel King’s hands rest lightly on my shoulders as I take in the devastation. So much blood…the blood of angels.

What have we done? They’re bloodthirsty barbarians, my allegiance. Monsters. Why am I fighting for them? Killing peaceful angels. Slaughtering the king’s men. Look at them—nasty, savage murderers.

The thoughts slither through me, oily and wrong. I blink. Their faces come into focus. The faces of people I trust. They’re my fucking barbarians. Here to protect me. A snarl rips from my throat as I wrench sideways,breaking free of the Angel King’s grip.He was in my head, dammit. Influencing me.I take another half step away.

“Line them up,” the king calls as he casually flicks a handkerchief out of his pocket and holds it to my face. Huh. Didn’t realize my nose was bleeding. I push his hands away.

“As you will. It is easier with blood,” the king says, fingering the stained hanky.

Small black dots pepper my vision. Suddenly the king’s here again. Inside my head somehow. Not just a voice this time but a slimy presence, worming into my thoughts, whirling like a dervish through my memories.

I take a breath. I can do this. Silas taught me.

I picture the king in there, opening doors to memories. As one cracks open, panic flares. If he sees too much…The rebellion, their plans—it would all be over. But if I push too hard, if I pull too much aether, I’ll expose myself instead.

Risk them. Or risk me.

I grit my teeth and tread the knife’s edge. A sliver of power seeps out—just enough. As the door creaks wider, I slam it shut, quickly stacking barricades, building walls, forging an entire fortress in my mind.

It works.Please don’t let him work out how strong I am. Please.

Panting, the king drops his bloody hanky to the ground at my feet. “Don’t worry, Miss Bal. We can revisit this later. For now, choose.” He nods toward the lineup of my allegiance. “Choose who to save.”

I stare at him.

“They can’t all live. You chose them over your king. I won’t have that. So now you have to choose which one dies.” The king rubs his hands together expectantly.

What kind of sick fuckery is this?

My breath comes fast and sharp as I scan their faces, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Zephyr stands rigid, his usually soft, dreamy expression hardened into something unrecognizable. His clothes are torn, streaked with soot and blood, his beautiful hair matted to his forehead.Not Zephyr. Not kind, gentle, hippy Zephyr.

My Aeternum. Chano.

Four angels hold him down, his arms wrenched behind his back. He strains against them, muscles flexing, fury blazing in his eyes. No submission. No meekness. The thought of losing him—it’s unbearable.Not him.

Farrell.

Blood drips from a gash at his temple, but he stands tall, shoulders squared, defiant even now. My feelings for him are a mess, tangled, but he’s the one with a rebellion to lead. He might actually take this asshole down.

And then there’s Kai.

His face is calm—too calm. He holds my gaze, unreadable, his jaw tight. No bruises, no bindings, nothing to suggest he fought back. The king’s own nephew. If there’s anyone who might survive this, it’s him. Surely, the king won’t actually kill his own blood.

The king grabs my wrists, slipping the bands off, and I rub at the raw skin.

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