Page 105 of Wrath

Technically, Z wasn’t related to me, but I’d come to think of her as the annoying little sister I never wanted. I didn’t know when it had happened or how, but I knew I would protect her with my life.

Hence why I was here, fighting on her behalf, participating in dreaded politics, and fighting off blasted diarrhea.

“No.” Atta shook her head adamantly then paused. Frowned. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’s here to kill her?” But that didn’t seem right. I couldn’t put my finger on what, exactly, Gabriel’s—or Peter’s, as he referred to himself as—endgame was.

“He’s definitely interested in her, that’s for sure.” Atta frowned. “The question is why?”

“Because he’s her father?” I suggested.

“Maybe…” Atta began to nibble on her lower lip, her gaze distant—no doubt thinking through every past encounter with the strange, eccentric angel walking our halls.

Before I could question her further, Mary-Lynette tugged on the hem of my shirt with a sheepish expression.

“Yes, firecracker?”

“Ummm…” She released the fabric and wrung her hands together. “I may have started another fire.”

I placed a hand to my heart and sniffled. “I’m so proud of you.”

“And the fire’s spreading rapidly,” she continued. “I’m afraid it’s going to burn down the entire building.”

“This is the best day of my life,” I whispered in a choked voice.

Was this what it meant for your little girl to grow up?

“Axel!” Atta’s voice was rife with alarm. “Put out the damn flames!”

With a sigh, I waved my hands and smothered the flames yet again. Only smoke remained, filtering through the open windows.

I damn near burst with pride when I spotted the charred target lying on the ground.

“Yes! You did it!” I offered my hand to Mary-Lynette to high-five, which she did hesitantly, a shy smile on her face.

I was totally nailing the whole “father” thing.

Family who started fires together, stayed together.

Best. Father. Ever.

THIRTY-FOUR

Z

Iwoke to the sound of muffled curses and flesh hitting flesh. I recognized one of the voices as Ryland’s.

This could mean one of two things. Either he was cheating on me—which he would never do in a million years—or…

I jumped out of bed and hurried into my clothes. Or at least, I thought they were my clothes, but the shirt smelled distinctly of Bash and the pants were way too big.

Without even bothering to brush my teeth or hair, I hurried out of the tent, squinting as the midday sun bared down on me.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Ryland roared.

I quickened my pace.

And there, directly behind my tent, in a field reserved for combat training, I found him…

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