Page 63 of Eclipse Born

When I finally spoke, my voice was quiet but steady. “I didn't feel anything, Sean.”

Sean's grip tightened on the wheel. “...What?” The question emerged strangled, as if he already understood but needed to hear it explicitly.

Thunder rolled overhead, distant but approaching. The storm was moving closer, mirroring the one brewing between us.

I turned to him, expression unreadable. “I didn't hesitate. I didn't second-guess. I didn't feel remorse. I just killed them.And I didn't care.” The clinical assessment of my own actions emerged without emotional inflection, which only made the words more chilling.

Sean flinched as if I had struck him. The raw honesty was both exactly what he'd asked for and everything he'd feared hearing.

16

HOLLOWED OUT

SEAN

Two days. Two long, silent days. No word from Hawk. No sign of Cassiel. And Cade—Cade was just living his life like nothing had happened. The clock on my warehouse wall ticked relentlessly forward, each second bringing us closer to whatever catastrophe awaited when the final seal broke.

Outside, rain fell in sheets, droplets racing down the grimy windows like tears. My warehouse smelled of gun oil, old books, and the remnants of last night's whiskey. I'd taken to pacing, ten steps one way, turn, ten steps back, a caged animal sensing the approaching storm. My restless energy had nowhere to go, no outlet beyond this mindless movement.

Twice, I'd called Sterling for updates. Twice, I'd been told to sit tight, to wait for Hawk's signal. Patience had never been my strong suit, especially not with every instinct screaming that time was running out. I'd tried cleaning my weapons, researching Nephilim lore, even attempting meditation as Cassiel had once suggested. Nothing helped. The waiting was unbearable.

But what truly set my teeth on edge was Cade's unnatural calm.

I watched him from across my warehouse living space, irritation buzzing beneath my skin like hornets trapped in my veins. Cade was eating a damn sandwich, scrolling through his phone like we weren't standing at the edge of a supernatural catastrophe. Mayo dripped onto the paper wrapper, and Cade absently wiped it away, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading.

This casual disregard for the gravity of our situation was so fundamentally un-Cade that it made my stomach twist. Before hell, before the mark, Cade would have been as restless as me—researching obsessively, calling contacts, developing backup plans for our backup plans. He'd always been the strategic one, the planner, the one who needed to understand every angle.

This new Cade, this hollow-eyed stranger wearing my partner's face,seemed content to wait passively for the world to end.

“You good?” Cade asked, not looking up from his phone, thumb scrolling through what appeared to be a news site.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. The physical pain was grounding, something real to focus on besides the hollow ache in my chest. I'd gotten Cade back, but not really. Not all of him.

“Are you?” I finally responded, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Cade's eyes flicked up then, finally meeting my gaze directly. For a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw something flicker behind those familiar eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but that unnerving flatness.

“Never better,” Cade replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in what should have been a reassuring smile but looked morelike an anatomical demonstration. His tone was light, almost cheerful, and completely at odds with the emptiness in his eyes.

Later that night, with Cade nowhere to be found, I stood in the alley behind my warehouse, cold wind biting through my jacket. The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind puddles that reflected the glow of the single security light I'd installed months ago.

Cade had left an hour ago, muttering something about fresh air. I hadn't tried to stop him. The relief of his absence was immediate and shameful—how could I feel better when Cade wasn't around, when I'd spent six months doing everything in my power to bring him back?

The guilt of that relief had driven me outside too, into the biting cold of the October night. The alley was empty—just my Impala parked at the end, gleaming wet under the security light. No witnesses to what I was about to attempt.

I had no idea if this would work. Cassiel hadn't exactly left us with a heavenly pager number. But I was out of options and rapidly running out of hope. If anyone could tell me what was wrong with Cade, what might fix him, it would be the angel who had been with us from the start.

I took a breath and exhaled sharply, steeling myself. Then, with as much authority as I could muster, I growled, “Cassiel! Get your feathery arse down here!”

The words echoed slightly in the empty alley, bouncing off the brick walls before fading into nothing. I waited, feeling increasingly foolish as the seconds ticked by with no response. Just another desperate act in a long string of futile attempts to fix what might be permanently broken.

I was about to turn back toward the warehouse, shoulders heavy with disappointment, when I felt it—a subtle shift in the air pressure, a prickling sensation at the nape of my neck.My hunter's instincts screamed a warning seconds before the change became physically manifest.

Silence. Then, a rush of wind. A shift in the air, like the world took a breath and held it. The hairs on my arms stood on end beneath my jacket, my skin tingling with static electricity. The temperature dropped several degrees in an instant, my next breath crystallizing in the suddenly frigid air.

The puddles in the alley rippled, though there was no wind to disturb them. The security light flickered, power fluctuating with the electromagnetic disturbance that seemed to precede angelic manifestation. For a moment, I thought I saw the shadow of enormous wings cast against the warehouse wall, stretching at impossible angles before disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.

Cassiel appeared, standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. One moment the space was empty; the next, it was occupied by six feet of celestial being in a rumpled trench coat.

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