Page 43 of Wicked Angel
“What does that mean?” Levi demanded, still on edge, still protective.
“It means,” Maeve said, turning to address the watching angels, “that her intentions are pure. Her heart is true. She fights not for power or revenge, but for what is right.”
Murmurs ran through the gathered angels, some skeptical, others thoughtful.
“Can she win?” one called out. “Against Rhodes and his followers?”
Maeve hesitated, her ancient face troubled. “The future is never certain,” she admitted. “I cannot guarantee victory. But I can tell you this: in all the paths I've seen, in all the futures that might be, she represents our best hope. Perhaps our only chance for a better future—for angels, for Earth, for all realms.”
Kadriel studied me, her eyes measuring and assessing. “You're asking a lot,” she said finally. “For us to return to Elysium, to face the very powers that exiled us.”
“I know,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “But Rhodes has to be stopped. And I can't do it alone.”
“No,” she agreed. “You can't.” She was silent for a long moment, the weight of decision heavy in the air between us. Then she straightened, her injured arm shifting in its sling as she stood taller. “Very well, Ariella. The Lost Legion will follow you into battle.”
Relief washed through me, so powerful it nearly brought me to my knees again. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Kadriel's expression remained grave. “Don't thank me yet. This won’t be an easy battle.”
17
The journeyback to Houston was a blur. Kadriel had insisted on sending one of her angels to escort us safely through the forest, but I barely registered the trek. My mind was still trapped in the Reflecting Pool, replaying the horrors I'd lived through over and over again. The weight of it pressed down on me, making each step heavier than the last.
Levi tried to speak to me several times during the trip, his voice gentle with concern, but I couldn't find the words to respond. What could I say? That I was fine, when the memory of Molraz ripping my wing from my body felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday? That I was okay, when I could still hear Rachel's final scream echoing in my ears?
At some point, Levi had called Aspen, who had opened a portal for us to go back to Houston, and even though we crossed the portal, I didn’t remember seeing Aspen.
By the time we reached Levi's apartment, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones. I moved mechanically through the motions of showering, of changing into clean clothes, of pretending to be whole when I felt shattered inside.
“Sweetheart,” Levi said, hovering in the doorway of the bedroom as I sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at nothing. “Talk to me.”
I looked up at him, wishing I could explain the storm raging inside me. “I'm just tired,” I managed, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
He didn't believe me—I could see it in his eyes—but he didn't push. Instead, he crossed the room and sat beside me, taking my hand in his. “Then rest. I'll be right here.”
I nodded, allowing him to guide me under the covers. The weight of his arm across my waist felt like an anchor, keeping me from drifting too far into the darkness that lurked at the edges of my mind. I closed my eyes, surrendering to exhaustion, and slipped into unconsciousness.
But sleep offered no escape.
In my dreams, I was back at the clifftop, Molraz's claws digging into my wings. But this time, instead of falling into the ocean, I was trapped in an endless loop of pain, unable to escape, unable to die, forced to feel my wings being ripped away again and again. Rachel and Jeremiah appeared, bloody and broken, asking why I had abandoned them. And behind them all stood Rhodes, holding the dagger, his smile cold and triumphant.
I woke with a gasp, my body drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room was dark, quiet except for the soft sound of Levi's breathing beside me. I tried to steady myself, to push back the panic clawing at my throat, but the nightmare clung to me like a shroud.
“It's not real,” I whispered to myself, pressing my palms against my eyes. “It's over. It's in the past.”
But it didn't feel over. It felt like the wound had been reopened, raw and bleeding, every detail sharpened by the magic of the Reflecting Pool. I wondered if I would ever sleep peacefully again, or if these memories would haunt me forever.
A strangled sob escaped me before I could stop it.
Levi stirred, instantly alert. “Ariella?” His voice was rough with sleep, but his eyes were clear as they found mine in the darkness. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” I tried to say, but another sob betrayed me. “I just—I can't?—”
He didn't need me to finish. In one fluid movement, he pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a shield against the world. “It's okay,” he murmured into my hair. “I've got you. You're safe.”
I clung to him, my body trembling. “It felt so real,” I whispered. “Like it was happening all over again.”
“I know, sweetheart.” His hand moved in soothing circles on my back. “But it's over. You survived. You're here, with me.”
