Page 63 of Wicked Angel
I looked at Levi. “Can you watch these two while we?—”
“Go,” he said, his eyes still glowing with demonic fire as he stared down at the captured archangels. “I'll make sure they don't go anywhere.”
I hesitated, not entirely comfortable leaving him alone with them, especially in his partially transformed state. But we had to stop Adona.
“I'll stay too,” Lacey offered, sensing my concern. “We'll be fine.”
With a nod of gratitude, I followed Abbie back through the ruined doors of the library. The corridors of the Celestial Tower bore the marks of fierce battle—scorch marks on the walls, shattered crystal, smears of dark blood on the marble floors. In the distance, I could hear the echoes of continued fighting, punctuated by the occasional earth-shaking roar from the transformed Adona.
“This way,” I said, leading Abbie up a winding staircase that would take us back to the council chamber where the nightmare had begun.
It would have been faster to fly upstairs, but I was concerned Abbie would get lost in the tower’s winding corridors. As we started on the first flight of stairs, a scream echoed—Lacey's voice, filled with warning and fear. Without hesitation, Abbie and I raced back the way we'd come, dread filling my chest with each step.
We burst into the library to find chaos. Levi was struggling with Haines, who had somehow managed to free one hand from his shackles and was fighting desperately to release the other. Lacey lay against a far wall, dazed but conscious, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead.
And Rhodes—Rhodes was free, his shackles shattered on the floor, his Celestial sword gleaming in his hand as he advanced on Levi's unprotected back.
“Levi, behind you!” I shouted, already running, knowing I wouldn't reach him in time.
Levi spun, but he was still grappling with Haines, unable to fully defend himself. Rhodes's sword arced downward in what would surely be a killing blow.
Time seemed to slow. I was too far away to physically intervene, my own sword still sheathed. In desperation, I reached for my magic, hurling a bolt of light toward Rhodes, but I knew it would arrive too late.
Then, at the last possible second, Rhodes changed his target. He pivoted, his sword redirecting toward me as I charged toward him. I saw his face twist into a grimace of hatred, saw the blade glinting as it swept toward me.
I tried to turn, to parry, but I knew I wouldn't be fast enough. The dagger in my hand seemed to pulse once, as if in warning, and then Rhodes's blade descended.
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There wasno time to think, only to react. My Celestial sword materialized in my hand, muscle memory guiding me as I pivoted and swung upward to meet Rhodes's descending blade. The clash of weapons sent vibrations down my arm, the impact jarring my shoulder as I struggled to deflect the killing blow.
Rhodes's face contorted with hatred, his superior strength forcing my blade back inch by inch. I could feel my feet sliding on the marble floor, my stance weakening as he pressed his advantage. His eyes burned with a manic light, all pretense of nobility and righteousness stripped away to reveal the raw ambition beneath.
“You should have joined me,” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “We could have reshaped Elysium together.”
“Into what?” I gasped, my arms trembling with the effort of holding him back. “A prison? A dictatorship?”
“Into a power that all realms would fear!” He shifted his weight, preparing for another strike. “Instead, you'll die a traitor's death, forgotten and reviled!”
He disengaged suddenly, stepping back only to launch a new attack from a different angle. I parried desperately, knowing I couldn't match his centuries of experience in swordplay. Each blow drove me further back, my defense weakening with every strike.
Across the room, I could see Levi still grappling with Haines, their struggle keeping him from coming to my aid. Lacey was pushing herself up from the wall, blood trickling down her face, but still too dazed to help. Abbie was frantically weaving a spell, but I could tell from her expression that it wouldn't be ready in time.
Rhodes pressed forward, his sword a blur of motion as he hammered at my defenses. I stumbled over a fallen bookshelf, my balance faltering for a crucial second. Rhodes saw the opening and lunged, his blade aimed for my heart.
In that moment, instinct took over. I twisted to the side, letting his momentum carry him past me, and thrust my sword upward in a desperate counterattack.
The blade slid home, sinking deep into Rhodes's stomach.
Time seemed to freeze. Rhodes's eyes widened in shock, his forward motion halting abruptly as the sword impaled him. Dark blood spilled over my hands, warm and bright. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged—just a soft exhale as the light in his eyes began to dim.
I released my grip on the sword, stepping back as Rhodes sank to his knees, the weapon still protruding from his body. His hands clutched weakly at the blade, but he lacked the strength to pull it free. With a final, rattling breath, he toppled sideways, his wings sprawling lifelessly behind him.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the distant sounds of fighting elsewhere in the tower. I stared at Rhodes's body, at the blood pooling beneath him, unable to fully process what had just happened.
I had killed an archangel. Not in the heat of battle against an anonymous enemy, but in close combat, looking into his eyes as life left his body. The weight of it settled over me like a physical burden, making it hard to breathe.
“Ariella.” Levi's voice, gentle but urgent, broke through my shock. He had subdued Haines, who knelt silent and bound, his face a mask of cold resignation as he looked at his fallen leader.
