Page 8 of Wings of Valor
I rinse the acrid taste of vomit from my mouth and warily head to the door. On the other side, I find all three of my guys looking ready to fight. What the hell? My gaze travels past them to the mound of pillows and blankets on the floor. I freeze. “Did you guys—”
Zeke barrels past me, opens my closet, and checks the bathroom and the locked balcony door.
Raphael takes my hand in his. “We heard you scream. Is everything alright?”
I offer him a sad smile. “I’m fine. It was just a bad dream.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” Zeke says, pulling me in close. I take it all in—his worry, his joy that I’m unharmed. The way he’s putting it all out there, no longer hiding behind a mask of indifference. What did I ever do to deserve these men?
“You had us worried, firefly.” Theo places a soft kiss against my lips while I’m still trapped in Zeke’s embrace. No one bats an eye at the shared affection.
“I’m sorry,” I say when he pulls back.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Theo taps the end of my nose affectionately. “Why don’t you go shower, then we’ll head to the cave for a quick meeting. Castiel got you a pass from Uriel’s class today. None of us think you should be around him without one of us with you.”
“He did? Wow. It’s probably best if I just drop his class altogether. It’s not like he’ll let me pass the final exam.” I unwillingly pull myself from Zeke’s embrace. “You three should go get cleaned up. I’ll meet you by the front doors in half an hour.”
Raphael looks like he wants to protest, but I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”
It takes another round of insisting before they finally leave. Part of me wishes they could stay, but I’m not good to anyone right now. My mind is toxic right now, and the last thing I want is to have my negative thoughts seep into them.
Wanting to be quick, I don’t bother washing my hair. With the way my thoughts are churning, what my hair looks like is the last thing on my mind. While I scrub myself raw, I try contacting my parents again with no success. It’s like something is blocking us from communicating. I just have to hope it’s only distance and that Azrael’s tool will help.
By the time I’m dressed, I’ve tried twice more to reach my parents and am in an even worse mood than before.
A notification flashes across my slate, and I dive for it, hope rising. Maybe my parents found a way to get a message to me.
I sigh when I realize it’s only Dina, letting me know she’s got some family shit to deal with and won’t be able to join us at the cave.
I wonder what her dad would think about the shit we’ve uncovered. Would he even care what the Fallen might end up facing? Or is he only concerned with his image? I doubt he’d mind that I’m now more than just the weird friend with strange wings.
Tucking my slate away, I grab my bag and begin the trek down to the main floor. The moment I step onto the last set of stairs, a shiver races down my spine.
Two familiar Fallen angels stand between me and the front door. Big Forehead and Thin Eyebrows. Just what I fucking need to deal with right now. With the two of them, it might seem like they’ve got the advantage—but with all the pent-up anger boiling inside me, it’stheirwellbeing I fear for.
Maybe they just want to talk. Doubtful, but still a possibility.
Big Forehead grins up at me, though it’s anything but friendly. “You’re a hard beastie to track down.”
“Maybe you’re just not a very good hunter,” I say, descending the last few steps.
“Watch your mouth, orphan,” Thin Eyebrows says with a sneer, halting me in my tracks.
Blood roars in my ears like thunder. “What the fuck did you just call me?”
The pair of them step forward as one, but it’s the bitch with overly plucked brows that answers.
“You heard me. Just like I heard your parents hated you so much they killed themselves instead of having to put up with you for another second.”
Rage builds so heavily inside me, I black out.
When I come to, I’m outside. Two of my guys have Big Forehead restrained—his pained wails piercing through my fog—while the other pulls me off Thin Eyebrows. She doesn’t make a sound. Her face is a bloody mess, and what little eyebrows shehad before are now gone. Judging by the smell, I’m guessing I burned them off.
“My eyes! What the fuck did you do to my eyes?!” Big Forehead sobs, repeating himself over and over.
“Hey,” Raph says, running a hand up and down my arms. I flinch. “It’s just me. You hurt?”
I shake my head, anger gripping me too hard to speak. How fucking dare they? Of course that piece of shit Uriel would twist the story and tell his minions to use it against me as ammo. Why am I even fucking surprised? He’s a rat bastard with zero morals.
