Page 29 of Fated Wings
Vex swung, knuckles smashing Vaughn’s cheek. Vaughn didn’t fall. He drove forward, ripped the demon’s head back by a fistful of hair, and buried his other hand straight into Vex’s chest. Newt gagged.
With a savage pull, Vaughn ripped his hand free. A wet sound tore the air as he yanked a black, pulsing hunk from Vex’s chest.
Newt was shocked the demon had a heart.
Vex’s knees buckled as he dropped like a puppet whose strings had snapped.
Silence fell hard enough to make Newt’s ears ring around the crackle of dying sparks.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved except the fireworks sputtering out above, their last little pops shamelessly festive. Newt’s wrists throbbed. The cuffs dug deeper. He swallowed a hysterical laugh that wanted to crawl up his throat. Of course his release spell had turned into a celebration of death.
Loud footsteps could be heard outside the door. The wood burst inward, hinges shrieking their protest. Zeppelin hit first, a wall of calm fury, with Quinn three strides behind him and the rest piling in like a small army.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Zeppelin said, gaze cutting over Vex’s body to the blood-streaked walls. “Same damn place. What kind of bargain-bin demon keeps the old lair?”
“An overconfident moron,” Bayne added, already crossing to Newt. “Hold still, little guy.”
“No problem,” Newt said, voice thin. “I am one with this furniture.”
“How did you find us?” Vaughn asked, voice hoarse.
“Preston found your phone by the closet,” Quinn explained. “We figured something was wrong when neither of you answered our calls.”
Tools appeared, actual bolt cutters and a pry bar someone had scavenged, and then everything turned into noise and pressure. Metal screamed as Quinn jammed the bar beneath a cuff. Zeppelin braced the frame with both hands while Bayne leveraged the cutters around a lock and squeezed. The cuff snapped with a gunshot crack that shot pain up Newt’s arm. He hissed, bit his tongue, and swallowed copper.
“Two more,” Quinn said.
They worked fast. Wrenched. Yanked. Snapped. Each level of freedom hurt in a different way, circulation roaring back like anger with nowhere to go. Ankles last, because life liked to save its most annoying for the end. The final cuff popped. Newt’s leg kicked without permission and almost introduced his foot to Bayne’s face.
“Oops, sorry,” Newt breathed. “Unruly limbs.”
“You’re good,” Bayne said, scooting just far enough away to keep his nose from getting hit.
Before Newt could try to sit up on his own, Vaughn was there. He dragged Newt off the rack with careful strength, like lifting something precious and possibly booby-trapped. Newt didn’t even pretend to resist. He folded into Vaughn’s chest and locked both hands in the back of the ruined Henley.
Warmth soaked his front. Blood and sweat and the stubborn smell of pine and something wild that steadied him better than any spell he’d ever mangled. Vaughn trembled against him, tiny earthquakes traveling through muscle that had just ripped a demon open. Newt realized he shook, too, a jitter down to the bones he couldn’t seem to stop.
“I thought I'd lost you,” Vaughn murmured against his hair, arms tightening around him. “When he had that prod—”
“But you didn’t,” Newt interrupted, pulling back just enough to look up at Vaughn’s face. “You saved me. You saved us both.”
Vaughn nodded, still holding Newt as if afraid he might disappear. “Can you walk?”
“Probably not with any dignity, but I can try,” Newt admitted. “Though I might need to lean on you a bit.”
Without hesitation, Vaughn swept him up into his arms, cradling him against his chest like he weighed nothing. Newt wanted to protest, but the solid warmth of Vaughn’s body felt too good to argue against.
Vaughn’s arms tightened, almost fierce. Heat soaked into Newt’s chilled fingers.
“Let’s go home,” his mate said softly, following Zeppelin toward the door.
Fireworks ash drifted down like confetti on a party no one wanted. Newt clutched Vaughn harder anyway, because surviving deserved a little celebration, even if it was just two idiots trembling together in a nightmare that had finally ended.
* * * *
The next morning, steam curled around Vaughn as he stepped out of the shower, towel slung around his hips. His body ached in places he’d forgotten existed, reminders of yesterday's fight with Vex. It had been worth it, every bruise, every cut, small prices to pay for freedom from the demon who'd haunted his life.
For the first time in months, he’d slept through the night. No nightmares. No waking up in cold sweats, heart pounding like it might burst through his ribs. Just darkness and rest, with Newt curled against him like some kind of magic charm against bad dreams.
