“I was just telling them that,” Hunt said, gesturing to the empty husks of metal.
Isaiah clapped Hunt on the shoulder. “Thank you—for fighting for us until the end. Your mom would be proud, I think. Really damn proud, Hunt.”
Hunt didn’t have words, so he nodded, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. “Where do we go from here, though? I don’t know shit about building governments. Do you?”
“No,” Isaiah said. “But I think we’re about to get a crash course.”
“That’s not reassuring.” Hunt turned back toward the city. It was a shock to his system, as great as a zap of his lightning, to see the familiar skyline without the spires of the crystal palace.
The Asteri were gone.
He needed to get back to Bryce. To hold her, smell her, kiss her. No other reason than that. Than the fact that he’d come so, so close to losing her.
“Hunt,” Isaiah said. The white-winged angel’s eyes were solemn. “You could rule the angels, you know.”
Hunt blinked slowly.
Isaiah went on, “We’ll dismantle the Archangels and their schools and the hierarchies, and it’ll take years, but in the meantime, we’ll need a leader. Someone to guide us, rally us. Give us courage to turn from the old ways and toward something new. Something fair.” He folded his wings. “That should be you.”
Twice now, angels had bowed to him. Twice now, they’d given him that acknowledgment and permission. And yeah, with the Helfire in his veins, he could lead. Could blast any holdout Archangel or faction into submission.
But …
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket to glance down.
Bryce Gives Me Magical Orgasms, Literally had messaged him.
Where are you?? I’m having separation anxiety! Get back here!!!
Another buzz, and she added, After you do whatever you need to, I mean. Like, I’m supportive of you taking space for yourself and doing what has to be done.
Another buzz.
But also get back here right now.
Hunt choked on his laugh. He had everything he needed. Everything he’d ever want.
Don’t get your panties in a twist, Quinlan, he answered. I’ll be back soon.
Then he added, Actually, do me a favor and take your panties off altogether.
He didn’t wait for her response as he slid his phone into his back pocket and grinned at Isaiah.
His friend’s eyebrows were high, no doubt surprised that he’d answered texts instead of replying to such a serious suggestion.
But Hunt had his answer. He’d had it for some time now.
He clapped Isaiah on the shoulder and said, “The angels already have a leader to steer them through this, Isaiah.”
“Celestina—”
“Not Celestina.” He squeezed his friend’s shoulder once, then stepped back, wings flapping, readying to carry him to his wife, his mate, his best friend. To the future that awaited them. “You.”
“Me?” Isaiah said, choking. “Athalar—”
Hunt lifted a few feet off the ground, hovering a beat as the autumn breeze ruffled his wings, his hair, singing of the newness of the world to come. “Lead the angels, Isaiah. I’m here if you need me.”
“Hunt.”