“She admitted guilt,” Alik drawled. “And she provided reasons.”
“Reasons I said were asinine,” Balthazar countered. “She’s never been romantically inclined toward Wakefield. We all know that. We were just quick to assign guilt because we wanted a solution to the problem.”
“Jonathan received a call with the location we gave her,” Lucian said softly. “Mateo tracked the phone records.”
“It wasn’t me!” Clara shouted. “Why would I give that monster anything?”
Sethios considered asking what all this meant, but he had enough on his mind in regard to Caro and wherever the hell Gabriel had fucked off to.
“My services are no longer needed here,” he said, heading for the door. “Call me if you have a prisoner I can actually play with.”
He didn’t wait to hear a reply, his steps already carrying him out of the room—after Alik had moved out of his way—and down the hall.
The female Guardian stood waiting at the end, her friend long gone after whatever Lucian had said to her. Sethios gave the woman a nod, then left the hut and went to find Astasiya. They needed to have a chat about her dreams. Gabriel would come back eventually. If he didn’t, Sethios would send Leela to find him.
I’m done wasting time, angel, he thought at Caro. If you don’t want to reply to me, that’s fine. But I’m going to find you. Even if it means crashing the council chambers and dragging you home.
The more he considered that plan, the more he liked it.
What would they do? Rehabilitate him, too?
He nearly laughed.
If they couldn’t fix his father, they certainly couldn’t fix him. And neither of them could be killed. So why not?
If only I had my wings, he mused. Then I could mist right in there and grab you.
I miss you, she whispered back at him, causing him to freeze on the beach.
Caro? Was that really her, or a memory loop sent to taunt him?
Shh, she hushed him. They’ll hear you.
Who will?
I’m not supposed to be here. I have to go.
Go where? he demanded.
Nothing.
He growled low under his breath, fed up with this game of hints and no solutions. I’m done with this, he said. It’s time to do things my way.
With brute force.
Anger.
And a hell of a lot of blood.
He just needed a location for the rehabilitation facility, and he knew just whom to get it from—the only Seraphim currently on this fucking island. Leela.
There was a reason Gabriel preferred to live just outside the main Seraphim boundaries—privacy. That didn’t exist within the water veil encircling the primary cluster of South Pacific islands.
The barriers were built to keep mortals out. Ships and planes were diverted away from this area by technological and magical suggestions that essentially kept this place a secret on the globe. No mortal had ever discovered it.
Well, no mortal alive, anyway.
Gabriel had once heard a myth about the Bermuda Triangle from a mortal at a bar. He supposed the Seraphim region was a similar concept, only real and entirely undocumented. His kind ensured it stayed that way.
