Page 33 of Gargoyle Defender

He tore through another doorway, sprinting back through the corridor they’d just cleared, stepping over the unconscious human guards and smoldering demon remains. Fear clawed at Ronen’s insides, driving him forward with desperate speed. His wings unfurled as they reached the gaping hole they’d created upon entry, and without hesitation, he launched himself into the night sky with Geordie following close behind.

Every beat of his wings drove him faster through the night sky, the Miami coastline blurring beneath him. The bond between him and Tanner pulsed like a physical thing, drawing him back to the lair.

“Ezekiel,” he projected. “Ezekiel, respond.”

No answer.

Cold dread washed over Ronen as he pushed his wings harder, faster than he'd ever flown before. The silence in his mind where Ezekiel’s response should’ve been filled him with terror.

“Something's wrong,” he relayed to Geordie, who kept pace behind him. “I can’t reach Ezekiel.”

As they approached the mission, Ronen’s heightened senses detected the faint trace of sulfur carried on the night breeze. His stomach dropped.

Demons.

They landed hard with a thud, the need to conceal themselves without shifting forcing them to pause before rushing into the church. Ronen clenched his jaw as he checked their surroundings. At this point, he didn’t care whether they were spotted. All that mattered was saving Tanner.

Geordie grabbed his arm. “I know. But we can’t barrel in and cause more problems than we solve.”

Ronen realized he’d been shouting in his mind, his rage projecting to Geordie.

“I want this shit over with,” he growled back.

Geordie gave him a quick nod. “Same.” He jerked his head toward the cathedral. “While you’ve been seething, I’ve made sure the coast is clear.”

Ronen charged forward without another word, Geordie at his heels. They burst into the cathedral, moving silently despite their massive stone forms. The sanctuary was eerily quiet, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the pews. Ronen’s nostrils flared as he caught another whiff of sulfur, stronger now, mixed with something else. His gut tightened from the scent of blood.

They approached the hidden entrance to the lair, and Ronen froze. The ornate confessional that concealed the doorway stood ajar, the wood splintered around the lock.

“Stay alert,” Geordie whispered. “Could be a trap.”

Ronen barely heard him, the thundering of his pulse drowning out everything but the desperate need to find Tanner. He descended the spiral staircase in great bounds, landing with a thunk at the bottom. The corridor ahead was dark, the usual magical lights extinguished.

As he feared, the lead doors that were the most solid defense against evil were open, unprotected. No sentinels were present, and the silence only made the surroundings eerier.

He couldn’t risk projecting strategy to Geordie, not when Victor might be listening in, so he tapped Geordie’s arm. Ronen pointed to the corridor that led to the guest room. Geordie nodded in response.

They moved cautiously, Ronen straining to hear any sound—breathing, movement, anything that would tell him Tanner was alive. When they reached their destination, Ronen’s breath hitched. The door to the chamber was cracked open, a thin slice of light cutting across the darkened hallway.

Ronen pushed the barrier open with one massive stone hand, his heart freezing at the sight before him. Ezekiel lay crumpled in the corner, blood seeping from a wound at his temple. The computers Tanner had been working on were smashed, screens shattered and sparking. And in the center of the room…

Victor stood with his back to them, his stone-like form unmistakable even from behind. But he wasn’t alone. A woman in a tailored suit stood beside him. Ronen bared his fangs. Marianne Walker. Her posture was rigid and unnatural. Between them, slumped in a chair with his head lolling forward, was Tanner.

“No!” The roar tore from Ronen's throat before he could stop himself, the sound reverberating off the stone walls.

Victor turned slowly, a cruel smile twisting his features. “Ah, the devoted mate returns. Earlier than expected, I must admit.” He placed a clawed hand on Tanner’s shoulder, his talons digging into the fabric of Tanner’s shirt. "Your precious Nephilim put up quite a fight. Quite impressive for someone so...” He lifted one eyebrow. “Fragile."

Ronen narrowed his eyes, his lips curling back in a snarl. “Get the fuck away from him, you piece of useless filth!”

Victor’s claws tightened on Tanner's shoulder, drawing pinpricks of blood through the fabric. The sight made Ronen's vision blur with fury. With his head hung forward, Tanner’s dark hair obscured his face. But the shallow rise and fall of his chest confirmed he was still alive.

“I've waited centuries for this moment,” Victor’s voice dripped with contempt. “Do you have any idea how it feels to watch others find their mates while you’re passed over? To be told your time would come if you just kept serving faithfully?” He spat the last word as if it were poison.

Geordie stepped forward, his massive stone form blocking the doorway. “You betrayed us all, Victor. Every oath you took, every battle we fought together. It meant nothing to you!”

Marianne Walker remained unnaturally still beside Victor, her eyes glassy and vacant. The demonic possession was visible in the unnatural orange glow of her eyes, the way she held herself too rigidly. Victor had control over her, but how much remained of the human woman was impossible to tell.

“You don't understand what true betrayal feels like,” Victor growled, his talons digging deeper into Tanner's shoulder. “To be denied what others receive so freely. To watch as newcomers like you are gifted mates while I’ve waited my turn.” He grunted. “It’s all bullshit!”