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Straight for my Evie.
Heidi had said his office was on the top floor, so I landed on the roof of Tyson’s apartment building. I could’ve taken the window out, but there was a shred of control left within me that reminded me I could hurt Evie that way. There was no way of knowing where she’d be in the room, and barreling through a glass window gave me little control over who got hurt.
The doors on the roof were kept locked for obvious reasons, only opening from the inside.
This posed no problem.
Folding my wings away, I forced the doorhandle downward until it broke off, the lock mechanism falling noisily to the concrete in pieces. When I wrenched the door open, I heard the creak of the hinges as they protested and bent. Then using one hand, I lunged over the railing and dropped to the floor below.
Straightening, I moved silently to the door, pressing my ear against the wood and keeping low so as not to be seen, just in case anyone had heard me land and was looking out of the peephole. It occurred to me they might have cameras in the hall and the apartment, but I’d worry about that later.
The sound of someone being struck was clear through the door, followed by a whimper that I knew to be Evie. I lost what little control I had left.
There were too many people like Tyson in the world, who used others for their own gain, and people like Tyson, they were almost the worst of the worst. One step above human traffickers with just as few morals. This city had more than its fair share of people like Tyson and whoever had done what they did to Heidi and Evie.
I’d find them too.
My boot hit the door, and in my rage, I had misjudged my strength. Instead of the door slamming open, it broke in the middle, and the two halves flew into the room. Evie was tied to a chair, facing away from the door, the man I assumed to be Tyson in front of her, his hand raised to strike again, blood on his knuckles and splattered on his face.
I saw white.
I couldn’t contain it.
Three steps and I was in the room, and the men to either side of the room rushed me.
But they never reached me.
My wings unfurled in all their holy glory, raised and menacing, casting an even darker shadow across my already darkened features. The men were knocked to the sides, colliding with the walls opposite. One was knocked unconscious, the other wasn’t, but dared not attack me again.
Tyson’s eyes widened, his hand stuck in mid-air in his shock, perpetually raised to strike again at the innocent woman in front of him. I bared my teeth and growled at him, my eyes glazing over a pure white that had the color draining from his face.
“Whatareyou?” he whispered.
With a single beat of my wings, the force of which had him staggering backward from Evie and toward the window behind him, I crossed the room, my toes dragging on the carpet. I stood immediately behind Evie, bearing down on the now cowering man in front of me.
“I’m her guardian angel…” I snarled and then continued, “… and your worst nightmare.”
He screamed as I grabbed the back of Evie’s chair, sliding her to the side and closing the space between Tyson and me. My wings closed around me, circling him, so all he could see was my face and the shades of my wings.
He surprised me, still having some fight in him.
With a flick of his wrist, he snatched out a concealed blade and stabbed it into my shoulder. I stared at the blade for a moment in shock he had dared attack. I supposed one didn’t get into his position unless they had a certain amount of bravery.
But a man like him, deep down, was filled with only cowardice.
He whimpered when I slid the blade from my shoulder, ignoring the stream of blood that followed it. That would heal itself. He cried out when I returned the gesture, stabbing the blade into his shoulder in the same spot he had mine.
He didn’t deal with the pain quite as well.
I took a step back as he dropped to the floor, howling and grabbing at his shoulder.
It seemed a bit of an overreaction, but okay.
The sound of a chair being broken over my wings roused me more than any feeling I got from it. My wings were made of tougher stuff than my skin and were not easily damaged. Tyson’s man backed away as I turned and advanced on him. He clutched at the broken pieces of the chair legs and held them in front of him in a cross formation with trembling hands.
I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
He eyed my wings, the white of my eyes, and then glanced at the cross before dropping the wood and holding his hands up in surrender. A moment later, he fell to his knees, pressing his hands together under his chin and staring at me desperately.
