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Everything was taken from me, and instead of understanding my revenge, they took my wings too. There’s nothing left of the old Emrick, not a shred of who I used to be. All that remains is the darkness inside, the selfish need to protect my own as long as that included me, for I’d throw any of these men under a train if it meant sparing my own life.
Somehow, Cara knew I didn’t want to kill those people. I reached out and dragged her down the rabbit hole with me, and she came through. Killing is not something I take lightly, no matter what everyone thinks of me. If I can avoid it, I will, and in the instances where it is absolutely necessary, often I’ll be a coward and leave it to someone else.
Not those first men, though, the ones I killed which led to my wings being taken. I took great pleasure in that act. When the street was stained with splatters of their blood, and it was washing away in the rain and down the gutter, I had no regrets.
No regrets, except that I couldn’t go back to save Emily. No amount of celestial magic could turn back time or bring back the dead.
Was Cara my second chance? My redemption? A rare diamond who not only saw past my darkness but felt it within her too. I’d be bad for her if she already struggled with internal conflict, being around me would only make it worse. I didn’t even know what it was she was hiding. Would she tell me if I pushed her? Did she trust me enough to?
She had no reason to, and I don’t blame her. Trusting me would be poor judgment.
And as petty as it seemed, I could not get past the fact she was tainted—touched by a demon,fuckedby a demon. I simply couldn’t forgive her for that.
Standing abruptly, Tate glanced up at me, shifting his eyes away from the activity on the dance floor and in the bar. He was watching Cara, and I had been trying to avoid doing exactly that all night. When we returned early this morning and I shoved her through the back doorway, Tate was waiting. She had stumbled and fallen near his feet, looking up at him, her eyes wide, and her face and clothes smeared in blood and dirt.
Tate simply raised an eyebrow at me as she scrambled to her feet and ran away, and I lifted a shoulder. He asked no questions.
But tonight he was watching her closely, and she had not cast a single glance up to the balcony. Whether from respect or fear, I wasn’t sure.
It hardly mattered. I needed to get my head back in the game. Someone inside this building was trying to bring me down, had even gone as far as hiring people to destroy my properties. I’d spent the day going over potentials, looking into the files I kept on everyone, trying to find a weak spot someone could use to exploit them. Or perhaps something that would lead them to try to take what’s mine. I was no closer to figuring out who it was, and as much as I’d throw them all under the bus, they would do the same to me. Loyalty only stretched so far, and as long as they were paid and kept in a lifestyle they enjoyed while being able to play out their violent desires, they had no need to overthrow me.
No, something deeper was going on here. Targeting Spicy had been a mistake because that onlyconfirmedit was an inside job, as no one else could have known it was one of my venues.
So now, everyone was on my shit list.
I had work to do to uncover the traitor, but before that, I needed to get Cara’s demon-fuck betrayal out of my head, and that meant calling in a long overdue favor.
When she opened the door this time, she was more cautious. Given the last time I was here, I had grabbed her the second I could fit my arm through the door, her caution wasn’t only understandable but smart.
“Emrick,” she said, her tone deadpan.
“Ray.”
Ray was leaning against the door, keeping it open only a crack so I could see her face. She knew what I was and could feel the flicker of celestial power that lived within me and hadn’t died just yet. I hoped the fact I wasn’t breaking the door down, prying it from her grip and slamming the wood panel into her face was an olive branch.
Because she knew I could do it.
Fallen angel.
Dangerous.
Can’t be trusted.
Murderer.
“Can I come in?”
She frowned at me as if unsure why I was asking. It felt strange, and I hadn’t realized I was asking until the words had already escaped. I don’taskfor permission, Itake.
How long had it been since I asked like that?
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said.
Sliding my sunglasses off, I stared into her eyes, leaning one hand on the doorframe and the other on the door. “Let me in, or I’ll break this door off its hinges.” So much for the olive branch.
She stood back. “All right, all right, you’re all about the drama, aren’t you?”
Ilsa was sitting on the couch, reading, but she tossed her book to the side and scrambled to her feet when I came in.
