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Hitting an invisible wall, I halted. “You can’t honestly say you believe that demon?”

“Don’t call her that.” My dad stopped inches from me. “She’s concerned. And so am I.”

My mouth was too dry as I rasped, “Her concern isn’t real, and yours isn’t necessary—especially if you’re going to continue lying to me.”

His vivid slate eyes dimmed with shadows as his shoulders slouched. An emotion I knew all too well tugged his lids closed, and his wrath dissipated right in front of me. I stayed strong until he finally lifted his head and looked at me—really looked at me—with a reverence like he was standing before…an angel.

“I’m the one who raised you since Mom passed. The one who chauffeured you all over town, who packed every lunch, who rubbed your head and read you stories to help soothe your senses so you could actually fall asleep at night…” The slight shake in his hands made it to his words. “I have dozens of flaws. I know I do. But one thing I will never apologize for is what I’ve done to protect you.”

A sob crept up my throat. I swallowed it back. The air stung my nostrils. “Dad, I’m not a little girl anymore. I understand you want to protect me, but the way you’ve gone about it…” I shook my head. “It hasn’t been good for my mental health, but now it’s affecting my safety.”

When his lips parted and his shoulders unfurled, for a wild, desperate moment, I thought I’d finally gotten through to him. The truth was one heartbeat away. But I should’ve known the lies had been too ingrained in his mind for him to give in after one fight. Worse, maybe he even started believing them.

“I think you should go to your room.” There was a flintiness to him, but it was forced. “For the remainder of summer, you are to stay in this house unless it’s for an approved activity. Approved, River. No sneaking out to go surfing. Do you understand?”

No. No, I didn’t understand. My spine buckled beneath the weight of disappointment. His touch was caustic as he brushed past me down the hall.

I stomped after him. “You can’t hold me hostage!”

Features as stoic as his tone, he turned to me. “I can. You’re still under my care. You don’t like it? Move out.”

Air whooshed into my lungs, angry words waiting to be spoken, and I let it loose in a hiss. “I just told you I was basically in danger, and this is your reaction!?”

“Then it sounds like staying here is the safest thing for you.” He slipped into his room and closed the door so fast I didn’t even have time to form a reaction.

Staggering back a few feet into my own bedroom, I slammed the door and whirled to lean against it, my back scraping against its indents as I slid down it. My knees provided a cushion as I laid my head onto them and let it come: all the tears, all the emotions, pouring out.

The skin below my eyes felt scalded now, bearing the brunt of so much pain. The only part of my body that endured a worse fate was my heart. That felt like it’d been ripped out at the bar—and my dad was the one who stomped on it until it was nothing but a splattering of muscle.

Hands gravitating to the empty spot above my chest, I pulled at my phantom necklace. As my eyes drifted shut, its symbol pierced the pitch-black behind my lids. A raindrop with two four-pointed stars. The Empyrean symbol for water, one of four. Four Watchers. Four elements. Four watchtowers. I still had the coordinates—the paper had fluttered to the floor, flattening under my dad’s crocs as he’d stepped on it to follow me. I hadn’t heard him leave his room to retrieve it, so it should still be there, crinkled on the carpet. Waiting.

I didn’t need Ryder—I didn’t need my dad to carry on with this quest. I was a descendent of a freaking archangel, the Angel of Water, a guardian of the mortal realm. It was time to follow Akosua’s directive. I would no longer rely on anyone but myself.

“To your watchtowers,” I whispered. Shooting to my feet, I changed out of my cutoffs, slipped on some leggings, and laced my high tops. I gathered some bobby pins and tossed them into the pockets of the black jacket I zipped up, in case I needed to pick a lock. Which probably wouldn’t work on a popular landmark, but whatever. It was all I had. I cracked open the door.

After assessing the sounds—the steady hum of idle appliances, the sporadic knocks of the ice machine, the muffled voices from the TV in my dad’s room—I snuck into the hallway, cringing at every ungodly loud creak that broke the silence.

Sure enough, the scrap of the article lay atop the brown-and-beige shag. It joined the rest of my arsenal in my windbreaker’s pocket, up against my phone. A flutter, tiny but undeniable, stirred in my gut. I’d meant to text Javi back earlier, but I got sidetracked.

Fingers trembling, I pulled out my cell phone and tapped the screen. Two percent battery. There was no time to charge it. Tonight would either build me or destroy me, and I couldn’t let our last words be the ugliness that spewed from my lips. On a soft inhale, I started typing, trying to stave off the worry that the words wouldn’t be perfect.

ILY and I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

I promise I’ll tell you everything.

Soon.

I should’ve ended it there, but my thumbs pecked with abandon.

Keep this JIC

36.951696, -122.026677

I didn’t even care to take it with me or lock it. It’d be dead before I descended the stairs. I continued on my journey, tiptoeing across the hall, down the carpeted steps. With a quiet twist of the lock and a turn of the knob, I stepped into the moonlight.

Chapter 32