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Cade finally glanced up, a tired half-smile on his face. “Old habits. Besides, having Sterling in the loop might save our asses someday.”

“Case details sent,” he muttered, pocketing his phone. “The old man better appreciate this. I'm running on fumes here.”

Cassiel hovered nearby, watching our exchange with that unnervingly intense stare he hadn't dropped since we'd left the abandoned house. His head tilted slightly as he focused on Cade's phone.

“You are sending information... through the ether?” he asked, his voice gravely serious.

I glanced up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. His face remained completely straight, eyes squinted in genuine confusion.

Cade huffed out a laugh as he slid into the driver's seat of the Impala. “It's called texting,” Cade said curtly. “Electronic communication.”

Cassiel's brow furrowed deeper, and he leaned closer to examine the phone in Cade's hand. “I was not aware the ether could be controlled by men.” His frown deepened, as if the device personally offended him. “Yet you hold it in your hand.”

I sighed, rubbing at my temples where a headache was building. Between the revelation that I might not be entirely human, nearly getting killed by whatever was possessing Hayes, and now being stuck with an angel who didn't understand basic technology, this day was really going for the gold medal in the Worst Day Olympics.

“Cade,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat, “this thing doesn't even understand basic technology.”

Cassiel tilted his head even further, reminding me of a confused bird. “I am many thousands of years old. My knowledge spans the creation of stars and the death of civilizations.”

“Yeah, but you don't know what a cell phone is,” I pointed out, tucking mine into my jacket pocket.

“The affairs of humans are... numerous and often trivial,” Cassiel replied with apparent sincerity.

“Just get in the car,” I groaned, gesturing to the back seat. “Unless you want to zap yourself to... wherever it is angels go when they're not bothering humans.”

Cassiel stared at the car door for a long moment before awkwardly opening it and folding his too-stiff body into the back seat. “This vessel finds your mode of transportation... limiting.”

“Well, it's that or walking,” Cade replied tersely, starting the engine.

The angel fell silent, though his discomfort was palpable as Cade pulled away from the curb, leaving behind the abandoned house and its blood-soaked memories.

The ride was tense, to say the least. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, trying to process everything Cassiel had told us. Nephilim. Half-angel. It was ridiculous, of course. Had to be. Just another supernatural creature trying to mess with our heads.

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts like rats in the walls.

In the rearview mirror, I could see Cassiel sitting awkwardly in the back seat, his posture unnaturally straight, eyes fixed on the passing scenery with an intensity that suggested he was seeing things beyond the physical world. He hadn't bothered with a seatbelt, which seemed fitting somehow. What would a car crash matter to an angel?

“I find this method of travel...” Cassiel began, his deep voice breaking the silence, arms folded stiffly across his chest, “very slow.”

“Well, sorry we're not teleporting,” Cade muttered, taking a corner perhaps a bit sharper than necessary. “Some of us are stuck with human limitations.”

“I could transport us instantaneously,” Cassiel offered, completely serious. “Though the experience can be... unpleasant for humans. Your internal organs would feel compressed.”

“Hard pass,” I replied quickly. The idea of having my insides squeezed like a tube of toothpaste wasn't particularly appealing. “We'll stick with the car, thanks.” I glanced back at him, a smirk tugging at my lips despite everything.”What's the rush? Somewhere you need to be?”

Cassiel turned his gaze toward me, expression utterly unreadable, those ancient eyes seeming to look through me rather than at me. “I am exactly where I need to be.”

There was something in his tone that killed my burgeoning amusement, replacing it with an uneasy weight in my gut. Like he knew something we didn't. Something bad. But then again, that seemed to be the angel's whole schtick—cryptic warnings delivered with all the charm of a funeral director.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, broken only by the rumble of the car’s engine.

We pulled up to my warehouse on the edge of the industrial district. I'd bought the place years ago when property values had tanked, converting the upper floor into a livable space while keeping the ground floor for storage, training, and the occasional impromptu shooting range. The brick exterior was weathered and unremarkable, blending in with the other abandoned-looking buildings in the area. But inside, it was home – the only real one I'd had since leaving the Byrnes.

Something felt off the moment we stopped. Lights were on inside. The security light above the side entrance, which we always kept off to avoid announcing our presence, was burning bright.

“Someone's inside,” I murmured, hand automatically moving to the gun tucked at my waist.

Cade tensed beside me, his own hand hovering near his weapon. “Sterling?”