Chapter

Thirty-Three

S erenity

Panic clawed at my chest, each heartbeat a thundering reminder of precious seconds slipping away as Angelo’s eyes fluttered shut, like dying stars fading from my universe. My trembling hands seized his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as I shook him with desperate force. “Angelo, no, no, no. Come back to me.”

But he remained completely still, a marble statue stretched across the ground. His face had taken on the ashen pallor of death, skin almost translucent in the dim light, with blue veins stark beneath. His breath came in shallow whispers, each one fainter than the last, like autumn leaves scattered in a dying wind.

Trystan released a mournful howl that pierced the night, the sound ancient and primal—a wolf’s recognition of approaching death. Around us, his pack took up the lament, their voices weaving together in a haunting chorus that made my heart ache even more.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” I cried out. “Not now. Not when we’re finally together again.” The words felt like glass in my throat, sharp and cutting.

Drawing deep within myself, I summoned my healing power, my Nephilim power burning through my veins like a shooting star. I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling the weak flutter of his immortal heart beneath. A white glow spiraled around us, casting ethereal shadows across his vampiric features. Then I felt it—something dark and malevolent writhing inside him, the demon spear’s essence tearing through his flesh like serrated shadows, fighting against my light with ancient malice.

“It’s not working.” The words came out as a broken whisper as I looked up at Poison, my vision blurring with tears of frustration and terror. Fear gripped me like an icy fist around my heart, squeezing until I could barely breathe. The thought of losing Angelo—my Angelo—sent waves of panic crashing through me, threatening to drown me in despair. I couldn’t lose him. Not after everything we’d been through, not when I’d finally found someone who saw past my Nephilim nature to the soul beneath. “Why isn’t my power working?”

She gave me a sympathetic look, her ancient eyes holding wisdom I desperately needed. “Draw on your love. Call to him.” Her soft command bore a gentle authority, a reminder of something I should have known.

I closed my eyes, letting the world fall away until there was nothing but Angelo and me. I reached for my love for him—every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment when his touch had made me feel whole. It bloomed in my chest like the first rays of dawn after an endless cold night, warm and golden, a force more powerful than any healing magic I’d ever wielded. I channeled it through my hands, feeling it pulse with the rhythm of my heart.

As my love poured into him, I sensed the darkness inside him retreating like shadows before dawn. It tried to hide in the corners of his being, a writhing, malevolent force desperate to maintain its hold. But my love pursued it relentlessly, backing it into the furthest reaches until there was nowhere left to run. The darkness shriveled and died, extinguished by the pure force of what Angelo and I shared, leaving behind nothing but clean, healing light.

As my light slowly faded, Angelo’s wound disappeared and he exhaled.

I gasped, my body trembling with the intensity of what had just flowed through me. The power of it left me dizzy, exhilarated and drained all at once. I’d never felt anything like this—love in its purest form, a tangible force strong enough to vanquish darkness. It wasn’t just healing magic; it was us, our love made manifest, more powerful than any spell or incantation could ever be. My hands still tingled where they had touched him, as if reluctant to break the connection we’d shared, and my heart swelled with a love so deep it felt like it might burst from my chest.

Someone put their hand on my shoulder, the touch firm yet gentle, and I looked up at Keir, his towering presence both reassuring and intimidating. “He needs to sleep. My harpies will take him to my home to heal.” He motioned toward the tall, menacing creatures, their wings casting shifting shadows across the ground, their ancient eyes gleaming with predatory intelligence.

I wasn’t convinced they could protect him, my chest tight with lingering fear. The thought of letting Angelo out of my sight made my heart clench painfully. “What about Balthazar? What if he tries to ambush them?” Determination and exhaustion nearly consumed me, but I still clutched Angelo’s still form, refusing to release him.

Poison’s smile held a knowing edge, her ethereal features illuminated with dark amusement. “I think he’s busy right now with Michael’s invasion. Lucifer won’t be happy.”

“But what about Raphael? Isn’t he in danger?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my mind racing with all the possible threats to those I cared about. The supernatural war suddenly felt crushingly real. All the stories I had been taught in Bible class when I was a kid were real. Terrifyingly, bone-chillingly real.

“Yes.” She held up her palm, her expression grave yet accepting. “Angels, even archangels, are always in danger from demons. We have been at war since the beginning of time.” Her eyes reflected centuries of conflict as she looked away. “He’ll be alerted now about Balthazar’s plan.”

My stomach, already knotted with fear, twisted in a new direction. “But how does he know this?”

“Because I was telling him telepathically.” Her eyes held a distant look, as if seeing beyond our physical realm. “I’m connected with him. He’s my commander and we have a special bond.” Her expression softened with what might have been fondness. “I need to get back to Hollows Academy to let my mate know I’m okay. I’m a professor there.”

“Hollows Academy?”

“It’s actually within a supernatural prison. Some prisoners are given the opportunity to reform and change their ways. If not, they must remain there and serve their sentence.”

I never realized that there was a prison for supernaturals. Hopefully, Angelo would never end up there. I had a feeling it would make human prisons look like school detention.

“But first…” She held out her palm where my mother’s soul hovered—a soft, pulsing light that somehow held all the warmth and love I remembered. “…I need to escort your mom to heaven. She’s suffered long enough.” The sight of my mother’s soul made my throat tight with a complex mixture of grief, relief, and hope.

I wished I could hug my mom one more time, feel her arms around me telling me everything would be okay. The sob I’d been holding back finally broke free, raw and unrestrained.

“You’ll keep her safe?” I managed, wiping futilely at my tears.

“It’s my job to guard souls and escort them to heaven.”

I took a shuddering breath and straightened my shoulders, trying to be brave for her one last time. “Goodbye, Mom,” I whispered, watching the light that was her essence pulse once—almost like a response—before I had to look away.

“You’ll see her again. Just not yet. Take care, Serenity. You’ll see your dad soon. I promise.”

Butterflies beat against my chest at thought of meeting my dad, but right now, he was fighting in hell. I looked down at Angelo. I had my own battle to fight.

Poison flew out between the open doors and disappeared into the night.

Rose knelt next to me, her face drawn with the kind of fear that only comes from watching someone you love slip away. “I know you’re worried about Angelo, but...” She cleared her throat as tears slid down her cheeks, each one tracing precious seconds ticking away. “My mate, Valentin, he’s dying. Keir says he doesn’t have much longer to live.”

She had helped us during this war against Balthazar, fighting alongside us without complaint even as her own world was crumbling. The thought of leaving Angelo left me cold, my heart torn between two impossible choices. But looking at Rose’s face, seeing the same desperate love I felt for Angelo reflected in her eyes, I knew what I had to do. I sighed, the sound heavy with shared understanding. “Where is he?”

“At Keir’s.” Hope flickered across her tear-stained features, fragile as a candle flame in the wind.

For once, I didn’t have to choose between duty and love, between helping another and protecting my own. I put my hand on her shoulder, feeling her trembling beneath my touch. “Yes, I’ll help him.” This was a promise—one soul-bonded warrior to another, understanding the devastating depth of possibly losing your other half.

Enzo studied me. “Do you think you can? You’ve used your power on Angelo.”

“I think it’s my wings. I don’t feel drained.”

“Touching as this howling tribute is,” Dimitri cut in, his voice razor-sharp with barely contained desperation, “my brother is dying right now. Serenity—” He turned to me, the facade of sarcasm cracking to reveal raw fear. “You have the power to heal Valentin. We need to go. Now.”

Enzo scanned the church, his survival instinct evident in his taut posture. “I suggest we return as well. Balthazar is drawn to this place and I don’t think we should linger.”

Trystan bowed his head as if giving Angelo homage, the gesture full of ancient respect between supernatural kings, then he led his pack out of the church, their movements silent and coordinated like shadows at dusk.

A harpy stretched its black wing, the feathers gleaming like polished obsidian, then picked up Angelo with its talons, cradling him with unexpected gentleness. Keir climbed onto the other’s back with fluid grace born of long practice.

I stood and my wings unfurled, the sensation still strange yet increasingly natural, like remembering a forgotten dance. “I will meet you at Keir’s.” The words came out stronger than I felt. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Balthazar would track me down like a bloodhound and drag me back to hell to finish what he started with my father.

“We won’t be far behind,” Enzo promised, touching my shoulder with fraternal concern. His gaze betrayed a haunted knowledge of Angelo’s darker nature as he added, “Be careful. If anything happens to you, I’ll end up in Angelo’s secret room.” No one ever came out of the room alive.

“I will.” I kissed him on the cheek, trying to dispel the chill his words had sent through me.

The harpies soared into the night air and I lunged into the sky, momentarily losing myself in the pure freedom of flight, relishing the cool caress of the night wind. But when I looked down at the graveyard, my breath caught in my throat. A pair of red eyes gleamed in the darkness, watching me with predatory intensity, then vanished like a nightmare at dawn.

I flapped harder, my heart hammering against my ribs as I caught up with the harpies.

“Keir?”

“I saw it too,” he said, his ancient voice grave. “We don’t know what it is yet. But it’s not Balthazar. It’s something else.”

I shuddered at his words, exhaustion and fear weaving together in my chest. I was so tired of dark entities following Angelo and me, each new threat stealing another piece of peace from our lives. I didn’t want to fight another supernatural being, didn’t want to face whatever new horror those red eyes promised. All I wanted was to be alone with Angelo, to fall into his arms and pretend, just for a moment, that we were normal lovers without supernatural threats lurking in every shadow.