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Malachi spread his thick, leathery wings as he inhaled the cool, crisp mountain air, taking a moment to let his gargoyle freely stretch, to appreciate the raw beauty surrounding him.

This part of the range had been untouched by humans, and sometimes he fantasized that if he were ever united with his Fated Mate, this would be where they would live.

He loved the mountains, the stone of the Earth calling to him like a lover’s embrace.

Perched atop the highest point of the Shadow Slayers’ Colorado lair, hidden within the stone depths of the Rockies, he could see for miles in every direction.

It might be past midnight, but his sharp gargoyle vision allowed him to view every detail within the darkness.

While the modern cities of humanity held the occasional appeal, nothing matched the sheer grandeur of nature.

“Gorgeous," he murmured to himself, scraping his talons against the granite beneath him.

His human form was fine, no longer bothering him after centuries of use, but compared to his abilities as a gargoyle? Meh.

Skin to skin with a willing human was fun, and almost worth having a mortal form.

But otherwise, if the Divine Spark were to take away his ability to shift, he’d get over it soon enough.

He puffed out his chest, stretching again.

Although once he found his mate… Malachi shook his head.

No point in dwelling on his mysterious other half.

Who knew when he might show up? Just because he was a Shadow Slayer, and had been promised his Fated One upon achieving the required kills, it didn’t necessarily mean there was a mate ready and waiting for him.

It turned out there was a loophole they weren’t aware of until one of the Slayers reached his kill quota and was disappointed.

Pietro had reached a hundred and forty-four kills, even wiped out a few past that number, but no fated mate was to be had.

Mal pursed his lips.

Apparently, his mate hadn’t been born yet.

With his luck, he’d end up in the same predicament, which was why he refused to dwell on when he’d be united with the one who was meant to be his.

For now, he focused on the mission and took his pleasures when he could.

Malachi checked his weapon, which had been newly created by Archangel Michael.

The battle to eradicate the shadow gargoyles and rogue demons had increased in intensity over the past few months.

The consensus was that as the Slayers drew closer to their goal of ending the war, the enemy had grown more desperate, more brazen in their attacks.

Time was no longer on their side.

Malachi ran his palm over the bronze hilt of his fighting blade.

The metal was cool and solid in his grip, smooth under his calloused fingers.

The weight of the blade was a comfort, a reminder of the power it held and the duties he was meant to fulfill while wielding it.

A tingle ran up his spine as he sensed an incoming message.

The mental connection slid into place with ease, and Michael’s voice filled his mind. Clear, powerful, yet tinged with urgency.

“Mal. We have a situation in Aspen. I need you here right away.”

Malachi straightened, his wings folding against his back. “What kind of situation?”

“A kidnapping. One of the Nephilim children has been taken by rogues, and they’re demanding a ransom.”

“The fuck?”

This was a new tactic. “What kind of ransom?”

“You’ll find out with the others I’ve summoned after you arrive. Tune into my beacon and don’t waste any more time talking.”

And with that, Michael’s voice was replaced by a low-frequency hum that would guide him to the correct location.

The archangel wasn’t typically the life of the party, but he was unusually terse.

Whatever it was the rogues were asking, it had to be extreme.

Malachi mentally left a message for his fellow Sentinel that he was leaving his post, then shot into the night sky, his mighty wings beating against the frigid air.

The beacon pulsed in his mind, drawing him eastward toward Aspen.

Flying as a gargoyle was one of life’s great pleasures.

The rush of wind against his stony skin, the freedom of soaring above the world below—it never got old, even after centuries.

But tonight, Mal couldn’t enjoy the flight. Not when a precious Nephilim had been taken by such evil filth.

The act was unprecedented.

Shadow gargoyles generally focused on causing chaos and destruction, not kidnapping.

They were brutal, mindless creatures most of the time, which made this calculated move all the more concerning.

The lights of Aspen appeared below, a constellation of human existence nestled between mountain peaks.

Mal's enhanced vision picked out the subtle shimmer of Michael's protective barrier around a large estate on the outskirts of town.

He angled his wings and began his descent.

Malachi landed silently on the expansive back terrace of the estate, his clawed feet barely making a sound against the polished stone.

As he touched down, his form shimmered, bones shifting and skin softening as he transformed into his human appearance.

The change was second nature now, like stretching after a long nap.

“About time you showed up,”

came a familiar voice.

Mal turned to see Dante leaning against an ornate pillar, arms crossed over his chest. The other Shadow Slayer looked as casual as ever in dark jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, but the tension around his eyes betrayed his concern.

“Some of us have actual duties to attend to.”

Malachi rolled his shoulders as the last vestiges of his transformation settled. “Not all of us are lounging around with our mates in our fancy mountain cabins.”

Dante snorted. “Lounging? Hardly. I was pacing the carpet with Chara so Amir could finally get some sleep. In truth, so Leonardo could, too. She’s got an impressive set of lungs.”

Warmth filled Malachi at the mention of Dante and Amir’s two children. He never thought he’d see the day when the gruff Slayer would settle down.

“How old is Chara now?”

A twinge of shame filled him that he hadn’t even visited since she was born.

“Almost six months. And before you say another word, don’t worry about it.”

Dante pushed off the column. “You’re still officially on duty, and I’m supposed to be watching over my neck of the woods in the Cascades while taking care of my family.”

They strolled in tandem up the flagship stone walkway. “Which begs the question,”

said Mal, “Why are you here instead of still pacing that carpet?”

Dante regarded him, his lips set in a grim line. “If you're really interested in meeting our new baby, she’s in an upstairs bedroom with Amir and Leonardo.”

Malachi froze mid-step. “Did something happen? Why did you leave home?”

“Nothing specific happened. It’s more that I…”

He cleared his throat. “If you say one word of this to anyone, I swear to all that is holy…”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “Promise you won’t say anything.”

Mal chuckled. He sensed that Dante’s hyper-masculine pride was behind his pleas. “Sure. I promise.”

Dante lifted one eyebrow. “You can do that?”

Mal let out a tired sigh. “Yes, I mean it. Michael’s going to have a fit if we don’t hurry up, so tell me what happened already.”

Dante dragged his hand across the top of his head. “I freaked out. I never cared so much before, you know? I always figured, oh well. If I go down, that’s the way it goes. Get dumped into heaven and deal with everlasting boredom. But now with Amir and the kids…”

His voice cracked. “I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to them. So I might’ve told Michael that Amir was scared, and I brought them all here to appease him. Safety in numbers and all that.”

Malachi’s lips twitched with amusement, but he kept his promise and didn’t mock his fellow Slayer. Instead, he clasped Dante’s shoulder with genuine understanding.

“The mighty have fallen.”

He smiled, hoping that Dante knew his words held no judgment. “But I get it. Having something to lose changes everything.”

“It’s fucking terrifying.”

Dante shook his head. “I'd rather face a hundred shadow gargoyles at once than see a single scratch on any of them.”

As they approached the main entrance of the estate, Malachi noticed the intricate sigils etched into the doorframe. Michael’s signature handiwork was apparent. The archangel had warded the massive home with the highest level of protection.

Mal’s voice dropped to a professional tone. “So what do we know about the kidnapped Nephilim?”

Dante’s expression darkened. “Young man named Danny Rutherford. Local ski instructor, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Michael was getting some additional intel from Ronen and Cassiel when I came out here to wait for you.”

Malachi tilted his head. “I thought they were in the Boston lair?”

“They were, but activity there died down to nothing after Zeke’s victory at the harbor over Lysander. The Slayers here began to notice an unusual amount of activity in this area, which seemed odd.”

Malachi nodded. “That is strange. Too difficult for them to remain undercover.”

Dante sighed. “I’ll admit that’s what led to my fears about my family. We’re as remote as it gets up in the Cascades.”

He glanced around as if checking to see that they weren’t being spied on. “I only found out about Cassiel and Ronan when I arrived. Several other top warriors were brought in from other lairs as well.”

“Is the kidnapped Nephilim mated?”

His stomach roiled at the thought that he could be pregnant or being tortured.

If only the war could be ended and the enemy banished back to hell.

It would certainly get Lucifer off their backs.

Having to continuously run into that asshole on the Earth plane during strategy sessions grated on his nerves.

He wished he had Michael’s ability to look past the fallen angel’s treachery, despite their ultimate goal being the same.

Dante shook his head. “No. All I got from the brief conversation with Michael before he called you in was that there’s an outrageous demand from the rogues for the safe return of Danny.”

Malachi sighed. “Damn. I guess we’d better get inside then. Am I the last to arrive?”

As if in answer to his question, Ezekiel touched down next to them, quickly shifting to his human form. “Well, what do we have here? The elusive Dante gracing us with his presence?”

Ezekiel clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. “How’s home life treating you?”

Dante’s eyes darted in Mal’s direction before he answered Ezekiel. “Couldn’t be better. They’re here, as a matter of fact.”

Ezekiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Wow, that’s terrific. I’d love to visit with little Chara.”

He grinned. “I haven’t seen that cutie since I delivered her and you snatched her from my arms.”

“There was no snatching,”

Dante growled. “Just excitement over meeting my daughter, that’s all.”

Ezekiel barked out a laugh. “Don’t get your gargoyle undies in a twist.”

Dante frowned. “Who says I’m wearing undies?”

“Hello!”

Michael yelled from the open French doors off the large patio. “Are you goofballs planning on joining us this evening?”

“I’ll show him a goofball,”

mumbled Dante.

“Of course,”

answered the ever-cordial Ezekiel while simultaneously elbowing Dante. “I just landed, so I’m afraid I held everything up while greeting them.”

Even from ten feet away, Michael’s eyeroll was obvious. “Don’t defend them, Ezekiel. They’ve been standing out here gabbing for at least ten minutes. Let’s go!”

Ten minutes compared to the millennia since they’d been created was barely a blip on the radar. Time could be difficult for him to gauge because of that.

They silently followed Michael inside, the archangel waiting for them to all cross the threshold before replacing the glowing light barrier around the stately home. Once they reached the expansive dining room, Malachi noted that at least a couple of dozen fellow Slayers were in attendance. Most he knew, but there seemed to be some newer recruits mixed in. Of those, Ronen was the only one he’d met before. With a measure of relief, it appeared Lucifer wouldn’t be joining them. He wasn’t in the mood.

He’d never been inside the residence that was reserved for special ceremonies and important meetings. The walls were covered in antique tapestries woven with symbols of protection. The dining table, which could easily seat fifty, gleamed with polished mahogany. Despite the grandeur, there was a heavy sense of urgency in the air.

Malachi spotted Cassiel and Ronen at the other end of the room. When Cass turned his way, he gave her a nod of acknowledgement that she returned.

“Now that we're all here,”

Michael began, his authoritative voice commanding immediate attention, “let’s get down to business.”

The archangel’s form gleamed slightly, his human guise barely containing the celestial energy beneath. He paced at the head of the table, hands clasped behind his back.

“Danny Rutherford was taken approximately six hours ago from the streets of downtown Aspen. What only I and the other archangels know is that he’s a Nephilim of great importance, and one who is completely unaware of his majestic ancestry.”

Malachi straightened in his chair. A thrum of energy vibrated beneath his skin, a sensation he’d never encountered before. Michael’s icy blue eyes locked on his as if he’d felt it as well.

“Malachi, have you or any in your lair felt the increased presence of shadow in your territory?”

Everyone turned his way, and he was filled with a measure of shame. As one of the sentinels of the Rockies lair, he should’ve been aware of a change in the fabric of the etheric plane.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been vigilant enough.”

He hung his head, unable to bear the weight of his shame. He’d always prided himself on how steadfast he was. That was the main reason he’d been chosen as a sentinel. “If I need to be reassigned, I accept whatever you decide.”

“Malachi, look at me.”

He lifted his head, meeting Michael’s gaze. To his surprise, compassion was etched on Michael’s features, something he’d rarely witnessed from the stoic archangel.

“I only ask because every lair from the western edge of the Rockies to the coast sensed nothing. No blame falls on you for that.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re a prized sentinel. Never doubt that.”

“Yet it was so clear to us in the East,”

Cassiel interjected. “What could’ve caused that?”

Michael’s features darkened. “They clearly had outside help, a being more capable of dark magic.”

“But why this Danny Rutherford?”

Malachi asked. “What makes him valuable enough for a kidnapping? After all, there have been other Nephilim with an impressive lineage.”

Cassiel snorted. “Right? I get that most of the half-angels come from too much earthly partying, but there’ve still been several that weren’t.”

Michael's expression grew more solemn. “Danny Rutherford is no ordinary high-level Nephilim. His lineage traces directly back to one of the most powerful angels, one with a special connection to humanity.”

He cleared his throat. “Present company included.”

He paused, then took a deep breath before continuing. “Danny is the last of his bloodline.”

A collective murmur rippled through the room. Malachi exchanged glances with Dante, who seemed equally unsettled.

“The ransom demand is extreme,”

Michael continued. “They’re ordering us to hand over the Holy Grail.”

Gasps echoed around the table. The Holy Grail was one of the top three most significant relics. The other two were the Ark of the Covenant, containing the Ten Commandments, and the scrolls of Mary Magdalene’s Gospel, written by her personally. Those items had been in angelic possession for millennia. The rogues would no longer need three relics to plunge the world into darkness. One of the Significants would be all it would take.

“That’s ridiculous,”

Dante huffed. “They honestly believe we’d hand them ultimate victory on a silver platter? That we’ll sacrifice humanity and the earthly realm for one Nephilim?”

Unexpected rage coursed through Malachi at Dante’s words. He curled his fingers into fists, gritting his teeth as heat built under his skin.

“Hey. Mal.”

Ezekiel regarded him with concern. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,”

he growled, startled at his enraged tone. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When he opened them again, everyone’s gaze was fixed on him. Somehow, he kept managing to be the center of attention, a state that wasn’t familiar to him. “Sorry.”

He laughed shakily. “Not sure where that came from.”

Ezekiel patted his shoulder. “No worries, man. Just making sure you’re okay. I always carry a lavender oil tincture with me in case anyone needs to chill. These are stressful times.”

Michael’s eyes were narrowed as he considered him, and Malachi felt as though the archangel was seeing into his soul. Michael had a tendency to do that, but it was always unnerving. After another beat, he regarded Dante.

“Obviously, we won’t be negotiating with them, and we certainly won’t be handing over the Grail.”

Michael rubbed his chin. “This is what I believe. We’ve already lost at least one Shadow Slayer to the rogue demons when Lysander switched allegiances. And like him, they’re likely newly turned, so they’ll still appear to be like a typical Slayer.”

They all exchanged glances, undoubtedly wondering the same thing as Malachi. Was the traitor standing in the room with them?

Ronen held up a finger tentatively. “Excuse me, but what evidence do we have that a Slayer has turned?”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “The kidnapping itself. The precision of it. And the fact that Danny was taken without triggering the guardians who protect the unawakened Nephilim.”

Cassiel nodded. “Right. Only a Shadow Slayer would know how to circumvent those protections.”

Malachi felt another surge of that strange heat in his blood. The thought of Danny—this unknown Nephilim—in the hands of shadow gargoyles made his chest constrict painfully.

“So what's the plan?”

Ezekiel said. “We can't give them the Grail, but we can't abandon Danny, either.”

“The plan is basic.”

Michael gazed around the room. “Find Danny and rescue him before the rogues realize we have no intention of delivering the Grail.”

Dante snorted. “Basic is an understatement.”

Michael shot Dante a glare. “Don’t you have a mate and children to attend to?”

Dante glared back, but kept his mouth shut for once.

Ronen cleared his throat. “I know I’m still considered a rookie, but do we have any idea where he is? And won’t they assume we’re going to come after them?”

Michael sighed. “Yes, one would think. Fortunately, their greed and thirst for power do an excellent job of clouding their judgment. The haste with which they contacted us tells me they’re still in the area. I’m sure they’ll have him carefully concealed, but not being the brightest stars in the heavens, they should also be easy enough for you to locate.”

“Even with a Slayer helping them?”

Michael see-sawed his hand. “Maybe. But again, I refer you to greed and thirst for power. Gets them every time.”

Malachi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The strange energy coursing through him was becoming harder to ignore. It felt like recognition, like a pull toward something previously unknown to him.

“I want to lead the rescue mission.”

He blinked several times, surprising himself with the declaration. Not that he ever shied away from confrontation, but that he should be the one to lead the mission possessed an urgency he was unfamiliar with.

Michael nodded slowly. “I was hoping you’d say that. You’ll take Cassiel, Ronen, and four more volunteers, with the exception of Ezekiel and Dante. We’ll need a healer, and Dante can help watch over the estate with the remaining Slayers.”

Once the assignments had been finalized, Michael produced a small leather pouch and removed a gleaming blue crystal, placing it on the table. “This is attuned to Danny's energy signature. The closer you get to him, the brighter it will glow."

Malachi reached for the crystal, and the moment his fingers touched it, a jolt of electricity shot through his body. The crystal flared with blinding light before settling into a steady pulse.

One corner of Michael’s mouth quirked. “I’ve clearly chosen the right Slayer to lead the charge.”

He addressed the remaining gargoyles. “You’ll leave within the hour. A cache of weapons is located in the wine cellar. Take whatever you need to supplement what you already have. They were blessed by me before you arrived.

As the meeting dispersed, Malachi clutched the crystal, unable to move from his chair or return the stone to the pouch.

“You're feeling it, aren’t you?”

Michael gazed down at him with a knowing smile. Although when Michael smiled, it was more of a ‘ha ha, got you’ than one of warmth.

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

Mal pressed his palm against his chest where the sensation was strongest. “It started when you mentioned Danny’s name.”

Michael’s expression softened. “I suspected as much.”

“What does it mean?”

Malachi swallowed hard, the meaning behind the sensation beginning to dawn on him. However, that didn’t explain why he would know such a thing before touching him, which is how a Fated Mate was typically revealed.

Michael placed a hand on Malachi’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out. Danny Rutherford is your Fated One.”

“But that's impossible.”

Mal shifted from foot to foot. “I've never met him. I’ve never even seen him. Not only that, but I’m still quite a few kills shy of my quota. How can he possibly be revealed to me now?”

“Some connections transcend the physical, defy rules.”

Michael’s expression darkened. “Especially when one half of the bond is so powerful and in danger. The Divine has ways of accelerating what needs to happen.”

Malachi stared at the pulsing crystal in his palm. It felt warm, alive. Like it contained a fragment of Danny’s essence. His Danny. The thought sent another wave of possessive heat through his veins.

He squeezed the stone, pressing his lips together as determination surged through him.

“Then I’ll see that he’s rescued, kept safe. Nothing will get in my way.”