Page 40 of Queens

Lust is ruled out because they’re weak as fuck, and Envy generally keeps a low profile. It had to have been a Wrath or a Greed. A Greed I can stomach, but if aWrathstole my kill…

I’ll kill them.

“It happened this morning?” I ask, needing to clarify. “How did you find out?”

Jassy nods. “It was announced several hours ago.”

I spin on my heel and storm out of the room. I’m sure Aziel’s already in his office, and I clench and unclench my fists as I head in that direction. I’m going to kill him, and I imagine all the ways I could do it as I close the distance between us.

Why didn’t he come to me the second he heard? I should’ve been one of the first people he came to. Besides the fact that I’m his fucking daughter, I’m in line to be the next ruler of Wrath.I should be kept up to date on everything pertinent happening within the demon kingdoms.

It’s impossible to hold back my anger as I stomp through the bustling corridors. Aziel’s wing is filled with nearly the same energy mine was, and I force myself to give his two assistants a polite nod before pushing open his office door.

The room is full. One of Wrath’s top generals, Raum, is standing along the right wall. His arms are covered in black tattoos, and his biceps bulge as he crosses them over his chest. Raum is fucking huge, and not in an attractive way. He’s terrifying, and I do my best to avoid him. His black eyes dart in my direction before returning to Aziel.

Two advisors are sitting in the chairs across Aziel’s desk, their posture stiff and hands clasped politely in their laps.

Gray and Silas are actively pacing the length of the room.

I shove open the door, letting it slam against the wall.

“What the fuck?” I’m across the room in a heartbeat, not caring how out-of-control I appear. Let Raum and the advisors see my rage. I don’t care. “What do you think—”

Aziel lifts a hand, stopping me in my tracks. I bite my tongue so hard, it bleeds.

“Give us a minute,” he says to Raum and the advisors.

The room is cleared within seconds. Raum teleports away, and the advisors scurry out the door I just stormed through. They give me a wide berth, too, which is probably for the best. I’m known to lash out when I’m angry.

I wait until they’re gone before speaking. “Why wasn’t I informed?” I don’t bother clarifying. Aziel knows what I’m talking about. He’d be a fool not to, and he’s no fool. “You should have come to meimmediately, or at least sent one of your assistants to do it.”

“Why is that?” Aziel cocks his head to the side. “You haven’t shown the least bit of interest in Wrath. You arrive at work lateand leave early, and I’ve heard you’re canceling almost half your meetings.”

“Are you monitoring me?”

There’s no reason he has that information, and I wonder which of my employees has disclosed it to him. It’s probably Jassy. She knows everything, and she would never lie to my father.

Aziel nods. “Yes. Of course I am.”

I clench and unclench my fists, then stare at the wall behind Aziel. It’s a muted, light brown, and there’s a small dent in the plaster directly beside his head. It’s from me.

We were fighting, and I threw a pair of scissors at him. He threw them back, the first time he’d ever done that, and they lodged into my right thigh. The physical scar is long gone, but the mental one remains. That was the last time I threw a sharp object at him.

“It wasn’t intentional.” Aziel sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Cassia. I wasn’t anticipating you arriving at work for another hour. I planned to go to your apartment after my meeting.”

I don’t believe him. He’s lying to make me feel better. I’ve seen him do it countless times to others, and I won’t fall for it. I purse my lips, staring him down. Silas and Gray are lingering in my peripheral vision, but I’m not giving them the time of day. This doesn’t involve them.

“Who did it?” I ask. “Who killed Mammon?”

Aziel’s eyes dart toward Silas, and the tension in the room ratchets up several notches. For the first time in weeks, I give Silas my full attention. He’s looking back at Aziel, his shoulders squared and jaw firm.

“What is it?” I ask.

Silas shifts his gaze toward me. “We don’t have confirmation of the perpetrator’s identity.”

“But you have a suspicion?”

Silence.