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Chapter

Twenty-Four

GLUTTONY

I ’d seen death before.

Hell, I’d dealt it out with flair. Watched blood run like spilled wine and heard the wet snap of necks under my hands. But this—this wasn’t death. It was vengeance.

Wrath.

The moment Wrath—Juniper—had punched through his chest and ribs with the ease of punching through paper, a peace I hadn’t known in centuries had settled over me.

Now, she lay in the center of my drawing room, her hand still clutching the wet, limp organ as she dripped blood onto my carpet.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t care.

We all sat, unsure of what to do now. Her awakening had been like riding a wave of energy so dense that even Envy looked rattled. Damon, smart bastard that he was, had absorbed the brunt and shunted us through shadows before Juniper could level a city block.

“Good kitty,” I said to him, giving him a good scratch behind his ears.

His purr was akin to the hum of a diesel engine.

The others spoke in hushed tones behind me. I didn’t care.

All I could see was her. Sprawled across my favorite arm chair, her chest rising slow and steady.

Her hair fanned around her like a brown halo.

There was blood all over, but none of it hers.

It was Xavier’s; the last of him. She’d bitten through a scream so sharp it had shattered the air and drawn divine attention. I was sure of it.

“She’s still burning,” Pride murmured, crouched near her, hand hovering above her shoulder. “But it’s more...controlled now.”

“Controlled?” I scoffed. “We will have to work on her control.”

Wrath stirred.

Not gently, not like a woman waking from sleep. Her body jerked upright, like a marionette yanked on taut strings, and I swear the temperature dropped ten degrees. Her eyes were molten gold now—pure, wrathful energy. No flicker of brown. No soft confusion.

“I killed him,” she said. No regret. No apology.

I exhaled slowly. “Yes. You did.”

“I felt it. The moment he died, the bond broke. Whatever strings he had left in this world—they snapped. My name is Juniper Grey, but I am also Wrath.”

Pride rose to his feet beside her, eyes unreadable. “Do you remember everything?”

“I remember being Hazel,” she admitted. “I remember dying. I remember all the little ways I tried to survive. And I remember every damn moment you all pulled me back. I remember me.”

She turned to look at me.

I didn’t flinch—but only because I’m really fucking good at hiding fear.

“Thank you,” she said, voice oddly gentle. “You brought me home.”

A lump rose in my throat I didn’t ask for.

“Well, Damon did.” I muttered, trying for levity. “We’ll have to replace the carpet.” I eyed the blood still dripping from her fingers.

She frowned as she glanced down at her hand, and Xavier’s heart fell to the carpet with a wet, muffling plop.

“Dibs on picking the color,” Lust added, arms crossed, eyes still locked on her like he wasn’t sure whether to kiss her or kneel before her.

Outside, the sky answered her with a crack of unnatural thunder. What did it mean? One thing was clear: we weren’t facing it alone anymore.

“Oh hello! Did I miss something?”

We all jerked at the interruption, as Diana strode in through the French doors with nary a care in the world.

To make matters even more confusing, Sloth followed behind her with a child on his hip.

I hated guests.

They touched things. They breathed too loud. They filled the air with noise and energy that disrupted the delicate balance I’d curated over centuries. And though I had agreed to house Juniper, the fae child was a new complication.

It was all a major inconvenience.

And yet...the house was full. It filled me with strange feelings and emotions.

I turned back to Juniper. She stood in the entrance hall like someone expecting to be punished. Good. I didn’t trust people who adjusted too quickly, after all. Perhaps she was learning.

“Oh my goodness! Who are you?”

Wrath leaped up from her chair with renewed vigor, arms out and face bright as the sun. The heart lay on the floor, forgotten. Envy shot me a look and kicked it into the fireplace with his foot.

“This is Kiva,” Sloth began, not looking any of us in the eye. “I found her trapped in the gatehouse; she was running from poachers.”

My heart fluttered, even as Wrath went to her knees before the fae child, visibly containing herself from wrapping her in a hug.

“You poor dear! Are you alright? Do you want a hug?”

The fae child’s–Kiva’s–bright amethyst eyes watered and widened for a split second before she vaulted herself into Wrath’s arms.

“You’re warm now,” Kiva said, voice soft. “Not scary. You were scary before.”

Juniper smiled at her—slow and sad and radiant. “I know. I didn’t mean to be.”

Kiva leaned into her, unfazed. “You smell like lightning.”

“She smells like justice,” Pride corrected, though his voice was low. Reverent.

I leaned against the doorframe, folding my arms. “So. Are we going to talk about what this means?”

“She’s Wrath,” Envy said. “It means war’s inevitable.”

“No,” Juniper said. “It means I’m ready for it.”

Magick swirled and thickened in the air, but it was calm. Sated.

“The bad men hurt mommy and daddy!” Kiva wailed. “They kept me in a cage and didn’t give me food! I’m–I’m so hungry!”

Kiva dissolved into wails as she crumpled into Wrath’s arms, which folded tightly around her.

Her sin burned and glowed, lighting her skin.

Greed grinned like Christmas had come early.

“No–” I began.

“She needs an outlet for the new magick,” Pride said succinctly. “Damon can’t take all of it. And who knows how long he’ll stick around.”

We all shot a look to the large shadowdemon cat, who was purring madly while rubbing himself up against Kiva and Wrath’s sides. The sobbing fae child reached out an arm and buried it into his fur.

“Questionable loyalties,” Lust huffed.

Diana clapped her hands.

“How wonderful! I’m sure Hades will return now. It’s been ages since all of the Sins have found each other. Perhaps a party–”

“I suppose you’ll be staying?” I cut off Diana, tone deliberately flat.

She startled slightly.

“Anywhere is fine,” she answered breezily. “Of course you’ll need help adjusting, all of you. Oh, look at you! Aren’t you a darling?” She floated over to the fae child, instantly taken by her.

I narrowed my eyes. People only acted that way when they were hiding something. Then again, Clio had been perfectly agreeable as well. At first.

“Fine,” I said. “You all have your normal wings. Juniper gets the central suite.”

Pride bristled. Lust raised an eyebrow. Juniper said nothing, just gripped her bag tighter.

I waited for someone to complain, but no one did.

I didn’t care who was canoodling with who; their assignments were nothing more than a strategic placement.

None of them would admit it, but even they recognized the sense.

Keep them separated or we’d have another east wing incident on our hands—and this time there wasn’t a spare wing left to lose.

Wrath’s magick continued to burn.

“Let’s get her food,” she said–no, commanded–us.

“Can we eat outside?” Kiva asked tentatively.

Diana stroked Kiva’s purple-tinged hair out of her eyes. “Of course, darling.”

She snapped her fingers at us. At us . Greed and Envy grumbled, Pride huffed, but they stood and got to it.

Goddesses trumped sins, after all.

“If you need anything…” Pride said to her with that infuriating softness in his voice. The kind that made people mistake him for compassionate.

Idiot.

“I will contact the council. They can get in touch with the fae,” Sloth said.

I crossed my arms, forced to follow Wrath, Diana, and Kiva out to the backyard patio.

“Play with me!”

Wrath and Kiva ran out into the grass barefoot, both wild with hair and magick streaming behind them.

“It’ll help redirect and burn off steam for both of them,” Diana said to me, under her breath.

“Wine?” I asked, drifting to the outdoor pantry tucked away against the stone wall of the house. I poured myself something of a darker vintage; a famous historian from the 19th century. Bitter, but filling. She didn’t flinch at my choices; she never did. Not even when I made them obvious.

“You want to tell me why you’re here, breathing my air?” I asked. “Or are we still dancing around the truth with poetic riddles and sidelong glances?”

She studied me in that irritating way of hers, where her eyes peeled away layers of thought you didn’t remember exposing. I was simply wary of a goddess’s constant attention. I wasn’t used to it.

“You know I take her case personally,” she said finally. “It isn’t about you.”

“Obviously,” I mocked.

“Women who have been...preyed upon are special to me. You know that.”

My throat went dry. Diana usually refused to ever speak of...that.

“You of all people should then know she’s safe here,” I bit out, irritated.

I was the one who’d saved her all those years ago. She knew I could be trusted.

She set her glass down with a quiet clink. “I know,” she said quietly. “You know I trust you with everything.”

That shut me up.

“She’s part of this,” Diana continued. “Part of you, part of what’s been missing. That’s why I’ve been sticking my nose in it. I want to ensure she’s safe. You know it. You felt it. The moment she walked in.”

“I felt a headache,” I insisted, shying away from the serious mood.

We both watched Kiva chase after Wrath, her laughter slicing through the air.

“You felt potential,” Diana argued. “She’s not just a pawn, Gluttony. She’s the thread the tapestry keeps circling back to. This is to be celebrated. You do not seem happy.”

I stared into the woods beyond.

“Where the fuck is Hades?” I snarled. He was the only one who would know for sure–or at least, I’d feel better with him back and able to keep a finger on the pulse of things. Yes, we’d finally found Wrath, but there had to be a reason behind it.

“Damon has been showing up here and there. I assume that means Hades will be back soon,” Diana responded.

“Damon saved our asses,” I bit out.

She nodded, taking another sip of wine.

“So we are just supposed to just twiddle our fucking thumbs and hope nothing bad happens until the great and mighty Hades decides to end his vacation?” I snarled.

“We are handling it,” she bit back tersely.

“Are you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her hand shot out so fast I missed it. The hit split my lip and broke my nose. I hissed in pain, the bones already cracking and fusing back together before any blood could drip down onto my shirt.

It was easy to forget she was a goddess, sometimes. And they had more pride and vanity than Pride himself, ten times over. And she could squash me like a bug between her fingers if she wished.

“You’re getting uppity. Go hunt,” she ordered me, all business now.

I rolled my eyes.

“I haven’t hunted in decades. You know that.”

If I truly desired to hunt, all I had to do was ask some silly mortal woman and she’d gladly let me drink from her.

Yes, things are far different now. And it was for the better. It was either that or order a

blood bank from the internet.

Much, much different.

“I wouldn’t be as nervous if Wrath simply returned,” I sighed, frustrated. “Our powers are as incomplete as we are. We need the seventh brother.”

Her smile sharpened. “I wondered when you’d catch on.”

“Oh gods,” I muttered.

“He’s stirring too. I don’t think he’s aware of it yet, but his powers have awakened. I can feel it, similar to when a new god or goddess awakens or is born.”

“Wonderful,” I drawled, but inwardly I reeled. We’d been searching for the final sin for nearly twenty years. Was the wait almost over? I had to tell the others!

And yet...I still wasn’t over his death.

I finished the rest of my drink in one swallow, the fire tracing its way down to settle into my gut like a coil of serpents. I put the glass down.

“I’ll need to reinforce the wards. I–”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Diana cut over me.

I froze. “I don’t know–”

“Wrath burns brightly, but sometimes the flame is too hot and burns everything in its path...including itself.”

I stuffed down all of those emotions rising to the surface.

Don’t feel. Don’t hurt.

“It won’t be like that this time. I vowed to watch over you–all of you. You’re like the brother I never had,” Diana confessed, her voice breaking a little.

My head snapped up to stare at her.

“I–”

She grabbed my hand.

“You have a little family here. I know we’ve gotten on each other’s nerves from time to time, but...I always considered myself a part. And now that Kiva is here–”

“Never said she was staying,” I grumbled, but Diana smirked.

Sloth was obsessed. The rest of us wouldn’t be far behind.

“Prepare for a battle on that front. The fae will want to give her back,” she said.

I funneled that away. That was a problem for future Gluttony. .

“Try to enjoy this odd stroke of domesticity,” she advised and moved to join Wrath and Kiva.