Page 26

RAGNAR

Orion was pissing me off and I was seconds away from snapping.

The bastard was supposed to help interrogate the daema, but no. Instead, he’d spent the last ten minutes flitting around the church like he didn’t have a care in the world, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“She’s growing on you, isn’t she?” Orion’s voice carried over from where he was casually leaning against a crumbling pillar, his arms crossed and that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

I didn’t bother answering. What could I say? That I’d been thinking of the woman I’d lost more often lately, and every time I looked at Eve, I was reminded of a future I could no longer have? It was irrational, but the two things couldn’t be a coincidence. I didn’t believe in those anymore.

“Oh, come on,” he pressed, straightening and walking toward me with a swagger that set my teeth on edge. “We all saw the way you sparred with her. And don’t give me that broody shit—you’ve got a soft spot, even if you pretend you don’t.”

“Will you fucking drop it?” I growled, flexing my fingers to dissipate the heat before I actually melted something important.

Orion didn’t flinch.

“You’re always this cranky when you’re hiding something. Xander thinks it might have something to do with you-know-who—”

“Fucking Xander.”

“—and I happen to agree,” he continued. “You’ve been more wound up than usual since she showed up. Admit it.”

His words weren’t teasing anymore. They were calculated—like he was trying to see how far he could push before I cracked open and let slip something I couldn’t take back.

I clenched my fists, the molten glow creeping back into my skin as I forced out a deliberate, steadying breath. “Say one more word and I swear to every fucking god, I will end you.”

Orion held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it,” he said, his boots scraping over old stones. “For now.”

He glanced at the daema hanging limply from the chains strung above the arches, his head slumped forward, blood dripping steadily from the gashes in his burnt skin and the tattered remains of his wings. Those had been particularly easy to tear.

“Looks like you got some of that rage out of your system at least,” Orion said, crouching beside the creature. “Think you left enough of him to talk?”

The sharp crack of my knuckles was the only answer he got.

“Alrighty then, let’s wake him up,” he said, slapping the harpy’s face hard enough to make his head loll to one side. When he didn’t stir, he slapped him again, harder this time.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart.”

After the third slap, the creature groaned weakly, his head lifting just enough for us to see the flicker of fear in his pitch-black eyes.

The daema hissed, his voice a guttural rasp. “You… Titans… think you’re so clever.”

“Never said clever, just effective,” I said.

“Now, why don’t you tell us why there are six of you cockroaches hiding out here? That’s a bit of a crowd, even for your kind.”

When the creature didn’t answer, I raised my hand back to the chains, sending a heavy dose of my magic into heating the metal again.

The daema’s body jerked violently, its grotesque features twisting as it fought against the molten chains. The glow seeping from the links lit up its jagged face, casting deep shadows in the hollows of its sunken eyes.

“I’ll ask you again,” Orion said, his voice sharper now. “Why so many? When did you all start making friendship bracelets together and braiding each other’s hair?”

The creature sneered, black ichor dripping from his mouth as he let out a broken laugh. “You think six of us is something? You think this is the worst we’ve got? This is nothing compared to his plans.”

“Not an answer,” I said flatly, letting a pulse of heat travel through the chains.

The daema shrieked, his body convulsing. The sound echoed through the empty church like a symphony.

Orion tilted his head like he was mocking the creature. “You know, I’ve always found your kind fascinating. So confident, so smug. Right up until the moment you start begging.”

The daema spat at his feet, snarling. “You should have died the day the gates were sealed. You’re already dead. Both of you. His plan is bigger than all of us!”

Orion glanced up at me. “That’s new. Apparently, we’ve already been killed. Thoughts?”

“Keep talking,” I growled, tightening the chains again. The creature’s scream cut off my brother’s next smart-ass remark.

When his shrieks finally subsided into ragged gasps, the daema glared at us, defiance flickering in his eyes. “We’re just the start. The King’s plan is finally in motion; we’ve waited long enough. And when he rises on earth, you’ll wish you’d died today at my hands.”

I froze. My stomach tightened, the words sending a cold shock through me. I glanced at Orion, but his expression didn’t change.

“The King, huh?” he said lightly. “Funny. I was under the impression that he was stuck on Titan, and you were stuck here with us. Go figure.”

The daema’s laughter came low and bitter, rasping like stones grinding together. “You stupid fools! He knows it’s here on earth, and when we find it, his power will reign once more.”

“What’s on earth?” I snapped, stepping closer. My heart was already screaming the answer. I just needed him to be wrong. Needed it to be something else. Anything else.

The daema’s eyes gleamed, something feral and cruel flashing across his face.

“The key. The spark. The Phoenix bitch .”

The words detonated in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the sudden image of her face—those eyes, that fire—and what it would mean if he was right.

Orion’s expression hardened. “The last Phoenix died. She burned out on Titan.”

The demon’s grin widened, blood staining his teeth.

“You think her magic is gone? You think you’re safe?

Oh, how I can’t wait to see the reckoning when she returns to us.

The fire is here. We can feel it. He can feel it.

We’ve waited the 25 years he told us to, but now the time has come to reopen the gates. ”

I felt my temper spike, heat rising in my chest. He was wrong. She had died the day she sealed the Divide. I’d searched for a way back to her, to prove to myself, more than them, that our worst fears were wrong.

“ You’re lying .”

“Am I?” The daema hissed, leaning forward as much as the chains would allow. “Why do you think he’s gathering us? Why do you think we’re hunting ?”

Every word out of his mouth felt like a claw dragging across my nerves, fraying what little control I had left.

“And we will find her,” it hissed. “For the fire that will bring him back. You’re too late, Titans. The Phoenix will be his.”

My magic flared without warning, the heat pulsing through the chains as the room filled with the searing hiss of burning flesh. The daema screamed, its body convulsing violently against its bindings.

The creature let out one final, guttural scream before its body went limp, the last of its life snuffed out by my magic.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I couldn’t move. Not because I regretted it—because I didn’t.

But because now the only thing louder than the silence was the voice in my head screaming, what if he was right?