Page 29 of Wings of Valor (Silver City University #4)

The door is heavy, but it opens without a sound, and we pile inside.

The scent hits me first, making me gag. Bitter and coppery. Pairs nicely with the blood and dark feathers littered on the floor.

Feathers from a Fallen angel. But that doesn’t mean they’re Zeke’s. It could be anyone who displeased Auriel or the demons. We already know there are Fallen willingly choosing to align themselves with him, so it’s not a far-fetched thought.

A tray of tools sits near the back wall. Kirach kneels to look at the dark object leaning against the frame. It takes me a moment to realize what it is, but when it becomes clearer, I almost puke.

A severed wing. The cartilage is sliced clean, but there are feathers missing in patches all over it. Most likely the ones littered on the floor. Whoever the owner of this wing is, they were tortured first.

“Oh shit,” Darok says. “Is that from your guy?”

I’m going to fucking punch this piece of shit if he doesn’t shut the hell up.

“It might not be his,” Raphael tells Hayliel before tossing a glare Darok’s way.

There’s an unmistakable chill emanating from Kirach, but to my surprise he doesn’t say anything. All he does is strap the amputated wing to his back and stride from the room without a second glance.

Hayliel, Raph, and Mira follow him out, but Castiel and I hang back.

Castiel blocks the door while I lean against the wall.

“Listen, man. I get that you’re on the council and the Archangel’s sent you, but you’ve gotta give a little more thought to your words before you speak them.

The last thing we need is for things to go south because of your inability to read the room. ”

“The Archangels didn’t send me here to make sure your feelings weren’t hurt. They sent me here as an assurance for your well-being.”

Anger boils beneath my skin as I stare at this pompous asshole. We have enough shit on our plates today without him piling it on. Hayliel doesn’t need it, neither does Kirach.

Castiel looks anything but his usual calm and composed self. “Our team had a good enough handle on our well-being when those demons attacked in the hall. So good, in fact, that you just stood by and watched. So if you’re going to stay, do your job and keep fucking silent while you do.”

Fucking A, professor. I stride past Castiel and back out into the hallway, finding the rest of our group a few feet away. Raphael looks at me, and I give him a nod. Hopefully, what we said to that fucker sticks, because next time I won’t use words.

“Can we see the blueprints again?” Hayliel asks as I approach. “We’ve lost a bit of time, so I just want to make sure we don’t lose any more.”

I pull the folded paper from my pocket and hand it to her, watching as she finds our spot, then trails her finger along the path we need to take to arrive at the final room we think they may be holding prisoners. It’s not that the room is far, but it’s on a sublevel we have to get to first.

Castiel arrives as Hayliel folds up the paper and hands it to me.

Then Darok runs to us from the room, seemingly out of breath for such a short distance.

“I’ve just heard from Team A. The explosives in our suits will go off automatically in thirty minutes.

They’ve advised us to place them in every corner and then get the hell out. ”

“Excuse me?” Hayliel asks, her tone as cold as the look Kirach delivers Darok.

“Explosives weren’t part of the plan,” Kirach adds.

“Well, plans change. These are our new orders. Any deviation will be considered treason.”

That motherfuck—

Mira’s fist launches straight into Darok’s face, and he crumples to the floor, unconscious. “Holy shit, that felt good.”

“Everyone, check your suits. I don’t see why he’d lie about this, but we need to know what we’re dealing with,” Kirach says, taking charge.

In hidden pockets of our suits, we find three sets of explosives per angel, all flashing green.

Shit. “Everyone take out your slates and start a timer for twenty-five minutes. It seems we’re on more of a time crunch than we initially planned for.”

Hayliel pinches her brow, clearly frustrated. “I’m sorry, but as great as it would be to blow up their little fucking den, I’m not leaving without doing what I came here for—treason or not. And I don’t give a shit what that fucks up for the Archangels.”

Kirach nods. “I’m in agreement with you.”

“Then we split up.” Castiel steps forward, then taps Mira’s and Raphael’s shoulders. “The three of us will take the explosives and set as many as we can in the time we have left, while you”—he points to Hayliel, Kirach, and myself—“go save our friends.”

I’m a little hurt that he left me off his team, but deep down, I understand why.

With demons around, I’m a liability. And a liability with a bunch of explosives isn’t a great mix.

He needs angels around him he can trust to keep their shit together, and unfortunately, my track record for not falling apart isn’t too great.

“As much as I hate to split up, he’s right,” Raph adds, taking Hayliel’s hand and placing a kiss there.

“Fine, but who’s responsible for the asshole?” Hayliel asks, glancing toward Darok.

“We’ll handle it and find you at the extraction point. Now go get you your man.” Mira shoos us away. She doesn’t need to tell us twice.

We speedwalk down a hallway and around a corner until we find the stairs that lead deeper down into the bunker. Despite our best efforts, they creak as we descend, but with our new deadline, we can’t tiptoe around. There’s no fucking time to slow down.

Bastards.

At the bottom of the stairs is a long corridor.

The room we need to get to is near the end, just before another hallway that will lead to our escape.

But guarding that door is another fucking demon.

What the hell did Auriel offer them? From everything I’ve ever read about demons, they don’t serve anyone but themselves and the demon king, so why are they acting as guard dogs for an Archangel?

The demon spots us quickly, but Hayliel and Kirach are already racing toward the creature with their weapons raised. I step forward, preparing to join the fray, but something distracts me. There, in the corner of my eye, down another passageway, I swear I see him.

The demon that killed Serah.

I blink, and he’s gone.

My field of vision narrows, and everything shifts. I saw him, didn’t I? That wasn’t a figment of my imagination. I have to go after him. He must pay for what he took from me—for what he took from Serah.

“Theo?” someone calls, but I don’t look to see who it is or what they want.

The moment I’ve spent my life training for can be mine if I just go. The fucker can’t have gotten very far. I just saw him.

Theo.

I feel her. My firefly. She pours her love for me down the mental pathway we share, jolting me out of the haze of revenge. Now I have a tough choice to make. Do I go after the demon I’ve wanted to kill since I was just a teen, or stick with the plan?

One serves as vengeance for a dead friend, while the other serves the lives of the living.