"We need to move," Brax's deep voice cuts through our moment, all business and worry. He cradles Emily's unconscious form with the careful precision of someone handling precious cargo.
Reality comes crashing back as car horns blare at our roadside drama.Christ, we must look like a rejected scene from some B-grade supernatural rom-com—a jacked demon cradling an unconscious witch, while an honest-to-god angel with wingspan to rival a 747 plays tonsil hockey with yours truly.
"Emily!" Seraphina's hand flies to her mouth, horror replacing relief. "Is she—"
"She's breathing," Brax states, his fire-bright eyes fixed on Emily's pale face. "But we need to get her home. Now."
"Cupcake, as much as I love your beautiful wings, might want to dial down the divine display." I gesture, which is giving passing drivers the light show of their mortal lives.
"Oh!" Seraphina's wings dissolve in a shower of ethereal sparkles, like someone just detonated a heavenly glitter bomb.
Brax carefully maneuvers Emily into the car, his massive form surprisingly gentle. But now I'm faced with the task of dropping a bombshell on Seraphina—a truth I'd rather swallow razor blades than say out loud. She needs to know about Sable, and brace herself for the sight that's about to sucker-punch her in the soul.
"Phina, baby..." I take her hands, steeling myself. "There's something you need to know."
"What? What isit?" Her worry slams into me through our bond like a raging torrent of dread.
"It's Sable..."
"Sable? Where is she?" Seraphina's voice quivers, her eyes desperately searching mine for an answer I'd rather chew off my own arm than give.
Fuck.The words lodge in my throat. "She... uh..."
Come on, jackass. Rip off the Band-Aid. She deserves to know.
But my face must be a neon sign of bad news because Seraphina's hand flies to her mouth, a sharp gasp tearing from her lungs.
I guide her around to the backseat with the careful movements of someone handling a live grenade. When I open the door, revealing Sable's lifeless form, Seraphina's anguish explodes through our bond like a supernova. Her knees buckle, and I barely catch her as she collapses against me, her sobs ripping through the night air.
"No... no, no,no...Sable..." Her shaking hand reaches out, hovering over Sable's still features. "How?Howdid this happen?"
Each word is a knife in my gut, twisting deeper with every hitched breath and broken cry. I hold her tighter, trying to absorb her grief, but it's like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a paper cup.
Because the universe is a cold, cruel bitch, that's how.
But I can't say that. Not when my angel's heart is shattering in front of me. So I just pull her close, letting her tears soak my shirt as I try to hold us both together.
"I know, I know, I know, sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry..." The words rip from my throat like they're made of barbed wire as Seraphina fractures in my arms, her grief pouring out in waves that could drown us both. Each sob punches through our bond like a fucking sledgehammer—watching my angel grieve for the pink-haired witch who'd somehow wormed her way into all our hearts.
Fuck, Sable. You deserved better than this.
The living room of my mansion becomes a makeshift triage center. Sable's body lies in the center, still as marble, while Brax gently places Emily on the couch. He doesn't leave her side, and those hellfire eyes never waver from her face.
Seraphina trembles in my lap, her tears soaking through my shirt. Each sob feels like a sharp stab of grief, but what can I say?Sorry your friend died?
The drive home was bad enough, watching her shatter piece by piece as I explained everything.
The scene before me is so fucking surreal—a demon dabbing Emily's blood-streaked face with a wet cloth like some infernal Florence Nightingale. Never thought I'd see the day when a creature from the pits of hell would look at anyone with such... tenderness.
The silence weighs heavy as a gravestone while we process this clusterfuck of a night. Seraphina finally cries herself to sleep against my chest, her fingers still clutching my shirt like an anchor. The white sheet over Sable's body feels like an accusation.
Emily stirs after awhile, her eyes fluttering open. Brax tenses like a guard dog coming alert."Are you okay, Mistress?" His gravelly voice softens to something almost gentle.
She groans, pressing a hand to her temple. "Yeah... just overdid it. Magical tank's running on empty."
Understatement of the fucking century, Em.
Emily's gaze locks onto the sheet-covered form, her throat working against a sob. She presses her palms against her eyes, but when they drop, there's steel beneath the tears. She pushes to her feet with grim determination.
