The casual way he discussed murdering Charles made something cold and vicious unfurl in my chest. When Ispoke again, my voice carried three centuries of barely contained violence. “Carlo, you miserable piece of shite, here’s a counter-offer: you and your boys fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of, and maybe I’ll let you live long enough to see a courtroom.”
The silence that followed was different—colder, more dangerous. When Carlo spoke again, all pretense of civility was gone. “Kill them both.”
The assault began immediately. Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness as they opened fire from multiple positions, bullets shattering windows and punching through the cabin’s log walls.
The wounded guy still had to be behind one of the cars because he never showed. That left five for me to deal with. I dropped low, returning fire through the broken front window while trying to track their movements.
They were good—coordinated, professional, using covering fire and movement like they’d done this before. But I was better. Three centuries better. Every shot I fired found its mark, though their Kevlar vests kept them in the fight longer than I’d have liked.
One of the guys hid behind the stack of firewood, only popping up to fire at me and then quickly ducking again. His mistake? He was doing it in set intervals. Five seconds. He’d stand up, shoot, then duck back down and wait five seconds before repeating it. So the next time he ducked, I counted with him, ready when he rose. My bullet hit him straight through the head. He never even made a sound as he crumpled.
Four left.
Glass exploded inward as they focused their fire on the windows, trying to clear shooting lines into the cabin. I moved constantly, using the furniture for cover whilepicking my shots carefully. My ammunition was limited, and they seemed to have brought enough firepower to level a small building.
A flash-bang grenade rolled through the shattered living room window, and I barely had time to shield my eyes before it detonated. Even with supernatural resilience, the blast left me disoriented, my ears ringing and my vision blurred.
That was when they made their move.
The front door exploded inward, and two guys came through the opening while Carlo and the other man entered through the kitchen window. I emptied my clip into the first man through the door, watching him spin and fall, but that left three, who kept firing at me. I retreated down the hallway, firing as I went, trying to buy time I didn’t have.
With one last shot, I hit the front guy in the kneecap, and he went down with a howl, but I had nowhere to go, and two guys left to deal with. The bedroom door was solid wood, but it wouldn’t stop bullets for long.
“Open up!” I called out, and Charles unlocked the door for me. I slammed it shut and threw the lock, knowing it was a pathetic barrier against what was coming. I could’ve tried to lead them to the second bedroom, but if they split up, one could go after Charles. No, I’d make my last stand here, and I would die defending him. My love. My life.
Charles was pale and tight with terror, but his jaw was set with determination. When he looked at me, his eyes held trust that I didn’t deserve—trust that I would somehow pull off another miracle, save us both through superior skill or clever tactics.
But I was out of miracles. Out of bullets. Out of conventional options.
The dresser. That would hold them back for a whilelonger. But when I reached for it, Charles shook his head. “It’s falling apart. I tried to move it, position it next to the door, but the whole back came off.”
Fuck.
I frantically looked around the room, but there was nothing else. The bed was far too heavy to move, the wooden chair wouldn’t make a difference, and we had no other options.
Something heavy slammed into the bedroom door. The frame shook, wood splintering around the lock. Another impact, and I heard the distinctive crack of breaking timber.
“Eamon,” Charles whispered, and the fear in his voice nearly broke my heart.
The door burst inward in an explosion of wood fragments and twisted metal. Carlo and his remaining man burst into the room, weapons trained on us. I fired, but the gun clicked. I was out of bullets, out of options, out of time.
For a second, we stared at each other across a few feet of space that might as well have been an ocean. Carlo smiled, cold and satisfied, the expression of a predator that had finally cornered its prey, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
“Charles Garrity,” he said conversationally, like we were meeting at a dinner party instead of the scene of an imminent execution. “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble.”
I stepped in front of Charles, shielding him with my body even though I knew it was useless against multiple gunmen. But Charles deserved better than to die looking into the face of his killer. If these were our last moments, at least I could give him that much.
“Any last words, Detective?” Carlo asked, raising his pistol.
I had plenty of words. Three centuries’ worth of rageand protective fury and desperate love for the man behind me. But there was only one thing that mattered now, only one choice left to make.
It was forbidden, the one thing we were never allowed to do, no matter the circumstances. That had been drilled into me from the very first moment I became a guardian. But I had no other choice. I wasn’t going to let Charles die.
So I took a deep breath and set myself free, letting my true nature surge forth. Light blazed from my skin, brilliant and all-consuming, filling the small room with radiance that had nothing to do with electricity or fire. The temperature spiked as celestial energy coursed through me, and my human disguise burned away like tissue paper in a furnace.
Carlo and his companion stumbled backward, their weapons forgotten as they stared at something their minds couldn’t process. Because I wasn’t human anymore. I wasn’t the rough-edged detective they’d been hunting or the mysterious boyfriend who’d been protecting their target. I was a guardian angel, forged in divine fire and tasked with protecting the innocent.
Massive wings unfurled from my shoulders—not the soft, white feathers of greeting card angels, but something far more primal and powerful. They were dark as midnight and shot through with veins of silver light, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. When I spread them wide, they filled the room, creating a living barrier between Charles and the men who would kill him.
