Did he think I’d do it here?
I shoved a Hell Squadron uniform against his chest. “Strip and put it on. It’s a loaner.”
He stumbled back, brows rising.
I crossed my arms and waited for him to overcome his surprise, remove his borrowed clothes, and tug on the stiff leathers.
Go back to the hellion, Rune. Wait outside for my next orders. I—We should be back soon.Hopefully.
Rune padded away, and I gave the pet one last measured look before turning. “Follow me.”
He obeyed without a word. Good. It made it easier to resist when he kept his mouth shut. But I knew I couldn’t let that last.
Stepping outside the castle, my uniform heated.
It was cold again, enough that the snow had stopped melting. Not that it helped much.
The moon highlighted the remaining white patches, contrasting with the dark stretches scattered down the hill. The sight gnawed at me. It meant something. But I wasn’t sure whether it had to do with Lucifer or the gates.
“Is this where you’ll do it?” the pet asked.
“No. Keep up.” I luscelered away.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on the perspective—he did keep up.
My uniform cooled the moment we entered the Eternal Forest. The glowing trees blurred into indistinct blue forms until I stopped in the clearing where Saraqael’s funeral had been held. Feathers, flowers, and other objects still surrounded the funerary dais. Everything remained unchanged except for the snow that should’ve been falling through the hole in the Eternal Forest’s barrier. It also seemed a little dimmer, but that could’ve been a trick of the eye.
I ripped out one Soul Sword and faced the pet. I let my disgust and wrath transform my expression, showing him exactly what I thought of him—of what I wanted to do to him.
Against my shadows’ wishes, I kept an ironclad hold on them and their insidious desires.
The pet took in his surroundings. “I think I’d rather have done it near the castle.”
He didn’t think he deserved to be part of the angels’ honored graveyard. That, or he didn’t want to desecrate the place where we’d held Saraqael’s funeral.
“You don’t really get a choice here.” I raised my blade to his neck.
His skin sizzled in such a satisfying way. My shadows writhed in my mental hold, demanding to be unleashed, to spill his blood. If I sank into them, my blade would already be absorbing his soul.
He closed his eyes.
I thought about it. Really thought about what I was doing here. Whether I could go through with this.
One second passed.
Two.
Gabriel’s words whispered in my mind.
You have a choice, Ronen.
Nostrils flaring, my tongue punching my cheek in resentful consideration, I chucked my sword at his feet. “Pick it up.”
His eyes jerked open. “What?”
I unsheathed my second blade. “Did I stutter? Pick it up.”
He had no idea what my plan was, which I bet was the only reason he listened. He probably thought I didn’t want to kill himwithout a fight.
