Page 112 of The Devil

The organ music grows louder. The circle of men closes in around me, their chants terrible, and I snatch the mask off Callum, my nails breaking skin.

His eyes grow furious, and I ready myself for retaliation. He raises his hand to strike me but before he does, the chapel doors crash open, the sudden burst of wind blowing out at least half the candles in the place.

A dog hurls itself inside slipping on the stone floor, stopping, growling.

And behind her, filling the doorway, is a form tall and dark and impossible.

Impossible because he’s dead. Because they killed him.

Lightning crashes behind him, illuminating him. His clothes are soaked, he’s holding a gun in one hand, a bloody hunting knife in another.

My warrior husband.

My furious, raging Devil.

And when he raises his head to look at me and forest green eyes collide with mine, the world stops.

Because it’s him. He’s real. He’s here. Jet’s alive and he’s come for me.

40

JET

The rain is a godsend. A blessing. Finally. Fucking finally. That and the organ’s eerie, funeral notes mask the sounds of our attack as we take the soldiers standing just outside.

Candlelight spills through the slits of windows. It continues even as the last of the soldiers lies dead at our feet.

Cassian and Sev assess, taking a minute to form a plan.

Me?

I can’t.

Because all I need to know is that she’s in there with them. At their mercy.

I crash through the door, Cotton growling. Waiting for my order. I take in this strange scene from a fucking horror movie.

Masked men, a dozen of them. Maybe more. Soldiers everywhere. I don’t count them. Because I see her. In the midst of the chaos, I see her.

Amal kneeling in the middle of them chained to the floor.

She’s wearing that terrible dress. It’s filthy now drenched from the storm and splattered with mud. Blood smears her face, her neck, her hands.

They’ve hurt her. They’ve chained her and they’ve hurt her.

But when her eyes find mine, the world stops, the chaos around me in a freeze frame. Her mouth falls open like she can’t believe it.

“Jet!” Sev calls out in time for me to duck out of the way of the dagger hurled at me.

Cotton charges into the circle. Cloaks and masks are thrown off, weapons revealed, some pulling swords out of canes, some firepower.

The sound of bullets ricochets off the walls. There’s nothing to duck behind, nowhere to take cover as soldiers attack.

I move, stalking toward the center of the room, bullets flying around me, gun in one hand, hunting knife in the other. I slash one man’s throat. A bullet grazes my arm. I jerk with the hit and shoot the soldier aiming his weapon at my chest and all the while I’m moving toward her. Eating the space between us, desperate to get to her.

The man at Amal’s side produces a dagger. I take aim as he brings it to her throat but before I fire, Cottom slams into his chest hard enough to send him sprawling backward, his skull making a satisfying crack when it hits the floor, that knife flying out of his hand. Her jaws close around his throat and she looks at me with her good eye. She’s panting hard but doesn’t let go of him, nor does she clamp down and end it. She keeps her full weight on him to keep him down and waits for the order to kill.

I give it.