CHAPTER ELEVEN
DAMIAN'S POV
The silence in my house felt wrong. Heavy. Like a storm waiting to break.
Cassiel was late. I checked the clock—4 PM. No sign of him. My restlessness only grew, gnawing at the edges of my nerves. With nothing else to do, I decided to go out and restock my coffee supply. The store was only a few streets away, a short walk to clear my head.
I grabbed my keys and wallet, leaving my phone behind as usual. Outside, the propane tank was gone from the middle of my lawn. Had Cassiel moved it? Or was something else playing games with me?
The neighborhood was quiet. Too quiet. I felt eyes on me as I walked, though when I turned, there was nothing but empty streets and closed doors.
The grocery store was bright and full of life, a stark contrast to the unease curling in my stomach. I moved through the aisles, filling my basket absentmindedly—coffee, milk, sugar. Then, on a whim, I grabbed a box of tea bags. Maybe Cassiel would prefer this.
It wasn't until I left the store, arms full of bags, that I noticed them.
At first, they were just figures in my peripheral vision, shadows moving where no shadows should be. Then, as I turned onto an empty street, I saw them clearly—three towering figures walking in perfect unison. Not like the mindless creatures from last night. These ones were different. Intelligent. Calculated. And worse, they were hunting.
The first was covered in tattoos, the ink wrapping around his muscular arms like writhing snakes. A sleeveless shirt exposed a massive symbol on his chest—two serpents crossing over one another, their fanged mouths stretched wide. The second had long, slicked-back black hair, his sharp features marred only by the same emblem inked across his throat. The last one wore nothing but a pair of blue khakis, his entire torso a tapestry of demonic script.
Something was wrong. The air around them shimmered, warped, as if reality itself resisted their presence. And yet… no one else noticed them. People walked past, chatting, shopping, unaware that something ancient and monstrous was stalking the streets.
I ran.
The moment my feet hit the pavement, I heard them move. Heavy footfalls. A rush of air. Then—metal groaned, glass shattered. I turned just in time to see a car flying toward me.
You've got to be kidding me.
I dove to the side, bags flying from my grip, groceries spilling onto the asphalt. The car crashed where I had stood seconds before, the impact sending a shockwave through my bones.
My heart pounded. My breath came in short, panicked bursts.
Then I realized.
I had taken the wrong turn.
The street narrowed, brick walls closing in on either side. A dead end.
Footsteps echoed behind me. Slow. Deliberate.
Trapped.
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CASSIEL'S POV
The moment I stepped onto his street, I knew something was wrong.
The air was too still. It reeked of something foul, something dark. Then, my wrist burned—the twin bracelet I had given him earlier flaring with light. My chest tightened. A pulse of distress. His distress.
Damian was in trouble.
There was no hesitation. I tore through space itself, the world around me warping as I stepped through the veil. My surroundings twisted, blurred—then snapped back into focus.
I landed in the alleyway.
Blood.
Groceries scattered. A torn bag of coffee beans spilled across the concrete like dirt over a fresh grave. Damian lay crumpled on the ground, his body battered, bruised, and limp. His face was swollen, a slow trickle of blood running from his mouth.
And them.
The demons stood over him, shadows stretching unnaturally against the alley walls. One of them knelt, fingers ghosting over Damian's cheek with an almost delicate touch.
"Soft," it mused, voice like a rusted blade.
"Pretty," another chuckled. "Maybe we should—"
My vision blurred.
A roaring, boiling rage consumed me, more primal than anything I had felt in centuries.
The world darkened at the edges. My wings snapped into existence—three floating halos of jagged, golden light, their glow sickly and wrong. My silver aura darkened, threads of black and gold twisting through it like a sickness.
I moved before they even noticed me.
The first demon barely had time to blink before my hand was through his chest. His scream was short-lived, cut off as I ripped out his spine in one fluid motion. Dark green blood sprayed the alley walls, steaming against the cold air.
The second lunged. I caught him by the throat, crushing his windpipe with ease. His claws dug into my skin—futile. Useless. I twisted my grip and ripped his head clean off, tossing it aside like garbage.
The third tried to run.
I let him.
Just for a moment.
Then, in a flicker of movement, I was in front of him. His yellow eyes widened in pure terror.
I smiled.
A slow, cruel smile.
Then I drove my blade into his gut and tore him apart from the inside out.
Silence fell.
Dark blood dripped from my hands, pooling around my boots. The air was thick with the scent of death, burning flesh, and something else—something darker, something I had buried long ago.
Then I turned to Damian.
He was barely conscious, his breath shallow. His eyes flickered open just enough to see me, and for the first time since I met him…
He looked afraid.
Not of the demons.
Of me.
I knelt beside him, my stained hands reaching for his bruised face, but before I could speak, his body slackened.
Unconscious.
A faint hum filled my ears—the distant echo of something old stirring awake. Something I had tried so hard to suppress.
I clenched my fists.
Not here. Not now.
I lifted him into my arms and vanished into the void before the city even noticed what had happened.