Angel Betrayed (The Fallen #2)(85)

Seline.

Mateo stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you—”

“I got my wish. We had a deal. Now send me to hell.”

Mateo blinked at him. “No, you don’t want to—”

“I’m not leaving Seline there.” Rogziel. Fucking bastard, having his vengeance. “He sicced his hound on her. She was the prey. Now she’s gone. And I’m not leaving her there to burn.”

Mateo tried to break free of his grip. Sam didn’t let him. His full power was out now, blazing. The only thing he’d ever cared about was gone.

No, I won’t let her go.

“You can’t bring the dead back,” Mateo said, voice rumbling. “I’m sorry, but you can’t—”

“Watch me.” Hell couldn’t have her.

“You don’t know what you’re messing with!”

Love . . . you . . .

He was one of the oldest angels. The strongest. He’d walked heaven and hell long before men knew to fear the monsters in the dark. “She’s not dying.”

She’s already dead, a sly voice whispered in his mind.

“You’d burn for her?” Mateo asked, shaking his head. “Because that’s what will happen. You’ll get in, you’ll burn, and you’ll stay there forever. You don’t have wings anymore. No one will pull your ass out.”

He was the only one who could get Seline out. He could trade for her, sacrifice. He’d gotten out once, he could do it again.

“Send me to hell.” They had a f*cking deal.

“It’s not that easy,” Mateo snapped, trying to jump away from the flames that ate at his feet. “I have to prepare, find the right spell—”

“Find it.” He was shattering apart on the inside. Only fury kept him in one piece.

“Even if you get there, how do you think you’ll get her out? She can’t get out! Other than power-freaking-houses like you, only punishment angels can walk out of that prison.”

Angel . . . no wings.

He shoved Mateo away and raced out of the room. He searched every inch of that place for Seline, but she wasn’t there. He couldn’t smell her, couldn’t feel her—nothing.

It wasn’t just like she’d died. It was more. Like she’d just . . . ceased to be entirely.

Angel . . . no wings.

“Delia!” The hallway shook with his bellow. “Delia, get down here, now!” He was desperate, so desperate he’d turn to an angel for help.

He burst outside of the old house. The dark night stared back at him. No stars glittered. Just a pitch-black sky.

“Delia!”

The angel didn’t answer him. He raged, but she didn’t appear.

Mateo came out with Az’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here.”

No angel. No heaven for him. Hell . . . hell was now. Seline, gone, burning.

He stared at Az. His brother had actually tried to help him. That should matter for something.

But he couldn’t feel anything right then. Just an icy numbness that suffocated him.

“I . . . saw her die, in my vision.” Mateo’s voice was halting. “I told you. She was covered in blood.”

She had been.

“You knew the way this would end.” But there was sympathy in Mateo’s voice. Sadness.

Sam flinched. “I thought I could protect her.” His arrogance. His shame. He’d actually thought he could change the future.

“No . . . what will be, that’s what always comes.” Mateo dropped Az onto the ground. “She was marked for Death. I knew it from the first moment I took her blood. She didn’t belong in this world.”

Without her, he didn’t, either.

Sam grabbed Az. Hefted him over his shoulder. His brother, his burden. Then he began to walk into the night. One foot in front of the other.

He kept walking, walking, and he knew that he was already dead.





Seline opened her eyes to a world of white. Since the last thing she remembered was a fire so hot it scorched her breath, she hadn’t quite expected . . . this.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” The woman’s voice was familiar.

Seline glanced to the left. Delia smiled at her. “Hello there.”

Seline jumped up. She’d been placed in some kind of bed. Some kind of really fancy white bed. The whole place was fancy. With big, white columns, and wow, was that a golden floor? She paced quickly away from the bed, aware that her heart was racing far too fast. “Where am I?” The first question on her lips, but . . . this place . . . a twist in her gut told her just where she was.

Hair fluttered over Seline’s shoulder. She shoved it back. But . . . it wasn’t hair. Something softer. Smoother.

Delia inclined her head. “Welcome home.”

Seline threw her hand back over her shoulder. She touched—wings. Actual, real, soft-as-down wings. “No.” This can’t be happening.

“I said you were special.” Now Delia walked around her and studied Seline with an appraising eye. “It doesn’t usually happen this way. Angels are born here, not on earth, and your, ah, your blood line wasn’t exactly pure.”

Had the woman just called her a mutt? Seline glared at her. “Where’s Sam?”