“Half of a charm I took off Asmodeus’s lackey. I left the other half on the pile of ashes she turned into when I kil ed her. When it was whole, it bore Asmodeus’s sigil.”
“You’re taunting him.”
Vash shook her head. “Three in two weeks? That’s not a coincidence. He’s al owing, maybe even encouraging, his underlings to toy with us.
We’re a prize—angels who were thrown away like garbage.”
“We have enough enemies as it is.”
“No, we have jailers—the Sentinels and their lycan dogs. The demons are possible enemies, if we don’t correct them. We have to take a stand.”
“This isn’t the way I would see things handled.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why you put me in charge of dealing with demon annoyances.” She crossed her legs. “You can shake on a truce with your other hand. I’m the hand that flips them off.”
A commotion in the hal way pushed her swiftly to her feet. Vash moved to the open doorway with preternatural speed, beating Syre by a mere mil isecond.
What she saw froze her blood.
Raze and Salem carried an al -too-familiar body into the house, making a beeline for the dining room, where they laid him on the long oval table.
“What the f**k happened?” she snapped, entering the room and staring at Ice’s motionless body. The minion’s skin was burned black in places and blistered al over. Blood soaked his T-shirt and stained his jeans to the knees. Tears in his clothing revealed the clawing marks of lupine paws.
His hand reached out lightning quick, caging her wrist. He opened bloodshot eyes. “Char…help…”
For a moment the room spun, then everything drew inward, coalescing in frigid clarity. “Where?”
“Old mil . Lycans…Help him…”
Yanking one of Raze’s blades free of the scabbard on his back, Vash spun on her heel and raced into the gloaming.
CHAPTER 1
Elijah Reynolds stood naked on a rock in the woods surrounding Navajo Lake and watched his dreams burn along with the decimated outpost below him. Acrid black smoke plumed into the air in wide, thick funnels that could be seen for miles.
The angels would know a rebel ion had begun long before they reached the ruins.
Around him, lycans yipped with celebratory joy, but he felt none of it. He was cold and dead inside, his life as he’d known it scorched to embers in the smoldering devastation that had once been his home. He excel ed at one thing: hunting vampires. Doing what he enjoyed came from working for the Sentinels—the most elite of al warrior angels. That indentured servitude, while chafing, was a smal price to pay to do what he loved. But very few lycans felt the same, which had led to this result. Everything that mattered to him was gone, and what was left was a battle for independence his heart wasn’t invested in waging.
But it was done and couldn’t be undone. He’d live with it.
“Alpha.”
Elijah’s jaw clenched at the designation he’d never wanted. He glanced at the nude woman who approached him. “Rachel.”
Her gaze lowered.
He waited for her to speak, then realized she was doing the same in reverse. “Now you want to fol ow orders?”
Her hands linked behind her back and her head dropped. Irritated by her lack of conviction, he turned away. He’d told her a revolt was suicide.
The Sentinels would hunt them, exterminate them. The lycans’ one purpose for existence was to serve the angels; if they no longer did that, they no longer had a place in the world. But she wouldn’t listen. She and her mate, Micah—Elijah’s best friend—had incited the others to this act of sheer f**king stupidity.
He sensed the approaching male lycan before he heard him. Turning his head, Elijah watched a golden wolf step into view, then shift midstride into the form of a tal , blond man.
“I’ve rounded up those with self-preservation instincts, Alpha,” Stephan said.
Which confirmed Elijah’s suspicion that some had fled the battle without considering the brutal days certain to lie ahead. Or perhaps some of the smarter ones had returned to the Sentinels. He wouldn’t hold it against them.