the damn floor and wind up right back in Hell. I’m not in any hurry to go back there anytime soon, you know?”
Ford stops for a second—just long enough to glare at Nix, who’s sprawled out on the couch—then resumes his path back and forth across the living room floor.
Despite what Beck told us about starting to dig into what Salinas and Anderson might be planning, none of us have managed to do anything useful since he and Ryland disappeared upstairs after Trinity.
Jealousy rears up inside me at the thought. I wish like hell that I could’ve been the one to go, the one to try to convince her to give up the idea of doing this on her own.
But what could I do?
How could I convince her?
We can’t even speak unless one of my brothers is there to translate. I would’ve been useless.
Trinity has been working hard to learn the sign language I use to communicate with my brothers. I’ve seen her studying my hands intently, subtly moving her own fingers in a mirror of mine as if trying to commit the motions to memory. But I know she’s a long way from understanding everything.
It eats away at me, the feeling of being so close to her, yet so far away.
I want to be able to tell her how in awe of her I am, how amazed by her strength and bravery. And I want to tell her all the reasons why none of us will let her face the high angel and demon on her own. I want her to know that our insistence on fighting with her isn’t because we haven’t thought this through—it’s because we have. We know what risk we’re taking, and we know it’s worth it.
But I can’t tell her any of that. Not in words she’d understand.
So instead, I lean against the windowsill of one of the large windows in the lavish living room, slightly apart from where my brothers are gathered in the middle of the room.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Wishing.
Sawyer alone doesn’t look agitated. The rest of us, even Nix, are betraying our nervousness by reverting to old habits. Nix is practically melting into the couch, Ford looks like he might punch a hole in the wall, and Remi is muttering recipes under his breath.
But Sawyer just looks thoughtful. His amber eyes gleam like fire, flickering with heat.
I’m about to press away from the windowsill and join Ford in his pacing, but before I can, a quiet sound catches my attention. My gaze shoots to the stairs just as Trinity walks down them, followed closely by Beckett and Ryland.
My heart compresses in my chest.
She’s beautiful.
Her cheeks are a little flushed, and her dark hair is messy. Her eyes are still a bit glassy, but it’s not from tears anymore. She looks relaxed and sated, and as she and my brothers walk through the wide, arched doorway that separates the living room from the entryway, I catch a hint of sweet arousal on the air.
The three of them had sex. I realize it with a flash of certainty, and illogical jealousy rises up in me.
It’s not a surprise that something like that would happen. She just admitted she loves all of us, and it’s not the first time Beckett has been with her. By an unspoken agreement, all of us have shared her as our feelings for her have deepened and developed.
I have no real right to be jealous, except that I’m Envy. It’s what I was created to do—to be.
And the kind of envy I experience defies reason. It whispers in my head that I’m not good enough, that she wants my brothers more than me, that I’ll never have what they have.
Trinity’s brows pull together a little as she scans the room and sees me standing near the window. Without meaning to, I must’ve put my heart on my sleeve, because I see understanding pass across her face. She gives Ry and Beck a soft smile, then moves away from them and walks toward me.
The voice in my head is still telling me that I don’t deserve her, that she’s only doing this out of pity, but I step toward her anyway, drawn by a pull I can’t even describe.
She doesn’t hesitate for a second as she wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tightly and pressing her cheek against my chest. Then she draws back just enough to go up on her tiptoes and press a kiss to my lips. It’s both heated