eyes, her voice growing softer with each word as she added, “I had to hide her memories not only from her but also from others of my line and all of Seraphim kind. This won’t just hurt her, Sethios. It’ll hurt me as well.”
He wanted to say he approved of that reciprocated pain. However, it would be a lie. Now that he had all his memories back, he’d realized the sacrifices they’d all made—Vera included—in protecting Astasiya.
And for that, he would forever be grateful.
Which was why he kept his mouth shut and merely nodded, his way of informing her he understood what needed to be done and would do what he could to help. He slipped his arms around Caro’s waist, hugging her from behind and holding her as Vera went to work on her mind.
His angel screamed, the sound radiating through the bond and engulfing his entire being. It wasn’t out loud, but internal, and soul-destroying. Her suffering nearly undid him, leaving him shaking and causing tears to spring to his eyes. But he took everything she had to give, his persuasive grasp resolute.
She would not move until this was done, no matter how much she yelled and cried. And he’d accept her anguish as punishment.
He closed his eyes, wincing at the shrieks echoing inside him, at the pure agony setting their connection on fire.
She blamed him.
She hated him.
She loathed her existence.
She mentally wept.
She shattered.
She rebuilt herself, then fractured again.
Over and over it went, each sensation slamming into him as though it were his own. He felt Vera meddling with her memories, picking them apart and piecing them back together again. It was worse than what she’d done to him, the amount of weaving and unweaving so substantial that it was a shock Caro had even been able to function.
And it wasn’t just the memories, but her time in reformation, too.
He overheard the chanting, the rules, the edicts that Seraphim were not supposed to feel or care or consider anything other than logic.
Fuck, it was cruel. How could beings exist without so much as an ounce of humanity or remorse inside them? Not all decisions were driven by reason. Emotions mattered. Which he showed her through the bond, telling her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, how much he wanted her to come back to him.
She shut him out.
Then let him in again.
Then slammed the door in his face once more.
It was a mental dance that left him shaking against her, his arms holding fast, his body her anchor in a world she didn’t want to return to. There’s no choice, angel, he whispered, his voice agonized by the pain straining their link. You’re coming back to me. Then we’re taking them all down.
Because this experience showed him something very important—a fact all of them had danced around for years.
The Seraphim were just as big a problem as his father. Perhaps even worse because they had a society littered with harsh rules and stoic edicts.
They’d created Osiris. Left him to do whatever the fuck he wanted on Earth. And now wanted to use Astasiya to remove the bastard.
A twenty-five-year-old girl.
Mated or not, she was still a child in the grand scheme of the universe. They all were when compared to the ancients on the fucking council. And they wanted a young female to take down one of the oldest beings known to time?
She’s expendable to them, Caro whispered, their connection more alive now than it’d ever been. Or at least, it felt that way after years of being separated.
He released her from his persuasion and turned her in his arms, finding her eyes filled with knowledge and history. It was all written there in her expression, the love they’d once had, the bond they’d held sacred, and the inevitable heartbreak they’d both endured.
They want to use her because she’s expendable, she reiterated, drawing him back to his thoughts on the council and their intentions. She’s a soldier to them.
Yes, he agreed. We all are.
Her knees buckled, but he caught her with ease and lifted her up into his arms. Vera sat in a chair a foot away, her eyes closed.
“Is it done?” he asked her. She didn’t answer, causing him to frown. “Vera?”
“She’s resting,” Gabriel said from the other side of the room. He’d taken a seat as well, and Ezekiel was nowhere to be seen.
“How much time has passed?” Sethios asked, noting the sunlight outside—a rarity in Iceland during the winter season. That indicated