Rage and Ruin by Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,190

my sore muscles and bones in working order, because sooner rather than later, Gabriel would come for me, and I planned on putting up a fight with or without the aid of one very scary, very powerful evil archangel.

So, I’d pulled on my big-girl pants, ordered an Uber and almost gotten into the wrong car, but I made it to the park by myself. I did it, and God, that felt like a big step.

I kept walking and came upon the bench where Zayne and I had sat the day I’d gone to the coven with Roth. Chest heavy and aching, I made my way to it and took a seat, wincing as my tailbone protested the action. For some reason, the sucker hurt more than anything else.

People strolling past sent concerned looks in my direction once I removed my sunglasses and hooked them in the front of my shirt. I knew I looked like I’d survived a car accident or a death match with a gorilla. Barely. Bones had fused back together. Torn muscles had stitched themselves, and ripped skin had healed, but I was covered in purplish-blue and some angry red bruises that were slow to fade. Gabriel’s hand had left marks around my neck. My left cheek was swollen and discolored. Both eyes were swollen with dark greenish-blue smudges under them, and they were bloodshot.

I’d thought the Uber driver was going to take me to the hospital or to the police after getting a good look at me.

Shadows grew around me, and park lights came on as night slowly crept in. Fewer and fewer people passed me, until there was no one else, and then—only then—did I look up at the night sky.

There were no stars.

I didn’t know if the sky was empty because it was still overcast, or if whatever damage Gabriel had done to my body had somehow accelerated the failing of my eyes. Knowing my luck, it was probably the latter.

Closing my eyes, I thought about something I’d avoided for the past two days, something Layla had said. Zayne still hadn’t come to me as a ghost or a spirit, and I didn’t know if that meant he had crossed over and was adjusting to...well, to paradise, and he was doing what Layla had said—waiting for me when it was my time.

Roth had told me what I needed to do to summon the Angel of Death, since I couldn’t go to Hell or to Heaven to speak with him. I’d have to get the Lesser Key, which was currently at the Warden compound. I doubted they’d just hand that over, so I probably needed one more day before I was ready to force Nicolai to do something he most likely would not want to do. I would summon Grim and I would get Zayne back, but...

Tears spilled from my eyes, wetting my cheeks. How I could still cry was beyond me. I’d thought that well was drained dry, but I was wrong. The tears fell, even when I closed my eyes. Crying was a weakness I couldn’t afford right now, especially since I felt like I was so close to tipping over a razor-sharp edge.

But what if Zayne really was at peace? What if he was safe and happy? What if he had the eternity that he very much deserved? How could I... How could I take that from him? Even if Gabriel succeeded in bringing on the apocalypse, Zayne would be safe. The gates of Heaven would close, and maybe it wouldn’t crumble into itself like Gabriel claimed. I couldn’t imagine God allowing all those souls and the angels to perish. God would have to step in before then, and while I’d never see him again, Zayne would be safe.

Could I be that selfish, to bring him back to this? To a place where he could die once again fighting Gabriel, to protect a world that would never know all that he’d sacrificed for it? And if we failed to stop Gabriel, there’d be no eternity, no peace or paradise. We’d be stuck in the human plane, where we’d turn into wraiths or be dragged to Hell.

Opening my eyes, I dragged my hands under my cheeks and stared at the sky. Two days ago, I would’ve said yes, I was that selfish. A week ago, I would’ve said the same thing...but now?

I loved Zayne with every fiber of my being, with every breath I took and with every beat of my heart. I