He laughed, throwing his head back and covering his stomach. But then, he snapped his attention forward and turned deadly serious. “Funny, I said something similar to your mate when he gave me this.” Slapping a hand over his face, he lifted his white hair away and offered me an unencumbered view of the scar Rokath had carved into him.

“And now look at me. About to get my revenge,” he giggled, like a fucking child receiving a toy it had been yearning for. Letting his hair fall, the H that mirrored the ones on my wrists was covered once again.

No wonder he cuts his hair that way.

Was his thirst for vengeance born of Rokath’s humiliation of him?

“Revenge for that?” I asked, indicating his forehead. I pressed my lips together and smothered a laugh. He narrowed his eyes in response.

“Silence, you whore. Be as you are supposed to—silent and awaiting command from the male in charge of you. The only reason you aren’t dead yet is because you are the ultimate weapon against the Halálhívó,” he snarled.

That pissed me off. I bared my teeth at him and released a growl to rival any of my mate’s. “The Halálhívó would let me die, so your plan is pointless.”

“We’ll see about that.” The shackles on my ankles now removed, he wrapped a hand around my upper arm and tugged me forward again. I’d been unconscious when they brought me to the Angel’s camp, and when Zaph marched me into the heart of it, I wished again to be anywhere else but here.

A trickle of awareness pricked the back of my mind, and despite the silver around my wrists, the shadows in my chest began to move again.

Hayyel’s magic must be wearing off.

I yanked on the tiny tendril of the bond that appeared, hoping Rokath would feel it.

Thousands of eyes in every shade of blue stared back as Zaph paraded me like a fucking prized hog. Most held a disgusted sneer to their lips. Wad after wad of spit flew in my direction, most missing me, but some stuck to my dress, my legs, and my arms. I snarled back, no doubt confirming their suspicions about the barbaric Demons. But they were so fervent in their belief, there wasn’t anything I could do that would change their minds.

So I rolled with it instead, showing them I wasn’t afraid despite the blood rushing in my ears and the sick feeling roiling in my stomach. Like Hayyel, many seemed to regard me warily as I loosed crazed laughs and spit right back at them. Fuck these Angels. They weren’t better than me, better than any Demon. There was nothing about them that was superior or special. Each of us, in our own way, was unique, with powers gifted by our deities, and all trying to survive in this cruel world.

Why we had to fight was beyond me.

So I let them parade me like the animal they thought I was, right up to a podium in the center of two armies facing off. On one side, a sea of red greeted me, while the other was a mass of white. Zaph dragged me up the stairs, not caring when I stumbled, but rather, jerking forcefully on my right arm and sending pain shooting through it again. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about binding it to set properly again.

Lifting my chin and my gaze, I looked forward toward my fate.

And locked eyes with Rokath.

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61

Assyria was tossed forward onto the platform with the type of care I would expect from a fucking Angel. A growl rumbled in my chest, and the Parancsok with me tensed.

But then, our eyes collided, and our bond flooded with emotion.

“Assyria!” I shouted down it.

“Oh, Fates, Rokath, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Assyria, I am so sorry.”

“They knocked me out with some sort of drug that prevented me from contacting you. It must have finally worn off completely.”

The male Angel stepped forward, and a flash of recognition swept over me. My eyes narrowed on his forehead. Through the wisps of hair, I saw the raised H in his forehead.

The fucking irony.

But then, a realization settled over me. Kiira’s vision had been wrong. Unless I planned on carting Zaph’s head from Lutsk to Sivy, I wouldn’t carry it through the streets, proclaiming my victory.

If I killed him now, would we lose?

The thought tightened my throat, making it even harder to breathe. I forced my attention to Assyria, my beautiful, bold mate. “I am so sorry, Assyria. I should have protected you better.”

“They want to sacrifice me for the Goddess.” The way her voice broke told me just how terrified she was. Anguish tore through me, and I wanted nothing more than to capture her in my arms and tell her it would all be okay.

But I couldn’t make that promise, not when this insane male had my mate locked in his grip.

Zaph yanked a blade from a sheath at his side.

I flicked my attention to the Angels standing with triumphant grins behind Assyria. Then, I turned my head ever so slightly to the side and dropped my voice low so only the Parancsok beside me could hear. “They plan on making a spectacle of her sacrifice. If they should succeed, you know what to do to end them. I will help however I can.”

“Aye,” he whispered back, and I was grateful we had donned our full-face masks that covered our mouths. Not like the Angels could hear or understand us if we spoke Demonic. Only a few spoke the language of the other, given our intense hatred. The common tongue was the usual choice for any diplomatic communication.

Not like this encounter was one of those.

No, this was a confrontation with a singular purpose: revenge.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, a hint of hope leaking into her voice.

“Halálhívó,” Zaph said, lifting his dagger higher and letting it glint in the sunlight. “It appears you can follow instructions after all.”

“I don’t see why that was ever in question,” I growled, crossing my arms over my broad chest to emphasize my physical prowess. “If I remember correctly, during our last altercation I told you to fly away and tell the Koron you started a war. It appears you too can follow instructions. Now can we get on with this or do I need to give you another lesson? Perhaps a nice H on your cock?”

His triumphant grin slid into a hateful jeer. “I have the upper hand here.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Do you?”

Turquoise was not the most powerful eye color in the Angel Realm, and the male still only held the equivalent rank of a Százados, given the armor he wore. I nearly huffed a laugh. Not only was this plot one borne of revenge, but also one to show himself off to his superiors, no doubt to atone for his past mistake of starting the war in the first place.

His face reddened at my nonchalant attitude, and he swept the dagger to Assyria’s throat.

“Trust me,” I quickly told her down our bond.

She closed her eyes briefly like she was steeling herself to do just that.

“Do you want her to die?” he hissed. “Because I will kill her right now. Sacrifice her to the Goddess and thank Her for the gifts she bestowed upon us to help win this war and exterminate the Demons.”

“I have no doubt you think you will. But where would that leave you? Her blood wouldn’t even hit the ground before our forces would overwhelm yours. You are outnumbered two to one at the very least,” I pointed out, turning slowly to face the horde of Demons at my back and sweeping a hand over their expanse. They bared their teeth in turn, flashing thousands of pointed canines in the sun.

“You came unarmed,” he retorted, sticking his nose in the air.

“So? Our magical prowess far exceeds yours. And besides, I am the Halálhívó. The moment there are bodies on the ground, they become mine to wield as I please.” I rolled my neck and sighed, acting like the conversation was boring me.