Fingers scratched the soft black fur behind their ears. I cooed words of love and praise. Wrapped myself around each of their necks for good measure. Zeec licked up the side of my face. My nose wrinkled, and I swiped his slobber off.

“Save that for after,” I chided as I found the rest of my own armor and weapons. With night fallen, I’d need an extra layer. My jacket waited on the back of a chair, and I shrugged into it, grabbing a few extra daggers and sliding them into hidden slots. Thankfully, my gloves were tucked into another pocket. The supple material was flexible enough for me to wield magic and grasp for blades. Numb hands would not serve me.

I looked up, straight into the mirror. The sight robbed me of air.

Reflected back at me was the Szélhámos—burgundy eyes shining with determination, mouth set in a firm line, hair pulled back and revealing sharp brows. The cascade of ebony down my back was contained in a thick plait. The high neck of my jacket provided extra protection but also gave me an even more commanding air.

No bruises decorated my face. No cuts from harsh slaps marred my tan skin. My innate healing abilities weren’t kicking in to mend sore ribs.

I was no longer the victim of abuse I had been at the hands of Vagach.

No, when I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was the leader I had become. The leader I was always meant to be. The female who would weave a new path forward for the Demons. Who was already doing so.

“I am the fucking Szélhámos.” Speaking my own honorific aloud imbued me with strength. “No male’s hands will mark me again. No Fate can define my path. I am my own salvation.”

All semblance of nerves and doubt slipped away as I stepped into the power I’d always possessed and only recently learned to wield.

“I brought the Demon Realm to its knees. Now, I will do the same for the Angels. These fanatics will fear my wrath.”

The rose-covered helmet settled over my brow, sealing my identity. Darkness engulfed my eyes as I inhaled a deep breath and surrendered to the pull of it. The heady presence that had grown stronger in my time with Rokath. The one he’d encouraged me to embrace in all ways. After all, he was so deep into the black that the night feared him and his mighty power. He was the master of death, the blade of the Reaper, and the executioner of the Fates’ will.

As was I.

“Let’s go,” I told the dogs. In three swift strides, I flung the door open. They hugged my heels as we wound our way through the hall and onto the stairs outside.

The air kissed my cheeks, and the nip in it made me immensely grateful I’d grabbed gloves. Excitement slipped from Grem in Zeec in excited barks, yet they didn’t break my command and dare sprint ahead. Beneath us, males and females raced in all directions, strapping into protective metal armor if they were of a higher rank, reinforcing their arms and legs with plates if they were not. Brown leather blended in with the surrounding trees, while black wings blended into the night as group after group soared overhead to the wall that divided the Angel and Demon Realms.

At the rear of the building, I found Rokath shouting orders.

I halted, breath catching in my throat.

There he stood—ferocious in his command, violent in his protection, death wrapped in flesh and bone.

I understood then, the sacrifice he’d made. Why he’d shut out all emotion to become the executioner of night itself. Why he’d resisted our bond at first.

Horns of wicked ebony speared from the skull-shaped helmet, black as the void between stars. Beneath it was the face I’d come to love with an aching, savage ferocity. The face I’d burn the world to protect.

He’d simply gotten there before me.

As if he sensed my presence on the fringes of his awareness, he tilted his head—slow, deliberate, calm—and through the dart slits of his helm, a flash of burgundy met mine. “Come, mate.”

The words hummed in my bones, in the center of my chest where our bond rested. I obeyed, not because he commanded, but because this was where I belonged. Grem and Zeec followed, framing the two of us as I settled at his side.

Before us, the Deathveiled gathered, falling into precise formation. At the front, Zurronar and Uzadaan stood, hands folded behind the smalls of their backs. Just beyond, Izzenna and Vokkia waited, their chins high and shoulders set. The dozen others held similar postures, all ready to whet their blades in Angel blood.

Then, to my utter shock, Banand and Araquiel emerged from the chaos, hand in hand. They circled around the group and knelt at our feet. Dyed burgundy leather hugged the lean muscle Banand sported, while Araquiel had donned a dark brown. Her fog-colored hair whispered over her shoulders as she tilted her head up, first meeting my eyes, then Rokath’s.

“Halálhívó, I wish to join the fight. I know your trust in me is still tenuous, and I wish to prove myself to you this night. All I ask is that anyone I manage to subdue is taken prisoner and given the same generosity you have shown me,” she spoke in the common tongue.

I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from shooting up my forehead. With Rokath’s helmet firmly in place, his expression was unreadable. Yet his mind whirled, too fast for me to keep up with, as he considered all the possibilities.

His attention sliced to Banand. “Should she betray us, her life is forfeit and you will take it,” he growled in Demonic. My gut twisted. No one else here—save for Zurronar—knew of their mating bond. Many would be with us to witness how they interacted. Rokath had backed him into a corner, with accountability and stakes of the highest regard.

If Araquiel betrayed us, the rest would be watching for him to kill her. It was a test for both of them, and one I sincerely hoped they would not face.

The Demon blessed with the ability to create plagues lifted his head, his expression determined. “I swear to you, Halálhívó, she will not leave my side. I will end it swiftly, if I must.” His throat worked, and a war of emotions played out on his face in painful twists.

My tattered heart squeezed with sympathy, but I understood why Rokath had spoken the command. And as a team, I wanted to show we were united on this.

I cleared my throat and spoke to Araquiel in the common tongue. “For too long, females in the Demon Realm were subjugated to the will of the males.” My focus drifted beyond, meeting the eyes of every warrior elevated to battle alongside me. “We had nothing outside of our fathers or husbands who controlled our lives.”

Muscles feathered in the jaws of the former priestesses, many of whom had joined the faithful to escape the path I’d been placed upon with my marriage to Vagach.

“Now, we have a chance to change that for the better. For our entire realm and sex.” Araquiel held my gaze as I returned it to her. “Fuck that up for us with your betrayal, and I will kill you myself.”

Her turquoise eyes remained locked with mine for a long moment, silent understanding passing between us.

“You have my word. For whatever it means to you,” she finally spoke.

“Rise and fight,” Rokath commanded, his voice as sharp as the sword on his back. They did, falling into the rear of the group. No one offered Araquiel a disdainful glare or shifted away from her.

Pride bloomed in my chest. Perhaps we were changing more than the perception of females in the Demon Realm. Minds and hearts were opening like Bordova roses in the summer, and who was to say that they couldn’t blossom into full acceptance?

The hopeful thought dashed away as Rokath gave the order to move out. Onyx strands reached for Grem and Zeec, snaking around their bodies and lifting them off the ground.

Stepping away from Rokath, I gave us both space to unfurl our wings so we could fly to the wall. Our unit did the same, and we rose as one, both dogs howling and paws swiping through empty air as my mate carried them along with us.