by Leia Stone
For as long as I’d worked with him, Raphael had never directly healed anyone. He was banned from intervening in mortal affairs, lest he be banned from heaven.
“You’re worth it,” he confessed, and everything inside of me ripped open.
A sob escaped my throat as I rolled onto my side. “Let me go! I need to be with her. I need to find her.”
Raph held my wrists steadfastly, never easing up as I thrashed. “Son, suicides don’t go to Hell. They go right upstairs, where they are showered with the love and affection they so desperately need.”
His admission made more tears flow down my cheeks. I couldn’t get to her. Even killing myself I couldn’t reach her. I felt like such a failure.
“Help me, Raph. What do I do?”
The archangel’s face swam into view, and there was so much compassion there. He didn’t judge me. Even after this, he still loved me. I could see it in his eyes, in the way he always looked at me with pride, and it killed me that I was such a disappointment.
“You need to trust the bigger picture. Trust that Brielle has her own path, a portion of which may not involve you. Trust that she is strong enough to survive anything down there, and that she’ll return to us. Son, it’s time to let her go. For now.”
My entire body went numb. The grief I’d held at bay for so long consumed me.
Let her go…
I didn’t think I could do that, but I might just have to in order to survive. Everyone else had moved on, even Shea… partly. She was engaged and living her life. Still looking for Bri, but she’d moved on, in a way. A way that I never did.
“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love her,” I confessed.
Raphael beamed at me then, a full teeth smile. “Good. Because love is eternal and can never die. No one can ever take that from you.”
His reassurance brought a small measure of comfort to me. What Brielle and I experienced was real. Our love, the memories we’d made, would always be with me.
The archangel removed his hands from mine, and I looked down to see thick white scars along my wrists where I’d cut them.
“I’m going to leave those lines there as a reminder of how far you’ve come,” he told me.
My cheeks burned in shame. My greatest mentor, who I looked up to like a father, had just given up his chance to return to heaven … for me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Reaching out, he grasped my shoulder. “My life has more meaning with you and the other kids in it. There’s nothing you would ever need to apologize to me for.”
I just nodded. At a loss for words.
“And son?” he called out.
I looked up at him, feeling raw and emotional.
“You could never disappoint me.”
I felt like the biggest dick in the world, but I wanted Raph to know I was grateful for what he’d done.
“Thank you.” Sitting up slowly, I let him wrap me in a hug.
I needed to get out of Angel City. It was the only way I could hope to move on.
Chapter Seven
“Don’t do this!” Noah shouted, standing like a sentinel in front of my car.
The past few months had been the roughest of my life. Noah had been there through it all and I couldn’t stand to hurt him anymore, but I needed to get out of this city, out of this funk I was in and do something worthwhile. I was going to join the Fallen Resistance, an elite group of Fallen Army soldiers who worked in San Francisco, to save women and children from the underground human trafficking ring. I’d shaved my head, sold my bike and there was no going back.
“You wanted me to let her go. I’m letting her go!” I told my best friend.
In the past few months since my attempt at taking my life, I’d taken a dark turn. I’d become a functional alcoholic, bingeing on weekends to numb the pain. I tried to pick up my old life where I left it, but it wasn’t possible. Going out in warzones and being active in the Army did little to distract me. I kept thinking about what they were doing to her, if she were still alive. The thick scars on my wrists never healed like they should have, so they were a constant reminder.
I was lost without her. So lost.
Every time I failed at life, Noah was there to pick me up again, and I couldn’t do that to him anymore. Not when he had Shea, and his own future to plan. I wouldn’t bring him down with me. I needed to take Raphael’s advice and move on. Create a new life.
I needed to give up on Brielle.
“I don’t want you to get killed in the process of letting her go. People in the resistance don’t make it home.” Noah’s voice caught, and I knew I’d have to be a dick or he’d never let me go. He’d never stop trying to get me to come back to this place that only reminded me of her.
“Then I’ll never come back. I don’t care!” I shouted in his face.
Noah reached out, blindingly fast, letting his fist connect with my jaw. Pain exploded in my face, and for a second a thrill went through me. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel.
It was better this way.
I just stared at him. My closest friend, my only friend now.
“Shit. Linc … I’m sorry.” His regret was immediate. I could see it in his wide eyes.
I nodded. “Don’t come after me.”
I shoved myself in the car before I lost my nerve. Throwing it in reverse, I peeled out of the parking lot, my gaze on the rearview mirror, where my best friend was on his knees in tears.
I’d become an asshole. The same asshole I was when Bri met me.
My buddy Dilly, the one who talked me into joining the resistance, gave me a safe house address on the edge of San Francisco to memorize. Joining the resistance was a position only open to captains, and Dilly knew I was struggling with staying in Angel City. At least this would give me a purpose—killing the sick assholes who sold children like they were property, and getting those kids back to their families without getting caught. It was at least something positive I could do with my life. Even if my existence would be short-lived, since the life expectancy of a resistance fighter was about three to six months.
But how many people could I save in that time? Each person I saved from slavery would be redemption for not being able to save Bri.
The drive was long and agonizing. I kept thinking of Noah’s destitute face as I drove away; the pain in my jaw reminded me just how broken our friendship had become. By the time I finally pulled up to the small safe house, I was tired and weary. San Francisco was a demon stronghold; no angel-blessed was allowed in there. The people they despised the most were Celestials. If I were found out, I’d be hung up in the streets, making an example of me.
As I threw the car in park, a figure in black army fatigues popped out from the shadows of the house and approached my car, a gun at his side.
Whoa, tight security.
“Who sent you?” he asked in a low, hushed voice. His hood was pulled over his head to mask his face. I popped the door open, leaning out halfway.
“Dilly Thomas.” I matched his quiet tone.
The man nodded and looked behind me, as if assessing if I were followed. “Get your shit and get inside. We’re moving this safe house tomorrow. Too many neighbors asking questions.”
Damn.
I wasn’t used to this type of treatment. I was a captain. I was the one usually barking orders. Yet, for all I knew, this guy could be above me in rank and if I wanted to help the resistance, I’d have to leave my ego at the door. Jumping out, I swiftly grabbed my bag and then followed him into the house.
The moment we entered the doorway, he closed it and spun on me. Whipping off his hood, he exposed the face of a man of about forty, with short-buzzed hair and fierce brown eyes.
“What are you?” he asked. “Angel blessed?”
My heart thudded in my chest. What if the safe house had been compromised, and this guy was some demon-bound asshole ready to take my head off the moment I said Celestial. I’d left my sword and all other identifying obj
ects back in Angel City. Other than my wings and the tattoos hidden under my coat, nothing would be overly obvious.
My answer took too long, and I saw the moment he mistrusted me. His gaze sharpened, and his grip tightened on the gun.
Screw it. Here goes nothing.
“Celestial.” I braced myself for the shots that might follow, if he wasn’t in fact a part of the resistance.
The man relaxed a little. “Captain Grey?”
A relieved sigh left me. Why the hell hadn’t we started with names?
I simply nodded.
He saluted me. “I’m General Stiger.”
My eyes bugged. A general? Not just any general. General Stiger was a legend, and he was running front door security? This guy had single-handedly started the resistance.
I straightened my stance, standing at attention. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“At ease, son. We don’t follow much protocol here. We’re all equals for the cause.”
Equals. In the military? Interesting. Especially considering they only accepted captains or higher.
He must have noticed my slight smirk.
“Can’t have a bunch of rookies up in here getting their partners killed.”
My eyebrows rose. “Partners?”
I had thought this was a solitary mission, which was the reason I took it.
He nodded. “Every resistance member goes in with someone pretending to be their significant other.”
My stomach sank. “So…” I wasn’t sure I was hearing him right.
He placed a hand on my back, and led me into the adjoining room, where a young attractive woman with short black hair sat on a couch, cleaning a gun.
“So, this is your new partner and pretend girlfriend, Catia.”
Oh Fuck.
The girl looked up at me and nodded. “Nice to meet ya.” There was hardness in her features that suggested she’d been through some shit. Her smile was forced, her eyes a little sad. You didn’t join the resistance because you loved your life, that was for sure.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I’d come here to forget about my fiancée being taken by the Devil, not to dishonor her name by moving in with some chick and playing house.
“Hey,” I mumbled to her before turning to General Stiger. “Umm, if it’s cool with you guys, I’d like to just go in by myself. No significant other.”
The girl raised one eyebrow but went back to cleaning her gun, not saying a word.
“I heard about your situation, son.” General Stiger put a hand on my shoulder, in an oddly comforting gesture for a military man. “But we’ve found that single males of your physique moving into the city are targeted for being spies. If you move in with your girlfriend, looking for work, it’s a bit more believable. And the longer you’re in there, the more lives you can save.”
I let out a sigh and nodded curtly.
He was right.
Stiger squeezed my shoulder. “Alright then, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other, and I’ll be back in two hours to give you your mission details. Learn as much as you can about the other in that time, because it could be life or death if you don’t look like a real couple.”
Fuck my life.
I’d lived the past ten or so months in a trailer so I could avoid human interaction, and now I was supposed to make this chick my fake girlfriend in two hours? A headache throbbed at the base of my skull.
Walking over, I sat on the couch next to Catia, but as far away as I could, hugging the armrest across from her.
“I’m Captain Lincoln Grey, Celestial. I’ve been with the Fallen Army for a while now. I’m twenty—”
“Whoa there, robot.” She cut me off with a laugh. “Let’s start with normal conversation.”
I blinked rapidly, caught off guard by her question. I’d forgotten what normal conversation was.
Her eyebrow rose. “What kind of music do you like? Favorite food? Stuff like that. Couples stuff.”
Couples.
My heart pinched, I could almost hear Brielle’s voice in my head if I closed my eyes tight enough.
I didn’t want this girl thinking this was anything but an army assignment. Best to get that right out in the open.
“Look, before we get to know each other, I just want to say that this is strictly a work assignment for me. I’m not interested in a real relationship or anything so … yeah.”
Jesus, that was awkward, and why the hell was she grinning ear to ear?
“Well, considering I like girls, this is strictly a work assignment for me as well.”
I’m an idiot.
Why did I assume she would have the hots for me?
“Right. Sorry.” This was going to be the longest two hours of my life.
Setting her gun down, she turned to face me. “So, tell me your story. Like, for reals. Let’s get to know each other on a deeper level. It will make all of this more believable and easier.”
There was something about this girl being a complete stranger—even though she was asking me to reveal my story—that had the floodgates opening inside of me. Raph and Noah had begged me to see a grief counselor like I did when my parents died, but I’d refused because Brielle wasn’t dead. Or at least I couldn’t believe she was until I saw a body. But with Catia, the stranger who was into other chicks and not me, I decided to let out everything.
“I’m here because my fiancée was kidnapped by Lucifer, and taken to the underworld—but not before he slit her throat. So, I’m not really sure if she’s dead or alive, but it’s been almost a year, and I need a change. I want to make a difference … so I’m here.”
There. I said it. To a complete stranger.
Her eyes widened before growing misty, and she nodded.
“I’m here because my fourteen year old little sister was taken in the night, from her bed in our family home, and sold into slavery. By the time we found her she was in Europe, being used as child labor…” Her voice caught. “And they must have been tipped off because they killed her before we could get there. I’m here to get as many kids as I can out, and back to their families.”
Oh my God.
I wasn’t sure what to do, but instinctively I reached for her hand and she took mine, giving it a squeeze.
“Let’s set a record for most kids rescued,” I told her.
Her lips curled into a grin, a few tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I’d like that.”
And with that, against all odds, I’d made a new friend.
Chapter Eight
Catia turned out to be one of the coolest chicks I’d met in a long time. She had a great sense of humor, was dedicated to the cause, and gave me shit at every turn. She was a mage in the Fallen Army, which would come in super handy in concealing my angel- blessed gifts. General Stiger wasn’t back yet, and it had crept well over the two-hour mark, but we continued to happily get to know each other.
“So, anyone special back home?” I asked her as I did inventory of my pack. I had a pocket knife, but no fancy weapons that would alert a demon to where I was truly from.
She shrugged. “My ex-girlfriend cheated on me a few months ago, so I figure this is a good way to get back at her.”
Hah. I barked out a laugh. I was about to retort, when the front door opened and then slammed.
“We need to leave!” the general barked, bursting into the room.
I stood quickly, slinging my bag over one shoulder. Catia also jumped to attention, stashing her revolver into her duffle bag.
“The safe house has been made. We need to go out the back.” He flung the back door open and we burst out into the night, no questions asked.
The sound of sirens blared in the distance as we ran to the back fence, hopping over it and into the neighbor’s yard. The sound of a barking dog forced our little group to run faster, going again over the wall and into the front yard. Now we were at the street behind the safe house, the lamps cast little yellow circles onto the concrete, and I looked left and right
before sprinting with the general and Catia to the next block. We jogged for a good five minutes before finally reaching a dark train yard.
After a moment of catching his breath, the general handed Catia and I each an envelope.
“Your new identities. This only works if you go through the main guard gate, and request citizenship. If you sneak in, there’s no way you’ll be made a broker. Brokers are the ones that deal with buyers, and have full access to the slaves.”
Broker. Buyer. Slave. Those words sounded so wrong when talking about humans.
Catia and I nodded, slipping the papers into our jackets.
General Stiger walked us over to a side alley, where a beat up motorcycle was leaning against a wall. He handed me the keys.
“If they let you in, they will put you in temporary housing for a week. Our guy on the inside says they monitor everything you say in temp housing. No visual, but audio in nearly every room. So, be a couple. Act like couples do, and don’t talk about anything resistance related.”
Jesus. It was at that moment that I realized I might be in over my head. I wanted to make a difference, but would I even survive a week?
“Who’s our contact on the inside?” Catia asked.
Stiger nodded. “James Willow. He’s deep undercover, been at his post nearly a year. Our longest lasting operative.”
That was probably supposed to be good news, but instead, it just made a stone sink into my gut.
A year was a long time to live?
It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to live without Brielle anyway. And in the short time I did have to live, I wanted to make a difference.
“How do we get the slaves out?” I asked. I needed to know more about an operation before going into it. I’d never gone in blind like this.
Stiger looked over his shoulder, scanning the space. The sirens were still blaring, but sounded a decent ways away.
“Sometimes we leave a cage open, sometimes we smuggle them out through the tunnels, but most times we buy them.”
Cage. He said cage.