Atlas, Part 1 (A Four Horsemen Companion Duet)

Chapter 3

Atlas tensed, readying himself for a fight. These… whatever they were had a presence about them that he hadn’t encountered before. Nothing like the Demons that had been throwing themselves like confetti at the human populace. Stronger. Smarter.

He forced himself not to glance at the beautiful Angel with the six large black wings that were like pure magic. Something out of the fairy tales he’d read as a kid. He’d seen Angels with different colored wings in the two weeks since the entire world had exploded but nothing like this man with dark hair, blue eyes that were nothing like the dull eyes that Atlas himself had—these were vibrant and mesmerizing—and a kind smile. And definitely nothing like the other two: the giant hulk with a weapon whose blade was as big as Atlas’s head and gray eyes that were like melted silver being poured, and the creepy one with the fucking spider .

“Take us to the person in charge,” the biggest one—Con?—said.

“You’re looking at him,” Atlas said stiffly. He hadn’t asked for the responsibility, didn’t really want it if he were being honest. He hadn’t become an officer because he wanted to be in charge of every single person in America . If that were the case, he’d have gone the political route, and just the thought of that left a sour taste in his mouth. The other high-ranking officials had left, some before the world had imploded, and some of the newly promoted, like Atlas himself, had all ganged up on him and declared he was in charge. He hadn’t even been given the chance to protest or punch Captain Stanva’s smug-looking face.

“Are they letting children command now?”

“I’m thirty-five,” Atlas snarled before he could bite it back. It was none of their business how old he was. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to fuck off.” In fact, he wished they would. They made him uneasy in a way little else could. Well, the pretty Angel and the giant one did, at least.

The other one, smaller, with the fucking giant spider hanging off his shoulder—Atlas wasn’t getting used to that—smiled in a way that made the hair on the back of Atlas’s neck stand up.

“I’m Famine. This is Conquest. And that’s Raziel. Don’t mind Con, he has no manners. You must have a base of operation where we could continue this conversation?”

“The military base,” Atlas said. No point keeping it a secret. It wasn’t one. The Demons knew where they were, had been trying every so often to get through their defenses. So far, they were holding, though that might have something to do with the fact that nothing substantial had been thrown at them there yet for reasons that Atlas couldn’t begin to fathom. When they did… Atlas was trying to prepare for the inevitable, but who could prepare for this? It wasn’t in any training manuals the military possessed.

“We’ll meet you there,” Conquest said gruffly.

What the hell did that—Atlas’s jaw dropped as a strange swirl of dark gray fog lifted up around the four of them, and they stepped into it. When the fog disappeared, they were gone.

What the fuck?

“Brandt?” Leon asked, stepping forward to stand beside him. He’d once been his copilot and had been thrust into a position of authority neither of them had been ready for. There just weren’t enough of them left, and they were all being shoved into positions they couldn’t handle. “What the fuck just happened?”

Atlas shook his head. “I have no idea.” He wished he did.

“Famine. Conquest,” Sergeant Cory White, United States Army, said. “Anyone else getting the picture that I’m getting? Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

Atlas had never met Sergeant White before all this. A Special Forces Army soldier that they’d saved just over a week ago. It had been a stroke of luck, and Atlas had used him a lot since then because he had balls of steel. Until Conquest. Atlas didn’t blame him. None of them could have stood up against that sheer presence.

“I thought that was Pestilence, not Conquest?” Leon said.

“Semantics, man. I’ve seen both.”

“Enough,” Atlas barked out. “Cut the chatter. We’re heading back to base. The Humvee is totaled, so we need a new means of transport. Fan out, in pairs. Shoot at anything that moves, and find us something with four wheels.” If it wasn’t big enough, someone could sit on the fucking roof.

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir,” and everyone but Leon moved out to search the area. With any luck, there would be a car or vehicle of some kind that had keys or that was easy to wire. Not a skill that Atlas had, unfortunately. Hindsight was always an asshole.

“You think he’s right?” Leon asked, shifting his weapon from one shoulder to the other. “About who they are?”

Fuck knew. It didn’t bode well if they were. “I don’t think I want them to be,” Atlas said honestly. “If I remember anything from Bible study—which mostly I don’t—the appearance of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse doesn’t leave us with a lot of hope, does it?”

Leon grimaced and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It seemed like they were here to help us?”

Is that what he’d gotten out of that exchange? The gorgeous Angel, Raziel, had wanted to help them. It was only lucky for them he seemed to have some kind of leash on the big one. “Another tick in the ‘no,’ column, though,” he pointed out. Why would the Horsemen help them? Seemed counterproductive.

“Or another tick in the ‘we don’t fucking know what’s going on’ column.”

Atlas would put his bet on that one. They were all standing around with their dicks out and no clue where their pants were.

Fucking hell. He ran a hand through his short black hair, pulling at it lightly. It was getting longer, but it wasn’t like they had a barber handy. He wasn’t about to get a warning about the length, at least. No one gave a shit about those kinds of regulations right now.

The entire planet had lost its mind and was taking them all along for the ride.

“Sir, we found something!”

Finally, some good news. Atlas slapped Leon on the chest. “C’mon, let’s get back to base and see what they have to say.” He glanced around, scanning all the collapsed buildings and the streets for anything that might jump out at them. Being out here made him twitchy. Those things came out of nowhere, like a swarm of rabid animals. He’d feel better being back in the relative safety of the base walls. Better security and numbers than out here.

ATLAS WIPED HIS SWEATY palms on his battle uniform as he walked the halls of the main building that they were using on base for operations. He’d turned a briefing room into their planning area and had a nearby office himself for anything more sensitive, or if he needed to speak to someone behind closed doors. He’d had a power nap with his head on the desk a few times too. He struggled to find more than an hour or two at a time to sleep properly before someone needed something urgent.

Nonessential personnel and civilians they’d found and rescued in the city were in another building, closely guarded, while they worked out their next move. Atlas had chosen one further away, which was a double-edged sword. He’d taken the risk so they didn’t have everyone in close proximity, making it easier for them all to die in one coordinated attack.

The three… whatever they were—he wasn’t calling them the Horsemen until he’d had it confirmed—hadn’t arrived yet. He’d told the guards at the gate to watch out for them and let them through, but so far, nothing. Where were they? Were they even coming?

Atlas wasn’t holding his breath. Part of him felt relief. Something about them made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t explain.

“General,” Major Thomas Hodges—one of their only remaining medical personnel, who was closely guarded—said in greeting as Atlas entered the room. “Heard you hit a bit of a snag.”

Atlas didn’t bother correcting the title. Not anymore. He’d protested having it, hadn’t earned it. “If you want to call it that.” He circled the center table, where the city map they’d found somewhere was laid out. Sitting in storage from way back when they hadn’t relied so heavily on technology. While they still had power—and even hot water—for now, Atlas didn’t like their chances of it lasting for much longer, and he didn’t want them to be caught unawares. So physical map it was.

“We cleared this area,” he said, grabbing a green tack from a random metal desk holder on the corner of the map. He speared it in the middle of the four-block radius he and his team had been clearing out. Then he used a green marker to circle it. He didn’t care if as “general,” he was supposed to stay here and bark orders. He’d never been that kind of leader, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He recapped the marker and tossed it onto the table. “What happened here?” he asked, gesturing where a red tack was pinned not that far from them. He could have sworn when he’d left, it had been green. Easy to spot since there was more red than green on the map.

“Ambush. Killed six men. A team we sent after them went MIA shortly after arriving. We haven’t been able to spare anyone else to check out what happened.”

They didn’t need more than one guess. “I’ll go out and—” He stopped abruptly as sirens sounded, a piercing circular noise. “Fuck. Gather the men, make your way over to the civilians,” Atlas yelled over the loud roaring. “If this is an attack, we want birds in the air and everyone on deck. Make it happen!”

“Yes, sir.”

Atlas ran right into a solid, warm wall as he rushed out of the room. Huge hands the size of his head clamped onto his upper arms and held tight.

The smell. Atlas recognized it. A rich cologne, with a deep woodsy smell and some kind of citrus. Lemon, maybe. Conquest wasn’t human. Did he even use cologne? That scent couldn’t be natural, right? What did the other one, the black-winged Angel, smell like?

“I believe those are for us,” Conquest said in his deep voice, the gravel rumbling through Atlas’s chest like thunder. “No need to panic.”

There were plenty of reasons to panic. And all of them had to do with the giant, hulking man still holding him. His attempt to pull himself out of Conquest’s grasp failed abysmally. He was a goddamn rock. Atlas wouldn’t be surprised if he had bruises where Conquest’s fingers dug in.

“What kind of organizational structure do you have left?” the one called Famine asked, pushing past them and into the briefing room.

Atlas would have turned around to look, but he was rooted in place, and he couldn’t budge even a little. Not even to retreat from the giant fucking spider trailing after Famine. He was so focused on it—and maybe a little on Conquest’s heat and smell—that he jumped when a head popped out from behind Conquest’s. Raziel. The beautiful Angel.

And Conquest’s… lover? Not confirmed, but there was a definite vibe even if they were complete opposites. And Conquest was much bigger than the Angel. No. Not something he was going to spend time dwelling on. Not one second.

“Hi,” Raziel said, beaming. It lit up his face, his features softening further like he was made of pure sunshine. His black hair, long enough to curl around his ears, flopped as he tilted his head, still smiling. He stuck out his hand. “This is how you do it, right? We haven’t been introduced properly. I’m Raziel.”

“You” as in humans? Atlas tried to shake his hand, but he was still fucking stuck. He could wriggle his forearms a bit, and his fingers, but not enough to lift them to finish the introduction. The hold was tight enough he was starting to lose feeling. He wanted to shake Raziel’s hand, see if it was as smooth as it looked.

“Don’t touch him,” Conquest all but growled.

Atlas bristled. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t. Did the asshole forget that he was holding him in a vise? “You planning to let me go?” he snarled. Could he lift his knee enough to get him in the balls? Worth a try.

“When I feel like it.”

Raziel pulled his hand back and tucked it around Conquest’s huge bicep, plastering himself to the side of his arm. “Con, let him go.”

A heartbeat later, the arms let go, and Atlas was free. He shook himself, blood returning, and stepped back with a scowl. “You’re late.”

“Are we?” Conquest asked mildly, nothing on his face to give away what he was feeling. He brushed past Atlas, his sheer presence overwhelming and stifling. The giant had to duck to get through the doorway.

Famine had made himself comfortable at the map table, two laptops open in front of him along with a stack of papers. Atlas looked at Thomas, who shrugged like he had no idea how it had happened despite being in the room at the time.

Atlas rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Who the fuck were these people? “All this information is classified,” he said to Famine. “Tell me why I should give you clearance.”

When Famine didn’t answer, Atlas slammed his hand down on the paper Famine was reading. Atlas had just about had it up to his fucking ears with the dismissals he was getting from these two.

“Tell me now,” he demanded.

Famine raised an eyebrow and then tugged the paper out from under Atlas’s hand. “We can kill every person in this room,” he said casually, “or not. You get to decide.”

Atlas automatically reached for his handgun. Not without a fight, they wouldn’t. He had too much to do, too many people to save—for Matty—to let himself be cut down by anyone or anything. He’d been ready to die when Conquest had hold of him, but he wouldn’t so easily be caught unawares again.

“All you need to know is that we’re on your side,” Famine said, unperturbed by Atlas’s offensive stance or that his hand was hovering over his holster. “For now.”

“And it’s lucky for you that we are because you won’t survive without us,” Conquest said bluntly.

“We’ll be just fine,” Atlas said stubbornly. He would make sure of it. He sure as fuck could use their help but not at the expense of his own morals or those around him. What was the point in winning if he lost his soul in the process? There was no point. A fight should be won fairly, or it shouldn’t be won at all. Only assholes resorted to dirty tactics to get ahead. And while he could be an asshole when the situation warranted it, he was doing his best to honor Matty’s memory. He’d deserved better than a rudimentary grave, surrounded by hundreds more, without enough time for a proper burial or a carved gravestone. Atlas would do whatever he could to make it right.

“You won’t be,” Famine said simply. “Do you have personnel in every building on base?” His mouth lifted in a half smile. “The ones still standing, of course.”

Atlas gritted his teeth. He turned his head, eyes locking onto Conquest’s gray. He was leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed. His thick, well-groomed beard on his ruggedly handsome face did nothing to hide his smirk. Atlas’s hand clenched, wishing he could lash out at all of them. Hated that Famine was right, at least in part.

Raziel flitted about the two rows of computers lined up near the far wall, peering curiously over the soldiers’ shoulders at their screens. They sent Atlas questioning gazes, unsure what to do with the Angel. Atlas didn’t know what to do with him either.

“General Brandt.”

Atlas looked back at Famine. He’d used his nonofficial title. Why? They both knew from his uniform that it wasn’t the right rank for him. That he was a fraud in so many ways, just trying his best to hold his small part of the world together.

“Do you have personnel in every building on base?” Famine repeated.

“Not all of them,” Atlas said finally through pursed lips. What other choice did he have but to cooperate? They hadn’t hurt anyone, and so far, their offer of help seemed genuine. They’d saved Atlas and his men out there, at the very least. They’d been overwhelmed and hadn’t been able to fight their way out. “We’re keeping civilians secure in one, sleeping barracks for another. One for supplies. One for coordination. One for loadout.” They hadn’t had supply issues since every day they had fewer and fewer people in need of them. There were more weapons than people to use them at this point.

Famine hummed in response and then looked down at his paper, flicking to one of the screens and pressing a few keys. “Can you condense that into four—no, three. Fairly close together, not scattered like you’ve currently got.”

“I scattered them for a reason,” Atlas argued, swallowing hard as his anger reached up and curled around his throat. This was his job , and he knew what the fuck he was doing. It had been a risk but a strategic one. And they had no right to come in here and take over, treating him like he hadn’t been the one holding this all together for weeks without them.

“And in normal circumstances, I would applaud your genius. War might not, but he’s the ‘general,’ not me. However, you have two of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse at your disposal, so I suggest you use us.”

Atlas frowned, heart sinking. He really would have preferred that not be confirmed. Why were they helping ? Wasn’t that the opposite of their entire purpose? They were the bringers of death. Not helpers.

“We can condense if we have to. Mind telling me why?”

“I can place protective shields to help keep the Demons out of your immediate area. However, it takes less energy to shield two or three buildings and in a tighter square. I need that energy in reserve, not wasted. You said civilians in one. How many have you rescued?”

“Not enough.” And too many at the same time. They were almost at capacity here and needed to move them somewhere else. Somewhere safe. He just hadn’t worked out where yet. Everything thus far had been reactionary and working out logistics like that was at the bottom of Atlas’s immediate concerns. They were safe where they were, and that was all that mattered.

Famine’s gaze swept over the map and then the room, sharing a brief look with Conquest. “I do wish War were here,” he murmured. “He’s by far the best strategist among us.”

“We’ll find him,” Conquest said.

Before Atlas could ask what the hell that meant, he was flagged down by Corporal Lance Rivet, one of the men whose screen Raziel had been peering at.

“Sir,” he said, rotating in his chair, headset over his ears. “We’ve received word from the team that went missing. No casualties, but they have two badly wounded and can’t extract safely. They’ve radioed for assistance. If we don’t send someone, we can officially mark them as MIA.”

Fuck . He might have asked how many there were, but it didn’t matter. Even one more soldier’s death was too many. They couldn’t afford to be throwing their military into the fray like fodder. For every civilian they rescued, they lost two men. At what point was it no longer worth preserving a life over others’ lives? These weren’t decisions that Atlas wanted to make. Even as an officer, he’d become a pilot for a reason. And that reason involved not having to make decisions like who lived and who died. Not beyond himself and whoever flew with him.

“I’ll go,” he said. He was already suited up and armed. “I’ll find enough men for a fire team and head there now. Thom, hold down the fort for me.”

Thomas didn’t look up from his screen. “You got it, sir.”

“We’re going with you,” Conquest said. “And I’m driving.”

“Will you even fit?” Atlas blurted. He closed his eyes in mortification the second the words came out. “I mean, why don’t you do your”—he waved his hand—“thing and get there by yourself?”

“And start the party without you? Mortals can’t travel through it, and I’d hate for you to think I have no manners.”

“Too late,” Atlas said dryly.

Conquest’s mouth tipped up, and Atlas might have been tempted to call it somewhat pleasant if the expression was on anyone else’s face. On his? Had to be a trap. When he pushed off the wall, Raziel immediately returned to his side like a magnet.

“Don’t worry, you’d be surprised where I can fit,” Conquest said, placing a possessive hand on the small of Raziel’s back.

Red spread across Raziel’s cheeks, bright on his pale face. The lover status was now also confirmed for Atlas, and it was more information he could have lived without. The fact that Conquest was more than twice Raziel’s size wasn’t his business. Nor was how they fit together.

“Fine,” Atlas bit out, shoving every inappropriate thought out of his mind. Or at least locking them way down deep. “Let me gather a team, and we’ll go.”

“No need, only the three of us will be going,” Conquest said.

Just the three of them? No fucking way. He needed a team and heavy firepower. “We don’t know what kind of resistance we’re going to encounter,” Atlas protested. “The aim is to rescue the team, not die alongside them.”

“If it’s something I can’t handle, then I deserve to die,” Conquest said, arrogance dripping from every word. “If time is important, then you might want to hurry up.”

Atlas hated everything about today. He’d known when he’d fallen out of bed first thing that morning, after barely two hours of solid sleep and smacking his head on the bunk above him, that it was a bad omen for things to come.

“Well, let’s fucking go, then.”

He knew he was going to regret everything about this. Tenfold.

Raziel tripped over his own feet for the third time since they’d gotten out of the military vehicle—Humvee, according to the information Raziel had gotten from touching the side of it. The tripping wasn’t his fault. The human—Atlas—was fascinating, and Raziel couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone quite so beautiful before, like he was cut from marble by the most gifted craftsman. The rest of him was also… nice to look at, like a painting in a museum, or a statue in front of a building. Raziel liked climbing those statues. He didn’t think Conquest would let him climb this one.

Raziel peeked at Conquest, walking beside him. He’d slowed his steps so that Raziel could keep up without having to run—a far cry from when he’d once tethered them together and forced Raziel to run or be dragged—with an angry expression he’d had pretty much since they’d met Atlas.

Atlas, who was more than a few steps ahead of them, shoulders squared in determination.

They’d abandoned their transport a few blocks back, when the roads became impassable. The plan—that Atlas had outlined on the drive here—was to find the soldiers, dispatch their enemies, and escort them home. The plan had changed to “escort them back to the vehicle for transport,” but it all amounted to the same thing. Kill, rescue, leave. As good a plan as any, really. Raziel could fly anyone who was injured if needed, and Conquest would keep everyone safe while they herded them. Easy.

Raziel tripped for the fourth time—this time it was at least because there had been some rubble sticking up awkwardly, and his toe had caught on it. Atlas glanced back at him suspiciously. Raziel beamed at him, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

Conquest grabbed Raziel’s elbow and hauled him to his side, halting them in the middle of the street. “Do you need a lesson in walking, baby Angel?” he drawled. It sounded like a casual question, but there was something unnerving in his gaze that gave Raziel pause.

“No?” Wait, that sounded too much like a question. “No,” he said more firmly. He knew how to walk. It wasn’t his fault things kept getting in the way.

“Is he wearing something of yours?”

Raziel was ready for this one. “No.” Besides, any of his clothes would be too small for Atlas, who was taller and bigger than him. Not anywhere near Conquest’s bulk but definitely bigger than Raziel by enough that clothes swapping was out of the question.

“Are you sure?”

“… yes?” His voice wavered without his permission. He was sure, but the glint in Conquest’s eyes was making him nervous.

“What is going on here?” Atlas asked, joining them. “Why are we stopping? Did you sense something?” He surveyed the buildings around them, hands tightening on his weapon.

“Go sit there,” Conquest said, pointing to a random bus bench nearby that, while broken, kind of sat at enough of an angle that it wasn’t implausible to find rest on it.

Atlas narrowed his gaze. “Excuse me?” The words seemed more like a challenge than a question, and Raziel bit his lip, glancing between them as tension rose.

“I didn’t stutter,” Conquest said. “Wait for us there, and don’t move an inch until I tell you that you can.”

Both of Atlas’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, who do you think is in charge here?”

“You think it’s you?”

“It’s sure as fuck not you,” Atlas replied. “I let you come along, and that means I’m in charge. We’re not at the destination yet, and my men are relying on me to get there to keep them alive. So we keep moving. Now.”

Conquest did move, only it was closer to Atlas, hovering over him with a menacing aura that made Raziel shiver and wrap his hands around himself. Atlas didn’t flinch, chin lifting in defiance, a silent snarl twisted on his lips.

Raziel had never met anyone like him before. Not anyone that was human anyway. Plenty of Demons had taken their shot with the Horsemen, thinking they were the one that would finally take one of them down. A ludicrous thought and one they eventually regretted. Atlas, though, he stood toe to toe with Conquest as if he had multiple lives to lose.

“You let me,” Conquest repeated dangerously.

“You invited yourself along, remember? I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Perhaps you should have.” Conquest wrapped his hand around Atlas’s throat before he could respond and lifted him off his feet until they were almost eye to eye. Atlas immediately kicked out, digging his nails into Conquest’s hands at the same time. “Would you allow your entire species to die simply because you’re a stubborn idiot who won’t accept how weak he is?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Atlas choked out, still squirming in Conquest’s grip. Fighting without surrender.

“Put him down, please,” Raziel said, tugging at the back of Conquest’s armor. They could hardly have a rational conversation like this.

“Why should I?” Conquest asked lazily. “It would be far more entertaining to crush his throat and leave him here to choke on his own blood.”

Would it? That wasn’t Raziel’s idea of a good time, and he didn’t want Atlas to die.

Atlas sneered even as he rested one booted foot on Conquest’s abdomen. “Do it, then.”

“You have a severe lack of self-preservation, Atlas . And it’s going to get you killed, I guarantee it.”

“You aren’t going to kill me.”

Conquest lifted him higher, above his head, like he was getting ready to toss him. Atlas’s foot slipped off Conquest’s chest, and he couldn’t do anything but hold onto Conquest’s wrists and dangle there. Raziel wanted to interfere, but what could he do? Conquest wasn’t listening anymore. Something about Atlas was raising his ire.

“No?” Conquest asked. “And how are you so sure of that?”

Raziel’s lips parted, hand clenching at his side. Atlas hadn’t done anything to deserve Conquest’s anger. He was trying to protect people that he cared about. Raziel could understand that. He would fight fire with fire if it meant keeping Conquest, and his brothers, alive. Atlas was in a position of power, and he cared about the people under his command. That was a commendable action, not a condemning one.

Atlas’s blue eyes darted to Raziel, and Conquest turned his head, following their direction. His lips tipped up in amusement. “Think he’s going to save you?”

“No,” Atlas wheezed. “But if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Conquest dropped Atlas unceremoniously, and it took considerable skill for Atlas to land on his feet with only a little wobble. Raziel, at least, was impressed. He would have fallen on his ass. Had a time or two, in fact. Especially when attempting to get off Victory, Conquest’s huge mare.

“Have you ever seen a cat play with a mouse?” Conquest asked conversationally, stepping close enough that Atlas was forced to crane his neck to keep eye contact. “The cat lets the mouse go, and the mouse thinks it’s free… until the cat drags it back. And then it lets the mouse go again.” Conquest splayed his hand over Atlas’s throat and tipped his chin up even further with the pad of his thumb. “And again.” He pressed his palm down enough that Raziel could see Atlas struggling to swallow around it. “And again.” He leaned down, his nose almost touching Atlas’s. “I’m the cat, and you? You’re the mouse.”

Atlas’s lips trembled, flat in anger, the steady thrum of his pulse visible just below Conquest’s hand.

“Raziel?” Conquest crooked his finger, and Raziel moved closer on command without thinking. “He’s the cheese.”

Conquest lifted Raziel to the tips of his toes, taking his lips in a bruising kiss. A breathless moan escaped Raziel as Conquest took control and owned him. He reached up to Conquest’s armor, fingers hooking into the edges, and then used the hold to haul himself up and closer. A strong arm wrapped around his back and crushed him to Conquest’s chest, securing him in place. Raziel happily gave in, relaxing and letting Conquest do whatever he wanted. He would always let him do whatever he wanted. The fact that Conquest was still holding Atlas, albeit around the neck, did something to Raziel’s balance that he wasn’t willing to acknowledge or think about.

By the time Conquest lowered Raziel back to his feet, he was dizzy with lust, his knees buckling as soon as he hit the ground. Conquest kept hold, helping steady him as he adjusted to being in his own body again. Conquest consumed him until he forgot his own name, let alone how to use his limbs properly.

He couldn’t help but turn to look at Atlas, who was also still in Conquest’s hold. Red spread across his cheeks, darkening the two beauty spots and moving down his throat, disappearing underneath Conquest’s hand. His hands were fists at his side as he looked away with a scowl. But not before Raziel had seen the hunger in his eyes.

From watching them?

“Are you two about done?” Atlas said through his clenched jaw. “We have more important things to be doing.”

“Do we?” Conquest asked with amusement. “You didn’t ask for our help, remember?”

Atlas’s jaw worked before he said stiffly, “Fine. Fucking stay here, then.” He was gone around the corner of a building in the next moment, his boots thudding heavily on the concrete.

“Is he… is he coming back?” Raziel asked.

“I doubt it,” Conquest said, a brief smile flickering on his face. “Prickly bastard.”

“Your disposition needs a little work too,” Raziel pointed out. It wasn’t as though Conquest was being very friendly himself.

“You’re getting very mouthy lately.”

Raziel grinned. “Am I?” Conquest was mistaken. Raziel embodied obedience. He wouldn’t ever think to challenge Conquest, not the way Atlas did. He was far too content resting under Conquest’s wings and being protected. So to speak. While he didn’t have any wings, the principle was the same. His arms were big, though. Definitely a wing kind of span. That counted.

Raziel cleared his throat. “We should go after him.”

“He doesn’t want our help.”

Conquest wouldn’t ask for the help either if the situations were reversed. Raziel could hardly blame Atlas for refusing when Conquest had been less than hospitable. His behavior wasn’t inspiring fondness or trust. “He needs it.”

Conquest tipped up Raziel’s chin. “He fascinates you.”

“He fascinates you too.” If he didn’t, he’d already be dead. Raziel loved his Horseman with every piece of him; that didn’t mean he was unaware of who Conquest really was, or that he fooled himself into thinking Conquest was a good person. He was aware how easily Conquest killed, how effortlessly he did it, without regret. Raziel might have been the one to ask him to let Atlas go during their first meeting, but if Conquest had really wanted him dead, nothing would have stopped him.

There was something about the human that they both found fascinating. He walked like he had nothing to lose while at the same time he protected himself like he had everything to lose.

Conquest lifted his head suddenly, body tense and alert.

“What is it?”

“Demons just dropped in.”

“Dropped in?” Weren’t they already here, attacking the very soldiers they were here to rescue? Were more coming?

“Behind us. They’re not looking for the soldiers.”

Atlas . Raziel bolted forward, sprinting in the direction Atlas had gone. Were they here for him? Why ?

No one around the corner. Or further down the road. Most of the buildings around them had collapsed, with only a few still standing. Raziel darted into the first one, yelling Atlas’s name, heart in his throat as he searched for some sign of their human.

No answer. Why didn’t he answer?

“Have they gotten to him already?” Raziel asked, twisting around to where Conquest stood casually in the doorway. “Where would they take him? We have to find him.”

“They haven’t found him.”

He sounded so sure. Raziel’s thumping heartbeat told a different story. “How do you know?”

Conquest took a step into the building. “Do you hear gunfire?”

“No?” There was a hint in the distance, likely the soldiers that were defending the place where they were holed up. But nothing close enough to be Atlas. He couldn’t have gotten that far. What did that have to do with anything?

“Doesn’t seem the type to lie down and die without fighting back, does he?”

“That’s not funny.” He wasn’t dead. They couldn’t have failed this spectacularly at keeping him safe, not so soon.

“I’m not the funny type.” Conquest crooked his finger, and Raziel bounded down the steps and straight into his arms, taking comfort in their warmth. “He went through the next building over, using it as a shortcut; he knows these streets better than we do. He’s fine. Moving at a normal pace, without any spikes of adrenalin, which would happen if he’d been attacked.”

He sounded so sure that Raziel faltered. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“I can sense auras, remember? He’s Angel-born, so his is like a beacon. I’d know he was near even if I didn’t want to. If he thought he could ever hide from me, he’s wrong.”

Atlas was Angel-born? Was that why Raziel sensed a familiarity in him? Because they both had a touch of Angel in them? Raziel was half Demon, but Atlas had been born to be an Angel. Had a right to that status even more than Raziel did.

“Is that why the Demons are after him?”

“Most likely. His scent would be a sweet aphrodisiac for them.”

Would it? What did Atlas smell like?

“Fly to him and stop him from going further. I’ll meet you there.”

“What about the ones we’re here to rescue?”

Conquest tilted his head, concentrating. “The Demons haven’t managed to get through their defenses. Surprising. We still have time to get there, don’t worry.”

Raziel kissed Conquest’s cheek. “Okay. I love you.” He ducked outside, spreading his wings and pushing off into the sky. After so many years of wishing that he was strong enough to grow them, he would never tire of the feeling of the air whizzing past as he flew high. It was pure unadulterated magic, a breathless moment of perfection that he’d never thought he would experience. It was all a dream: getting his wings, having someone love him so completely.

He spotted Atlas easily, moving through the rubble, his weapon swiveling as he checked his surroundings. Stiffness in every step, anticipation of battle. So ready to take on the world. More than prepared to continue going it alone if Raziel and Conquest left him here.

Brave. A little bit reckless. A true warrior.

Raziel spread his wings further, using them to glide through the air as he headed straight for the black mop of hair. Atlas sensed him coming, looking up at him before he landed gracefully in front of him.

“Hello.”

Atlas frowned. Though he did dart a look at Raziel’s wings, lingering on them. Raziel preened a little under the attention.

“Hi,” Atlas eventually said. He went to move around Raziel, but Raziel stepped to the side, blocking his way. “What are you doing? I don’t know what kind of sick game you two are playing, but I have a job to do, and people’s lives are on the line. Every second that I’m stuck dancing to your tune is one less second that they have.”

Raziel worried his bottom lip. “Conquest said they were okay, and we would get to them in time.” His lover wouldn’t lie, not about something like that. If he said he’d help, then he would help. If he were going to sacrifice them, he would have just said so.

Atlas shifted uncomfortably. “How could he possibly know that?”

“He can sense things,” Raziel said simply.

“Like a medium?”

“Like a what?” Conquest wasn’t medium, he was large.

Atlas’s forehead wrinkled, and then he shook his head. “Never mind. Let me through, please. If they die because I was too busy talking to you…” His nostrils flared, and he gripped his weapon tighter. “I have to be better than that.”

Why? Because he was their leader? No one was infallible. What drove Atlas’s determination? “I promise you that they’re safe right now,” Raziel said. “We’ll rescue them, and everyone will be fine. We have time.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

Raziel shrugged, his wings rising and falling with the movement, the tips of his bottom two dragging on the ground. “I don’t know. I want to help. I’m trying to help. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Atlas hesitated, then relaxed his shoulders. “Is there a reason we have to stop right here?”

“Waiting for Conquest.” He shouldn’t be far away now. Raziel hadn’t had to go far. If Conquest summoned Victory, he could move even faster. He hadn’t yet. Whether he was deliberately hiding her from the humans, Raziel had no idea. Famine hadn’t called for Justice either. Where did they stay when the Horsemen didn’t call for them? What was War’s mare, Feud, doing while he was missing?

Atlas nodded. He looked around them, lips pursed, shifting from one foot to the other and doing the same with his weapon as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “Your wings are beautiful,” he blurted out.

Raziel beamed, warmth spreading through him at the compliment. “Thank you. It took me a long time to get them.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Atlas said, focus now solely on Raziel. There was something intense about it that took Raziel’s breath and made his heart speed up. Atlas’s eyes were so pretty, bright like morning dew.

“An Angel isn’t born with their wings. They train, and when they’re powerful enough, and have developed their Gift, their wings sprout.”

“Like a plant?”

“I suppose that’s not inaccurate?” The analogy worked if put in the right context. It took time for an Angel to develop their wings just as a plant did to grow its leaves. Now all he was going to think about next time he brought out his wings was daisies. Or sunflowers. He liked how bright and yellow they were. Like sunshine in a flower. He’d seen humans pluck their petals when making a decision, which seemed like such a waste of their beauty. Why destroy such a happy thing just because they were indecisive? It didn’t make any sense. Like the children that had built sandcastles on the beach, only to destroy them once they were done.

“What is a ‘gift’?” Atlas asked. “They get a present from someone?”

Raziel’s wings fluttered as he laughed. Atlas’s gaze flickered with something unrecognizable, something that had the sound catching in Raziel’s throat. “No, not like that,” he said, attempting to compose himself. “It’s the power that all Angels have, their Gift. They come from the Archangels.” Raziel’s hadn’t, but that was a story for another time. “Once they harness their Gift, their wings come out. I spent a hundred years trying to get mine.”

Atlas choked on nothing. He coughed and then cleared his throat. “Did you just—a hundred years ? You’re over a hundred years old?”

“Give or take a few years. I wasn’t always counting the time.” It might have been closer to one hundred and five? Time was hard, and in a place like Heaven, where he’d been abandoned and left to pass the time alone, it was even more difficult to keep track of. “We’re Immortal. Age isn’t really… we don’t age like mortals do. Once our bodies are at their peak physical condition, they stop… growing, I guess?” Another plant reference. It wasn’t the right way to explain it. He could only go by his experience. Not a lot was written about it, and why would there be? It was an ingrained instinct in all Angels. Except that Raziel wasn’t like any other Angel in existence. Technically, he wasn’t one. He’d been born from a Demon’s blood. Wasn’t even really his own person.

Atlas looked Raziel up and down slowly, blue eyes darkening a fraction as he did. It felt like a physical caress as if Atlas was using his fingers instead to map out every inch of him. Intimate in a way it shouldn’t have been.

“You look good for your age.”

Conquest suddenly appeared behind Atlas, sliding a hand around the back of his neck, leaning in to press his lips against his ear. “What have I said about looking at him?”

Atlas’s skin was warm under Conquest’s fingers, his pulse point thrumming unsteadily under his grasp. He felt the shiver run down the human’s back. Fear or something else? Considering the way his aura spiked, darkening with a swirl of heaviness, Conquest would go with the latter.

“I can’t just not look at him,” Atlas said tersely. “I have eyes.”

“I can fix that.” The blue shade of them was uncannily like Raziel’s. With none of their warmth. He was anger, and vinegar, and ready to throw down at anyone who so much as looked sideways at him.

Had he come out of the womb swinging? How was he Angel-born? They were always so disgustingly pure and mind-numbingly boring. They earned their wings long before they received them.

Of course, once an Angel got their wings, that’s when their real downfall began. The list of Heaven’s Angel-born sustaining that purity was rare. So much so that Archangel Michael was the only one that Conquest could think of that had ever existed. Their arrogance and self-importance inflated, thinking they were somehow more special than those who had to prove their place in Heaven. Elevated to a status that allowed the sins to creep in, changing their very core.

They started Angel-born and became something far, far worse.

Other than the aura that shined like a beacon around him—even with the unusual color—Conquest hadn’t found a reason why Atlas had been chosen. He wanted to peel him open and see what was inside and behind those eyes. Find answers. What made him tick? What was in his heart? What made him so hard and yet still given the status of Angel-born?

Atlas yanked out of his hold. Conquest allowed it, this time. “You think because you’re so—so”—he gestured at all of Conquest—“big and powerful and what-the-fuck-ever that you can just say and do whatever you want? You can’t control who or what I look at, asshole.”

“I can because you’re nothing, Atlas Brandt. You think you can make a difference, when in reality, you’re an insignificant ant crawling in a world already gone.” Even if Lucifer didn’t complete whatever he was here to do, if he left the world alone and allowed them to rebuild after all the destruction he’d wrought, Conquest and his brothers were here to finish them off. When the Apocalypse came to completion, there would be nothing left. Not his soldiers trapped in a building. Not civilians huddling and begging for someone to save them from the monsters that roamed the streets. Atlas would die, and it wouldn’t make a difference. The world he was trying so hard to save was already lost. It didn’t matter how hard he fought, or how many he rescued.

“I don’t believe that,” Atlas said fiercely.

“Sheer stubbornness doesn’t change the truth.”

Atlas rose up on tiptoes, not managing to get quite as tall as Conquest, but making the stance menacing all the same. “Fuck. You.”

Conquest should kill him for that. Allowing anyone to speak to him that way was asking for their disobedience to grow. If he let it go, they might even start thinking they were better than him. A mistake.

“You couldn’t handle it,” was all Conquest said before stepping around him, leaving him gaping at his back. “Raziel.”

His Angel caught up easily, small hand slipping into his, wings brushing against Conquest’s back with every step, the steel-like tips a pleasant sting on the exposed areas around his armor.

Atlas swore, a creative word that Conquest doubted was meant for their ears. “You’re not leaving me behind!” he growled at them, jogging to catch up.

“Then walk faster.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Atlas huffed under his breath.

Conquest slowed down only because Raziel was struggling to keep up. His five-foot-four frame was no match for Conquest’s height.

Atlas shot him a suspicious glance as he fell into step beside them, like he was just waiting for Conquest to speed up and leave him behind. An amusing thought.

It didn’t take long to reach their destination, the gunfire getting louder as they neared. A small horde of Demons gathered around a building, some of them staying back while others attempted to scale the building, bullets ripping through them before they jumped off and back to their friends. If they’d only wanted to kill, the soldiers would be dead. No, they were playing with prey.

Atlas surged forward, and Conquest fisted his shirt, gathering the fabric in his palm and tightening it across Atlas’s chest. He tried to pull away from the hold keeping him in place, but whatever strength he thought he had, he didn’t. When he moved, it was only because Conquest allowed it. When he breathed , it was only through Conquest’s grace. And Raziel’s kindhearted request.

“Rushing in there will only get you killed,” Conquest said. “Be smarter than that.”

“Get your fucking hands off me. We’ve wasted enough time with your bullshit already.”

“On the contrary.” Conquest used his free hand to pull his glaive free, twirling it in his hand as he poured his Power into it, wrapping it in his energy. Atlas’s eyes widened a fraction as he stared at the swirling purple. “We’re just in time.” He pushed Atlas back, who staggered from the force of it, and then towered over him. “Stay here.”

“And what, jerk it while I wait for you?” Atlas snarled.

Conquest glanced down to his groin, where, if he wasn’t mistaken, Atlas was at least at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow mockingly. “If that’s what you want to do.” Could he kill them all before Atlas was finished? An interesting challenge.

“I’m going with you.”

There was that stubborn tilt to his chin again. “No.”

“I wasn’t asking .”

“And I wasn’t giving you a choice. The longer you argue with me, the higher the likelihood that your comrades are going to die. You wait here like a good boy, or they die. Those are the only choices you have available to you.” Conquest wrapped a hand around his throat, forcing his chin up. The defiance in his eyes was delicious, and there was something about having this man under his thumb that fed Conquest’s need to dominate. “Tick tock, Atlas.”

Atlas gritted his teeth, his cheekbones somehow sharper when he was angry. “I’m going with you. Or I’m going without you. Either way, I’m going .”

So brave. So stupid. “How much help do you think you’re going to be to me? When you get killed, you become dead weight.”

“Guess I’ll have to make sure I don’t die, then,” Atlas replied loftily. He shoved Conquest’s shoulder as he went past, gripping his rifle and easily traversing the rubble.

“I like him,” Raziel declared. He spread his wings and glided over the mess instead of attempting to walk over it.

Conquest stroked his beard, watching them from afar as Raziel easily caught up to the temperamental mortal.

A few of the Demons turned, finally noticing that backup had arrived. One of them darted right at Atlas. Atlas shot at him, aiming for the knee in order to slow it down. Smart if he were dealing with a regular enemy. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. This Demon was too quick, too practiced at the art of a quick kill. No matter how powerful the human, a well-trained Demon was always going to be better.

Conquest sent out a burst of his Power and flung the Demon away, slamming it into the nearby wall. It hit the brick so hard it exploded, leaving pieces of itself on the surface, blood and sinew, among other unsavory things, spattering over the ground.

Atlas glanced behind himself, eyes meeting Conquest’s for a timeless heartbeat.

Guns weren’t completely ineffective, but cutting a Demon into pieces was a much quicker way of getting rid of them. Conquest readied his glaive and caught up with them in a few long strides, cutting the head off the nearest Demon. Raziel sliced through some with his wings as he flounced around, sticking close to Atlas.

Atlas switched to a blade and a handgun, simultaneously dealing headshots and slitting throats. His determination and drive kept him going when most would have fallen. Regardless, he still wouldn’t last without assistance.

Conquest grabbed a Demon behind his neck right before it could lodge its claws into Atlas’s back. He buried the handle of his glaive into the concrete at their feet so he could use his hand to rip the Demon’s spine out with a clean yank. He ripped off its head for good measure before discarding it.

Atlas grimaced at the display. “Was that necessary?”

“I could have just let him kill you. Would you have preferred that?”

Atlas was already moving away from him even before he’d finished the question. He dodged the swing of a Demon’s tail and a blade trying to slice him vertically and jammed his own knife into its forehead, ripping it out as he shot another in the chest twice and once in the head.

Conquest smirked and followed more leisurely behind, swatting the Demons like flies. All of them were lower-level scum, not worth his time. Without a challenge, the fight bored him. Why were only the bottom-feeders out? What game was Diablo playing with the humans? If he’d wanted to kill them all in one sweep, he could have. All it would take were some of the more monstrous creatures he’d bred in Hell, and he could have massacred every single human in existence until they were nothing but a memory and a stain on the ground.

It didn’t take long to rid the area of the pathetic Demons, pieces scattered around the ground and blood coating all three of them. The sight of Raziel covered in the thick red liquid had Conquest’s dick thickening. He wanted to fuck his Angel, still wearing the signs of a battle well fought. Atlas didn’t look too bad either, a streak of red across his cheek, some of it in his dark hair, only visible because it was dripping onto his shoulder.

“Ah, get it out!” Raziel said suddenly. He danced around, turning in circles, a grimace of pain on his face. His six wings twitched as he moved. Trying to dislodge something? “Get it out, get it out!”

“Get what out?” Atlas asked, rushing to his side in wide-eyed panic. “Let me see. Raz—stop. Would you hold still?”

Conquest scowled when Atlas held Raziel’s inner left wing steady under his fingers. They were no one’s to touch but his.

Instead of ripping those hands off the way he wanted to, he studied Raziel’s face and the way he was looking at Atlas, a hint of wonder in his big eyes as he instantly stilled under Atlas’s touch.

The black wing spanned further than the length of Atlas’s arm. He was gentle as he spread the wing across his forearm, caressing the feathers in a way that was completely unnecessary.

“What am I looking for?” he asked, glancing up at Raziel with a softness Conquest wouldn’t have believed him capable of.

“I don’t know,” Raziel answered. “It just hurts. Please get it out.”

“I can’t see anything. Raziel, hold still . If you keep moving, I won’t be able to find it.”

Conquest slid a hand across the top of the wing. “Did someone injure you, Raziel?” He hadn’t noticed any of them get close enough to do any damage. If he’d known, he would have taken his time to kill them, made them scream and beg for mercy.

“I don’t… think so? No one hit me with anything. It feels more like a… prickle?”

“Oh, I think there’s something—” Atlas cut off, face twisting in concentration. The tiniest hint of the tip of tongue pushed out between his lips as he tilted his head, his fingers disappearing underneath black feathers. One of the tips cut across his skin, and he still didn’t stop, his focus solely on whatever he was looking for. It was a good thing that Raziel wasn’t dripping his acidic poison, or Atlas would be in a lot more pain.

“Did I give you permission to touch him?” Conquest growled.

“You wanna do this, big guy?” Atlas asked, looking up at him through his eyelashes. It was ridiculously sultry, considering the circumstances. If he thought he was subtle, he wasn’t. “Your hands are a lot bigger than mine. You’re a hammer.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Atlas obviously had a death wish, and Conquest was more than happy to oblige anyone with those kinds of dreams. Had he forgotten he’d just watched Conquest pull a Demon’s spine right out? He wasn’t a one-trick pony, and he could do it again.

“You’ve never heard that saying?” Atlas bent down, peering as he carefully brushed across feathers, fingers sweeping across Raziel’s jet-black wing.

“No.” It didn’t sound like he wanted to. He doubted it was flattering.

“To a hammer, everything looks like a nail. You know, brute force with no elegance.” His voice was absent as he continued searching.

“I suggest you stop talking if you don’t want me to break your neck,” Conquest said dangerously. One flick of his thumb and that mouth would never speak again.

“Touchy,” Atlas muttered. He paused, then moved his hand back a fraction where it had just been. “I think there’s something—”

Raziel hissed and flinched away from him.

Conquest bared teeth and fisted Atlas’s hair, yanking his head back and away from Raziel.

“Con, no, he was just—it hurts is all,” Raziel said, tugging at Conquest’s arm. “Please. It wasn’t his fault. He’s trying to help.”

Atlas didn’t struggle, keeping his head relaxed. His lips had curled into another snarl, a familiar expression. Those eyes… they were too much. What would it take to put real fear in them? Conquest wanted to find out.

“Be. More. Careful,” he warned before letting him go.

“If you keep putting your hands on me, we’re going to have a problem,” Atlas muttered darkly before returning to Raziel’s wing.

Did he think they didn’t already have a problem?

Conquest’s eyes met Raziel’s, and they stayed locked as Atlas skimmed fingers across his wings once more. Every so often, Raziel’s eyes fluttered, his lips parting. Conquest recognized that look. He saw it every time he touched Raziel, kissed him, fucked him.

Raziel liked it. Liked Atlas touching him.

Conquest tipped Raziel’s chin up with his thumb, searching his gaze. “To know what you’re thinking right now, baby Angel. Should I dive in and find out?” What would he find if he looked? What was Atlas making him feel right now? He didn’t want to know, and at the same time, it was the only thing he wanted to know.

Raziel’s throat worked, lips parting. “I—”

Conquest slipped his thumb into Raziel’s mouth. “Suck.”

His lips instantly closed around it, tongue flicking over the tip as he added suction. Heat flared in his blue eyes. Conquest dragged his thumb out, sliding it across Raziel’s bottom lip and then over his smooth jaw, wetting his skin.

Raziel grimaced and jerked, then relaxed. “Oh. That feels so much better,” he said, smiling at Atlas in gratitude. “What was it?”

Atlas straightened and held up— “It’s a… claw. Is that like the equivalent of a human splinter?”

“What’s a splinter?” Raziel asked. He shook the wing out and beamed at Conquest. “He got it out for me.”

“I can see that,” Conquest rumbled.

“Look!” He spread the black feathers out wider, presenting them to Conquest. Instead of touching them, Conquest ran his Power along them, swirls of his purple energy moving between the softness and caressing his sensitive inner skin. Raziel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he gasped, back arching just enough to satisfy Conquest.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. His perfect baby Angel. His .

Atlas took a step back when Conquest turned his gaze on him. The lust in his eyes needed to be destroyed until it was in shattered pieces on the ground.

“I helped him,” Atlas said, tensing as though readying for a fight.

“The only reason you’re still breathing.” Conquest sensed more Demons in the city, moving at speed in their direction. Something was drawing them here. Allying themselves to an Angel-born—who couldn’t hide themselves if their life depended on it—was a fucking chore and a half. “Time to get your comrades and leave.”