Chapter 2
“Look who it is.” Shaw’s deep voice moves through the wind. “You actually look like a ghost.”
“Geeze,” I respond. “Thanks, asshole.”
“A hot one, but an apparition nonetheless.”
Shaw Durante is another deadly assassin of the Lyre Order and a friend—no, family. He is the only one I have left, and seeing him nearly thaws my icy heart. He is ruthless, harsh, and willing to kill anything that stands in his way.
Or mine.
He’s also the only other person in the Lyre Order to take the blood oath from Lowell.
Sharing blood is sacred and not something to be taken lightly.
His brown, shaggy hair glimmers in the morning sun as he pushes off his car and strides toward me.
Shaw’s tall frame is toned and tanned from summer days, and his bright hazel eyes narrow as he closes the distance between us.
His cheekbones are well-defined, and his jaw is chiseled and sprinkled with facial hair.
Shaw’s shoulders are broad, which is ideal for carrying his white wings when he’s in his true form.
He’s devilishly handsome, and he knows it.
“I should have known they would send the trash to pick me up,” I say, raising my brow.
He stops in front of me with his arms still crossed and doesn’t respond. Instead, he assesses me from head to toe, employing his intimidation tactics to compel me to keep talking or to make the first move.
“I’m far from trash, honey. Let’s not joke.”
Shaw knows me well—better than I know myself—and he understands that this pressure won’t be effective on me.
“You don’t want to know how long it’s been since I last showered, Shaw,” I say, crossing my arms to mirror his stance. “But leave it to you to stare at me like a piece of meat.”
At that, he tilts his head back on his strong neck and laughs into the morning air. He quickly wraps both arms around me and pulls me into a warm embrace. I return the gesture and bury my head in his chest, taking in his scent.
“I missed you.” He pulls back with both of his hands on my shoulders. “You doing alright?”
“Sure aren’t.”
Shaw smiles. “How many friends did you make in there?”
“I made a friend named Marge and a few enemies.” I shrug. “It takes more than a little alone time to bring me down.”
He nudges my arm and turns, heading back to his vintage car, dragging me with him.
“Get in, babe.” Shaw opens the car door for me. “Lowell wants you back within the hour, and we have a drive.”
I slide into the seat and take a deep breath, letting the air conditioning surround me.
This all feels so odd—being in civilization again.
Honestly, being anything but a prisoner feels strange at this point.
I glance around, observing the clouds, a bird, a few guards entering the building, and the cars speeding down the nearby highway.
Everything is normal, and I realize that life went on without me. People went to work, the Orders functioned as usual, and no one—except perhaps Shaw—missed me.
Shaw shuts his car door, and the engine starts with a loud rumble that vibrates the metal frame.
“Did you miss her?” he asks, petting the steering wheel.
I roll my eyes and buckle my seatbelt. “Not at all.”
“Oh, you liar.” Shaw grins, putting the car in gear. “I know you missed this purr.”
The car slowly rolls forward as we make our way out of the parking lot and onto the busy street before us. The prison is nearly an hour away from the city, so Lowell wanting us back within that timeframe is both an obnoxious and near impossible ask.
I look in the rearview mirror and see the prison fade away as he speeds up—almost as if he’s trying to escape it, too.
Freed from my iron shackles, I sense myself coming back—like a long-lost friend.
The desire to become my true self pulls at me, and I’m eager to spread my wings, but I’ll hold back for now.
“You won’t go back there,” Shaw says, interrupting my silence, noticing my intense gaze at the vanishing building behind us.
I turn my gaze to him while he alternately watches me and the road.
“To prison or the Order?” I respond.
His hand tightens around the wheel. “I was talking about the prison, Mara.” Shaw glances at me. “We need you at the Order. You know you can’t leave, even if you wanted to.”
My lips form a thin line, and I nod. “You haven’t needed me for the past year, apparently.”
Shaw places both hands on the steering wheel at my statement, and I watch him shift in the seat.
“You know that isn’t true. We did need you. I needed you.”
The thing is, I don’t know if that’s true.
When I first joined the Order, those people were my entire life.
I thrived, trained, and worked hard to prove myself as a twenty-year-old nobody.
I was lost and angry, so honing my training skills came naturally.
I fought my way to the top, and now, twelve years later, I wonder if that was a mistake.
Shaw sighs. “I’ll stop pressing if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“This is the first time I’ve taken a breath of fresh air.” I cut my gaze toward him. “I just need a second.”
“Didn’t you just have enough alone time?”
I glare at him, and his eyes widen.
“I missed you, is all.”
“I missed you, too, Shaw.” I allow my gaze to soften. “A lot.”
He smiles, clearly feeling better at my slightly affectionate statement, and I lean my head against the seat.
I feel his hand fold around mine, and I squeeze it in response to his gesture.
The silence wraps around us like an uncomfortable hug, and I can tell it begins to eat at him.
One blessing and curse with him is that he can never be quiet, and at times like this, it’s a damned curse.
“So,” he starts. “Learn any new tricks in there?”
I narrow my eyes, signaling that my patience is thin, and he grips the wheel, releasing my hand.
“A few.”
Shaw watches me for a second, letting his thoughts swirl.
“Okay… I’ll stop, but I’m dying to know what happened in there.” He moves his right hand to my thigh and squeezes.
“Not now.”
Or ever.
He sighs. “I’m happy you are back.”
I give him a sarcastic smile and turn my head to look out the window.
I’m not ready to talk about the prison yet, but I know I’ll be forced to.
Lowell doesn’t allow secrets among his assassins.
The city in the distance grows larger, and the rural surroundings of the maximum-security prison begin to fade with each passing second as we move toward more populated areas.
The rural area in the rear-view mirror stretches for miles, creating a barrier between the city and the tranquility of simple living.
Although the prison is located on the outskirts of Halcyon City, a sense of peace pervades the quiet, open spaces.
Wildflowers grow spontaneously, and trees dot the grassy fields.
The Ren Order’s headquarters are somewhere out here in the vast expanse.
They call themselves the city’s peacemakers, yet choose to reside as far from the chaos as possible.
Fitting.
The exact locations of the Orders are known only within their groups, which has always made me feel perturbed. For centuries, no one outside has attempted to locate or infiltrate an Order they aren't part of, and that tradition remains unchallenged.
By the age of twenty, all angels and demons must choose an Order.
If they don’t, they risk becoming even more of an outsider—a Void—and are regarded as fair game to be hunted.
Demons of one Order can freely kill the Void angels and vice versa.
However, rumors of the Voids coming together to form their own Order have caused nothing but anxiety over the past couple of years.
They are wild, deadly, and desperate, which is a combination for destruction.
That’s where my Order comes into play. We receive assignments about who needs to be taken out—humans, demons, or Voids—and beyond that, I don’t ask questions. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is all tied together somehow.
Shaw and I ride in silence until the deafening hum of engines replaces the serene sounds of the countryside.
The vast spaces begin to close in, and concrete walls replace the grassy fields.
Instead of trees, tall buildings clutter the sky, obscuring my view of the white clouds.
Street signs, stoplights, and glass windows of all sizes fill my vision, and I immediately feel suffocated once again—as if I’m being encroached upon by the metal structures.
The mortals move about their busy lives, unaware of what truly transpires in the world around them.
As a half-human, I understand the allure of their existence—blissfully ignorant of the dangers that lurk around every corner—but as a half-angel, I can’t help but harbor disdain for them.
Humans are careless and unkind. Every day, they inch closer to the Grim who will take them across the black river, and I can't fathom how they can function knowing how fragile their lives truly are.
I have a life that is nearly immortal—another joy of turning thirty as a hybrid. Around that age, you begin to understand whether your lifespan will take after your human or immortal side.
I felt sick to my stomach as that birthday approached, realizing I would discover whether I had a short life or a long one. Not all hybrids are fortunate—Shaw is one of them. Though he possesses the strength, speed, and beauty of an angel, he will age as if he were entirely human.
The car comes to a stop at the traffic light, and I glance around an area of the city that is very familiar. The small shops lining the street were regular haunts for me: a hole-in-the-wall bakery, an upscale nail salon, and my favorite bar in the entire city—The Neon Sin.
“I haven’t been since you left,” Shaw says. “It didn’t feel right without you.”
I look in his direction and smile.