Chapter 4 #2
A name I earned from my many assignments here at the Order.
It pierces me, because it isn’t something my father would be proud of.
This name has traveled far, terrifies many, and suggests that I am soulless, ruthless—completely hollow.
Angels of the Lyre Order know who I am, but to those outside the Orders, few recognize the face with the name.
I turn to face the angel who couldn’t keep their mouth shut.
A younger man stands before me—no older than twenty-five—and freezes.
I smile and walk toward him with a lethal grace, allowing my power to radiate off me as I teeter on the edge of unfolding.
I stop inches from his face and trace my finger along his chiseled jaw.
“Seems like you know my name?” I whisper.
His eyes grow wide, and he slowly nods.
“Mara,” Shaw calls from behind me. “Come on. Stop.”
I lean in closer to the angel and place my lips nearly on his ear. “Would you like me to show you how I received that name?”
The man stumbles backward, pressing his back against the wall as he shakes his head. “I didn’t know it offended you. I’m…sorry.”
Anger surges within me, and I realize it’s intertwined with shame from the weight the name carries. While we may excel at suppressing emotions, anger is the most challenging for anyone to master.
I tilt my head. “You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.”
“No, I don’t want that,” he responds, straightening. “Just back off.”
I lower my head and stare through my lashes at him. He’s new to the Order—I can tell by his fresh face. He hasn't encountered many situations yet, and maybe he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut before it gets him killed.
“Back off?” I huff a laugh. “You’re joking.”
Shaw walks up beside me, and I glance down, noticing the handgun in a holster on his belt.
My muscle memory has me reaching down in a flash, undoing the snap, and grabbing the gun.
I press the barrel of the gun directly under the man’s jawline, slowly disengaging the safety.
The cold metal must sting as I apply more pressure, and he coughs as it digs into his throat.
“What the fuck?” The angel yelps.
“Don’t ever let me hear you call me that again.”
The young man’s brown eyes go wild, and his chest heaves as if I’ve already fired. I run my finger along the smooth trigger, feeling the power surge through me like a drug, but I never apply the pressure I so desperately want to feel.
“Christ, Mara,” Shaw yells. “Put the gun down.”
I see red as fury rises in a tidal wave. I see everyone I’ve killed, and if I’m as soulless as they say, what’s one more notch in my belt? I grip the gun tightly—as if it’s fused to my hand—the weight a familiar feeling.
“What kind of idiots are they letting in the Order these days?” I snap, glancing at Shaw.
His hand moves to my shoulder. “You look fucking insane right now.”
I shrug and open my mouth to speak, but I pause as the hairs on my neck stand on end.
“Mara Castten,” a thundering voice claps from the stairs.
Lowell Lyre descends the steps, his large wings trailing behind him like he’s floating, and the room silences.
Angels quickly move out of the way, taking shelter in their rooms while pretending to be busy—anything to avoid drawing attention to themselves.
And here I am, pointing a gun at someone’s head in Lowell’s house.
“Lower the gun,” Lowell growls. “Immediately.”
I hesitate, but the pull of the bond has me following his instruction, lowering the gun as slowly as possible.
Shaw is there immediately, taking the weapon from my hands and holstering it on his belt.
Shaw grabs my arm and pulls me closer to where he stands, as if he is about to shield me from Lowell.
“Not even back for twenty-four hours, and you are already trying to kill people. In my own house?” Lowell’s angelic voice echoes around the room for all to hear. “If you are that eager for an assignment, you should have just said so.”
I huff a laugh.
Lowell steps off the final stair and places his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Cris?”
His calmness and kindness send an unsettling wave through me, and I keep my gaze focused on Lowell, watching his every move—as if a bomb is seconds away from exploding.
“Head to my office, Cris. I’ll be there in a moment to check on you,” Lowell says, patting the man on the shoulder.
Cris hesitates and looks at me one last time before heading slowly up the stairs toward the office. Lowell turns his gaze to Shaw and me before smiling. His twisted grin spreads across his entire face, showcasing his handsomeness. Yet behind his euphoric gaze, something sinister lingers.
“Someone offended you, Mara?” he asks, walking toward us.
“Something like that,” I respond, tersely.
Lowell narrows his eyes. “I see.” He pauses, running his hands through his beard. “You never did take kindly to backtalking, did you?”
I don’t respond because I know he’s taunting me.
“We were just leaving,” Shaw interrupts, placing his hand around my wrist, desperate to escape this situation. “She lost her temper for a moment. That’s all.”
“That’s the second time today you have interrupted, Durante.” Lowell slowly pans his gaze toward Shaw, and my body goes rigid. “I suggest that habit stops now before I handle it myself.”
Shaw tenses and lowers his head in respect. “Yes, Elder.”
Lowell leans closer to him, lifting his chin so their eyes meet. “And I suggest keeping a tighter grip on your fucking gun, or you’re likely to be the one shot.”
My heart sinks, knowing I let my anger get the best of me.
What else is new?
“Why did you ask Cris to go to your office?” I ask.
The fury leaves Lowell’s eyes as he looks at me. A smile softens his face. “He is new to the Order. I want to check on him, and of course, make sure he understands our rankings here. That’s all.”
A wave of dread fills me, knowing that Lowell is about to do anything except make sure that man is alright.
“Sure,” I mutter.
Lowell looks around, feeling the stares of the remaining angels in the room around us. “Everyone, return to what you were doing. The show is over, and they are leaving. I apologize on their behalf for the commotion.”
The angels begin to move again, rushing to their duties or away from us—I’m not sure.
“Miss Castten, you need to be cautious about getting into situations like that outside of your work, especially before we have reassessed your skills after your little… sabbatical. Such combat without training could end fatally for you.”
I huff. “I doubt I would be the one to end up dead.”
“Right.” He glances at the door behind us before stepping closer. His presence thickens like a dense fog, and I inhale sharply as he leans toward my face. “Mara? I can assure you I don’t allow idiots in my Order.”
I nod.
“You two best be off.” Lowell’s expression changes in a flash to an unsettling calm.
I don’t hesitate for a second, taking Shaw’s hand and bounding toward the door, but for the life of me, I can’t understand why he is being nice. In the past, he would have punished me faster than I could react. But then again, he needs me, and I know it.
“Mara,” Lowell calls as my hand touches the door, seconds away from freedom. “I very much look forward to tomorrow and evaluating your skills.”
“As do I, Elder,” I respond.
He bows, and I push forward. He speaks one last time, but clearly doesn’t expect a response. He only intends to ruffle my feathers, knowing the fears that taunt me.
“Careful of the Grim.”