Chapter Twenty
CASSIA
I TAKE HALF a second to kick off my walking shoes and slip on my uncomfortable work heels before storming toward Aziel’s office. I’ve been waiting for this moment, and I won’t let it slip through my fingers. I have to strike fast.
Demons move out of my way, parting the moment they notice me. It’s in their best interest.
I don’t hesitate to shove open Aziel’s office door.
My eyes lock immediately with the bastard. Rexton stands opposite Aziel’s desk, the lying, conniving demon unfortunately alive and healthy. I was hoping to find a corpse waiting for me.
Rexton looks precisely as he did the last time I saw him. He’s fucking huge, easily towering several inches above me, and he’s unnervingly intense. His stare would put several of Aziel’s generals to shame.
I refuse to let it intimidate me, and I make a show of looking him over, sizing him up.
His black hair has been trimmed, probably for his wedding to Princess Amelia, and his black eyes are laser-focused on me. What has Aziel told him? Has my father warned that I’m out for blood?
Rexton shifts. I eye his frame. He’s muscular, but I’m at my full strength. I can pin him. I can force him to submit. I can make him cry. Beg. I can strip him of his dignity.
The people of Wrath will never respect him. I will win.
I take one step closer, then freeze.
Rexton is weak. Rexton is supposed to be weak.
Why the fuck is power rolling off him in suffocating waves?
It most definitely doesn’t belong to Aziel.
My father’s power doesn’t affect me. It never has, not even when I was a child, and I can think of only two people strong enough to have me wavering.
Both are generals in my father’s army, and I avoid them like the plague.
I take a step closer, self-doubt getting the better of me. I’m confident I can take the Rexton I met in Greed, but this man is at a different level. Is he stronger than I am? I can’t quite tell. We’re equally matched, for sure.
“How?” I ask.
Rexton faces me directly, giving Aziel his back. It’s disrespectful, but Aziel doesn’t seem bothered. That’s not a good sign. Rexton has been back for less than an hour, and already, he’s taking liberties most demons wouldn’t dare dream of.
“Hello, Cassia,” Rexton says. “How what?”
How are you so fucking strong? How did you hide your power for so many years? Did you have a tonic? Was it the same one David secured for me? It must’ve been something similar. Did Silas supply it for you? How did you kill Mammon? Was it fast? Did you make her suffer?
I have so many questions, but the answers aren’t important. Not now.
I don’t have time to waste. I have to destroy Rexton before he slithers his way into the minds and hearts of Wrath. I have to do it now.
I teleport behind Rexton, fully intending to grab and teleport him to the middle of downtown Wrath. Besting him doesn’t mean anything if there isn’t an audience to witness it, and downtown Wrath is the busiest place I can think to bring him to.
My plan almost immediately goes to shit.
I’m not sure how Rexton senses my move, but in the split second it takes me to appear behind him, he’s already prepared. His fingers close around the front of my throat before I have the opportunity to catch my bearings, and my back smacks painfully against the ground a heartbeat later.
Aziel does nothing to help as Rexton pins me to the ground with his hips, his hand still curled around my throat. I can’t fucking breathe, let alone teleport in this condition. I claw at Rexton’s hand instead, my legs kicking fruitlessly in an attempt to shove him off me.
It has no effect.
Rexton’s face is inches from mine, his mask of indifference remaining as he chokes me before my father. Before the King of Wrath. Before the man I desperately need to view me as strong and capable.
My anger boils, and power warms my limbs before flaring out. It’s so potent, it burns, and Rexton seems uncomfortable for a brief second before almost immediately recovering. I can’t break free. I can’t breathe. I’m losing.
I kick, but my legs meet nothing but air. I claw, but Rexton refuses to loosen his grip. I gasp for air, but my lungs remain empty.
I’m going to lose everything.
Tears well up in my eyes. They’re unwelcome and the absolute last thing I need right now. I attempt to blink them away, but it doesn’t fucking work. I’ve never lost a fight, not since entering adulthood.
My spats with my fathers don’t count.
The tears continue to build, and Rexton gives my throat a warning squeeze before vanishing. He does so before my tears leak out, saving me the humiliation of crying, but the damage is already done.
Rexton appears on the opposite side of the room. I should stop. I should regroup and plan. I should take a calculated approach. I can’t. My wrath is too powerful, too uncontrollable. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to.
I scramble to my feet, then teleport toward Rexton. This attempt isn’t meant to subdue. I aim to rip out his heart, to tear it from his body. I aim to kill him.
Fingers close around my throat, and I’m thrown onto my back just as before.
Rexton’s less gentle this time, and a pained whine slips from my throat as I slam against the hard ground. It hurts, and the back of my head smacks against the floor with a sickening crack.
If I were human, I’d be dead. There’s no doubt about it, and I already know I’ll have a pounding headache this evening. That’s a problem for later.
All I can think about is killing Rexton.
Fantasies of his death flash through my mind, each more gruesome than the last. I want to rip out his heart.
I want to tear through his organs. I want to split his fucking head in half, then slam it to the ground until he’s nothing more than fractured bones and mashed brain matter.
I don’t try to remove his hand from my throat. I don’t need to breathe.
I reach for Rexton instead, aiming for his eyes. I’ll rip them out.
He releases my throat just long enough to pin my wrists to the ground. I could teleport away, but there’s a good chance he’ll tag along with me. Freeing my hands isn’t an option, so I attack with my teeth instead. I snap them toward his throat, toward his esophagus, but I can’t reach.
What’s Aziel doing? Why isn’t he helping me? I’m his daughter, for fuck’s sake, and he’s sitting behind his desk watching another man pin me to the ground. It’s twisted, and I turn my head just enough to shoot him a dirty glare.
He refuses to look me in the eye. Coward.
“Are you finished?” Rexton asks.
He’s not even winded, and he’s still staring at me with that infuriating, emotionless look. I hate it.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
“Cassia?” Rexton repeats. “Are you finished?”
He tightens his grip on my wrists, forcing my attention to them. He’s going to leave bruises. People will see them. People will know. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let them know I lost control, that I fought Rexton and lost.
Was this his plan all along?
I try and fail to pry myself free. “Let me go!”
Rexton doesn’t move. I buck underneath him, but he’s too fucking heavy. How much does this man weigh?
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rexton says. “But I will.”
I spit, but the sight of my saliva dripping down his cheek provides no satisfaction. The only thing that will quell this inferno inside me is his blood. I need to see it pooling underneath him.
Rexton wipes his cheek with his shoulder, removing my spit. I search for his anger, anything I can potentially use to gain the upper hand, but he gives nothing. Who is this man? Did Aziel tell him this would happen? Did he warn Rexton of my attack and tell him how to defend himself?
Is everybody against me?
My throat tightens.
Rexton doesn’t pull away as the tears build, and he looks me dead in the eye as the traitorous moisture streams silently down my cheeks. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my shaky breath or wobbling lips, and I bite my tongue to prevent either from happening.
I can’t control the tears, but I can control everything else. It’s all I can do.
What feels like lifetimes pass, but it’s probably only a minute or two. It’s excruciating, and Rexton’s blank stare only worsens it. He may not show it, but I know he’s taking sick pleasure in this. Why wouldn’t he? He’s a Wrath.
My anger diminishes, replaced with shame. It’s hard to hold on to my hatred when all I want is to teleport to my bedroom and hide in my closet. I want to die. I want the fates to leave me the fuck alone.
“Are you finished?” Rexton repeats.
I wish he’d stop asking that.
Rexton shifts, pressing me further into the ground. “Shall I teleport us somewhere with an audience?”
No. Heavens, no.
I shake my head, ignoring the mind-numbing pain that explodes from the motion. A blinding headache is already forming.
“I’m finished,” I spit out.
The words are disgusting on my tongue. I know why Rexton wants to hear them. He wants to belittle me, to crush me, and it’s working. I’ve never felt so small. So weak. So useless.
Rexton teleports away, returning to his original spot by Aziel’s desk.
My legs shake as I push myself off the ground, and my arms aren’t moving the way I expect them to. I have a concussion—a bad one.
I turn, making eye contact with Aziel. He’s now standing, his hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t intervene. He let this happen to me. He betrayed me.
I give him a second to come to his senses, to realize what just happened and rip out Rexton’s heart himself. He could do it. Rexton is strong, but he’s no match for my father.
Aziel does nothing. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t defend me.
I’m his daughter.
He won’t see me mourn.
I muster up what little strength I have and teleport to Lust. Aziel will expect me to run home, but I don’t want to be found. David’s chateau looms above me, and I hobble inside and upstairs to the bedroom I’ve claimed as my own.
David’s not home, but several shadows spot me. They’ll go to him. He’ll come to me.
He’ll deny Aziel and Rexton entry into Lust. He’ll keep them far the fuck away from me.
Heavy, hot tears drop down my cheeks, and I angrily wipe them away before collapsing face-first onto my bed. I’m not bleeding, at least externally, but I might as well be. I’m on the verge of death, and I bury my face into my pillow with a pained whine.
Everything hurts. My head and back for obvious reasons, but my muscles ache from how hard I was tensed when Rexton had me pinned. I’ve never been so overcome by my anger and not been victorious, and my body is paying the price.
I count my breaths, steadying myself until a familiar incubus appears beside my bed.
“What happened?” Fingers sift through my hair, checking for injuries. “You’re bleeding.”
Am I? I didn’t realize.
David disappears, only to return a minute later with a cold, wet towel. He drops it onto my head, not bothering to be gentle. I wince.
“Don’t let Dad in,” I order.
“Which one?”
“Any of them.”
A moment of silence, then, “What about Mom?”
“No.” I don’t want to see anybody.
David hums. “Okay.”
“Rexton, too.”
“Who’s that?”
He doesn’t already know? I’m surprised. “A Wrath. He killed Mammon, and he did this to me.” I gesture to my head. “Don’t let him anywhere near me.”
David snorts. “When our fathers hear what he did to you, I highly doubt he’ll be breathing, let alone trying to find you.”
I wish that were true.