Chapter Twenty-One
CASSIA
IT’S TWO DAYS before I’m able to get out of bed without vomiting.
My head wound was worse than I initially thought. Demons are hard to kill, especially ones as powerful as I am. This isn’t the most severe injury I’ve faced, but it’s up there. Opening my eyes is agonizing, and the mere thought of eating has my stomach churning.
David force-feeds me soup on several occasions, most of which I can keep down. Not all of it, though. My first bite resulted in a dramatic display that ended with the need for a fresh change of sheets and a shower.
I wish I’d used this time to plan, but thinking is damn near impossible. Instead, I sleep, letting my brain heal. It’s a waste of time.
“Look who’s finally up,” David taunts as I patter into the kitchen.
He recently renovated his home, transforming it into a sterile building bathed in various shades of white. I hate it, and I give the kitchen a critical look before ripping open his fridge and pulling out the first piece of fruit I find.
“I’m starving,” I say, ignoring his snide remarks.
David hums. “I’m not surprised. Do you want your update now or later?”
“Now, I suppose.”
There’s no point in waiting. Processing information sounds beyond exhausting, but I’ve never shied away from a bit of suffering. Some might say I actively seek it out.
“Well,” David starts. “Aziel came by first, and then Silas and Mom, and then Gray, and then Aziel again. The Rexton you mentioned has made no appearance, but I’ve heard some whispers about him these last few days. The Wraths are smitten with him.”
I sink into the nearest chair. Already? It’s only been two days.
“Has there been any mention of our fight?” I ask.
“Nope, but I think it’s shitty that Aziel let Rexton whoop your ass.”
I agree. “Do any of our parents feel the same way?”
David hesitates. “It doesn’t seem so. I didn’t outright ask, but I believe they ultimately agree with Aziel’s decision not to intervene. Mom and Gray less so.”
I’m already being replaced. I thought I had more time. I thought my parents would be on my side, that they’d defend me. I thought somebody would fight for me, but that was wishful thinking. I’m alone in this. I suppose it’s better to discover that sooner rather than later.
David leans over his kitchen island, inadvertently drawing attention to his bare wrists. His bracelet has been removed. He’s no longer trapped within the Wrath and Lust borders. I’m the only one still being punished, and I eye David’s wrist before shifting my attention to my diamond-covered one.
“If I dislocate my thumb, do you think I could slide it off?” I ask.
“Unsure.” David cocks his head to the side. “Shall we try?”
I have nothing else to lose. I extend my arm, and David looks just a smidgen too excited as he grabs my hand, curls his fist around my thumb, and rips.
I scream.
The bracelet doesn’t come off.
David shoves my thumb back into place.
I scream again, sliding off my chair.
David peers over the counter at me. “Don’t be such a pussy.”
“I am not!”
I’m the Crown Princess of Wrath. I am not a pussy, and I fucking hate when David uses outdated human insults. He learned them from Mom, and they piss me off. Humans have always hated women, and their half-cocked slurs only prove that.
It’s precisely why I pretend my human blood doesn’t exist. David doesn’t have the same luxury with his brown eyes and freckles, but I do. I’m a spitting image of Aziel, and I look entirely demon. I’m as strong as one, too.
“If Wrath is proving to be too much for you, I’m always in need of an assistant,” David says.
I’m not going to dignify his statement with a response.
I cradle my hand to my chest, nursing my pulsing thumb before returning to my seat. What am I supposed to do now? Do I return to work and pretend my loss against Rexton never happened? Do I sit back and let him steal the life I’ve been working so damned hard to build?
“I’m going home,” I say. “Thanks for helping with all this…” I gesture to my head. “I owe you one.”
David already knows that. Our relationship operates best when our favors are tit for tat. I don’t do things out of the kindness of my heart, and neither does he.
I teleport home before David responds, mainly because I don’t care to hear whatever smartass comment he has to make.
My apartment is just as I left it, but somebody’s been inside.
There’s a lingering scent of cologne. I’d recognize it anywhere, and I suck my cheeks into my mouth as I head toward my liquor cabinet.
Wren knows where I store my private documents, and I crouch low to reach the small compartment built into the bottom of the cabinet. Something has been slid inside, and I ignore the pounding in my head and thumb as I maneuver it out.
It’s a thick manila folder. Pinned to the front is a picture of Rexton.
Wren works fast.
I follow his scent throughout my apartment, tracking his whereabouts.
Only once I’ve confirmed he didn’t enter my bedroom do I hobble to the kitchen, my heart racing as I drop onto my couch and dump the folder’s contents into my lap.
Pictures, government paperwork, hospital records.
The works. Everything I could ever need is here.
I begin with the hospital records. Demons are a hearty bunch, and there’s rarely a need to see a doctor outside of adolescence. Even then, our visits are periodic and mainly to ensure we’re growing as we should.
Rexton has more hospital records than I’ve ever seen. Maybe it’s because he was born a shadow. They’re weaker than most, unable even to take a physical form. I flip to a page in the middle, read the first few lines and eye the image attached, then set the records aside.
Rexton was abused. Badly.
I’m a bitch, but I have my limits. This is none of my business.
I set the hospital records aside, then move on to the government paperwork.
There’s nothing of interest here. A birth certificate ages him at one hundred and four, younger than I anticipated.
He gained an education through elite private schools, so he must come from a wealthy family.
His parents would have been devastated to give birth to a shadow.
I wonder if that’s why they beat him.
The words before me grow blurry as my headache intensifies, my brain upset with my concentration. I do my best to ignore it, but it quickly becomes impossible. I’m feeling significantly better today than I have these past two days, but I’m not fully healed. I need more rest.
My hands shake as I tuck the paperwork away and shove it back underneath my liquor cabinet. I’m not focusing, and I’ll look through this with fresh eyes after a small nap.
I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow, and I have no idea where I am or what time it is when I finally wake up. It’s discombobulating, and I take a moment to collect my bearings before checking the time.
Fuck.
I slept through the remainder of the day and most of the night. If I intend to return to work today, I have to leave my house in less than six hours. That should be enough time to read the remainder of Wren’s report.
My head no longer hurts as I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, and I take my sweet time cleaning myself before shoving an ungodly amount of food down my throat and settling back on the couch with the report.
I dump everything into my lap, set aside the hospital records, and get reading.
Five hours pass in the blink of an eye. I’ve read every page twice, making sure not to miss a single detail.
Rexton, for most of his life, has been boring as fuck.
He was nothing special until he met my mother, and the information Wren was able to collect on him grew suspiciously sparse during the war and the years immediately after.
Then he vanishes entirely, which I assume is when he snuck into Greed. I can’t for the life of me figure out how he managed to remain undetected in her kingdom for so long.
He left when I was a child, way too young to retain memories. Had I recognized him in Greed, I would’ve put two and two together and adjusted my strategy accordingly. I would’ve been the one to murder Mammon.
I return the file to its hiding spot and finish preparing for work, already planning my next moves. Forcing Rexton to publicly submit to me isn’t an option, and I’ve already lost Aziel. He chose his allegiance, and it isn’t to me.
He’s never believed in me. I’ve always known it, and the way he stood back and watched Rexton harm me only proved it.
It’s disappointing, but I won’t mourn the loss. I’m crumbling, and allowing myself to feel the pain of my father’s betrayal isn’t something I’ll survive. I still have my siblings, Mom, and Gray. They’re all I need.
Aziel and Silas are nothing to me.
I spend my last remaining hour making myself as presentable as possible. People are probably talking about my absence, and I don’t intend to give them any reason for concern. If Rexton told them what he did to me, I’ll deny it. I’ll say Rexton is lying.
He may have earned some respect by murdering Mammon, but I’ve worked closely with these people for several years. They’ll believe me over Rexton. They have to.
I check my reflection in the mirror by my front door, looking myself over one last time. Demons don’t wear makeup. It’s incredibly noticeable with our enhanced eyesight, and it rarely looks good. Unfortunately, that leaves no way to cover the exhaustion under my eyes.
At least my hair looks good. The strands cooperated with me today, and I’m wearing an outfit I’ve been complimented on several times. Valeria picked it out for me, claiming the blood-red color makes my dark features stand out.
I’m hoping it draws attention away from my face.
“Don’t be such a coward, Cassia,” I whisper to myself. “You can do this.”
The longer I hide, the weaker I’ll look. I’ve given myself enough time to recover, and even though I’ve learned virtually nothing useful from Wren’s report, there’s confidence in knowing Rexton’s background.
I know where he was raised. I know where he attended school and which subjects he excelled in. I know every apartment he’s ever rented and every job he’s ever held. It’s better than nothing.
I could teleport to the office, but I don’t want to over-exhaust myself. I’m still healing, and teleporting will drain me. I’d like to be prepared in case Rexton attempts an attack. I can’t let myself be vulnerable.
I step outside.
The neighborhood I live in is already bustling, which brings me pause.
Do I really want to do this? I could just disappear.
My bracelet ensures I can’t leave Wrath or Lust, but I could abdicate my claim to Wrath and live a simple life within Lust. The sex demons aren’t the worst. I much prefer the violent and abrasive personalities within Wrath, but I’m willing to give it up if it means the never-ending humiliation finally ends.
That would mean letting Rexton win, though. I can’t let that happen.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin, shutting my front door behind me.