Chapter 17 The Present
Ifeel like the goddess of crows.
Like I could sneeze and my borrowed, tiny soldiers would attack Mark at my command.
That’s how much everything has changed in the blink of an eye.
Talon swings the passenger door open with a smirk and I climb into the black, unforgettable monstrosity of a car he won in a bet.
And just like that, the birds follow.
“I imagined it for the past five years,” I say once I’m seated and Nathaniel, Cassian, and Talon are in. “Seeing his face as I crumbled his perfect little life. Can’t believe we’re actually doing it.”
My heart drums so loud my ribs ache.
“Better believe it, babe,” Talon says, voice syrup and danger. “A thing like this won’t happen twice.”
“I know,” I whisper. “This is once-in-a-lifetime.”
“Last time I offered you revenge on him, you weren’t this sure,” Cassian says.
I think about that. Yes, I was scared then. But now there’s no doubt in my chest. Making Mark pay is what I want.
“We had a lot going on,” I say, enjoying the view as we pull away; a pair of crows cuts past the window, wingtip to wingtip with me. “Plus, I didn’t trust you guys as much.”
Regular people wouldn’t understand how huge this is: retaliating against someone who killed you.
The feelings are… messy.
I needed time to sort them, especially now that everything feels three times sharper than it used to.
But the dust has settled, a plan has been drawn, and there’s nothing stopping me now.
Absolutely nothing.
“Well, now you can trust that we’ll see it through,” Nathaniel murmurs. “You’ll get what you deserve. And so will he.”
The rest of the drive passes in silence. Talon needs it to outmaneuver the birds on the road, so I stay quiet. Still, my leg won’t stop bouncing. I couldn’t describe the depth of my feelings even if I tried.
Pain isn’t here, but I can feel him trailing behind us, using his powers to keep up while staying out of sight.
When we reach the pretty suburbs, we park two streets away. The crows don’t care about discretion, so they follow in a black ribbon, sliding from telephone wire to roof to garden fence to trash can.
And the guys? They’re more prepared than I expected, even after all the case files they’d shown me.
Talon opens the trunk and pulls out a battered metal detector. It’s made to look legit because he made it look legit. It has a couple of folding tripods, and a hard case. I eye him from head to toe, my gaze lingering on those foxy eyes and curved lips.
“You’re such a cheat,” I say.
He shrugs. “Takes one to know one.” Then he winks.
Nathaniel moves slower, the flash drive already humming in his pocket, his phone screen glowing with open tabs and uploads queued. He rolls his shoulders once, then starts removing his piercings. His eye contacts are already in, turning his milky white irises a light blue.
He transforms so completely that when a woman in her mid-thirties passes us on the sidewalk, she actually smiles at him. Smiles. As if she finds him friendly, safe, and normal.
If only she knew.
We cross the next two streets separately. Talon and Nathaniel take the shortest route, walking openly. Cassian and I loop around the long way, bringing the flock of crows with us.
Whenever a car passes or someone walks their dog, we throw our hands over our heads, pretending to be as startled by the birds as everyone else. I even fake a nervous laugh once, loud enough for a man with a golden retriever to hear. He hurries off, yanking the leash so hard the poor dog stumbles.
“They’ll talk,” Cassian mutters.
“Good,” I whisper back. “They’ll say the birds flocked to the willow tree. Most of them are religious. It’ll add to Mark’s ruined reputation.”
When we reach the street behind my grandmother’s house, the real game begins.
“We need to get onto the neighbor’s property and jump the fence. We’ll come out right behind the willow,” I say, a tingling curling in my belly.
I have to do it James Bond–style this time—no flickering in and out, no cheating the material world. Just good old trespassing, breaking and entering, and maybe some teeth-baring if I see Jessica first.
“Which windows have the best sightline to the tree?” Cassian asks without hesitation.
“His office and their bedroom,” I whisper. “You can see the yard clear as day.”
He grunts. “Alright.”
Under his lead, we cut across the neighbor’s yard and reach the fence. The crows follow, settling in the hedges, clumping along the roofline, and stalking the birdbath like they already own the place.
Cassian crouches, interlaces his fingers, and jerks his chin at me. “Up.”
For a second, I almost laugh. Me—the Grim Reaper who once walked between worlds—now being boosted like a delinquent teen sneaking into a pool. Still, I plant my foot in his hands, and he vaults me over.
I land silently in the mulch behind the willow.
My pulse thunders.
The tree. My tree. Those drooping branches feel more like home than the goddamn building.
Cassian drops down beside me, soundless, and crouches in the shadow. He doesn’t look at the tree. He looks at me and waits.
I swallow. My throat feels raw.
“This is it,” I murmur.
Right on cue, a loud knock echoes from the front door. Talon and Nathaniel. They’re here.
A pause. Then another knock, louder.
Cassian’s hand ghosts over my wrist. “That’s our cue.”
The plan is simple, no matter how many layers of archaeological reasoning Nathaniel dressed it in before we left. The guys draw attention at the door, and our bet’s on Jessica. Mark never leaves his office during work hours, especially not to answer something as trivial as a knock.
While they keep her busy, Cassian and I slip inside. We’ll split up. He makes some noise to lure Mark out toward the bathroom, and I wait. The moment Mark steps in and catches my reflection in the mirror…
Classic horror.
Now, the front door opens with the squeal of suburban hinges.
As expected, Jessica’s light voice carries even here, and I have to fight not to choke on that familiar cadence—her rehearsed politeness, all sugar and self-importance.
Then comes Talon’s voice: velvet and danger dressed as charm.
Nathaniel’s steadier, good-boy tone slots in behind him, scaffolding the act.
Perfect.
Cassian and I slip from the willow’s shadow to the house’s siding. My pulse is a staccato against my ribs, but when Cassian grabs my hand, it steadies. Just a little.
“Scared?” he murmurs.
I almost laugh.
“Terrified. Excited. High. I don’t even know the difference anymore.”
His grip tightens.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
And just like that, I believe him. His words slide under my skin like steel and silk both.
That’s the thing about Cassian: he might be a massive buffoon sometimes, but he makes everything seem simple.
Revenge is just another mission.
Objective, execute, extract.
He doesn’t wrap it in morality or poetry the way I do. To him, injustice gets punished. End of story.
I should take a lesson from that.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. His white eye glints in the porch light bleeding around the corner of the house. “Don’t let him see you shaking.”
“I’m not shaking.” My whisper is fierce, but it’s a lie. My whole body hums.
“You are,” he says flatly. “And that’s not right. He should be the one afraid, not you.”
The front-door chatter drifts. Jessica’s polite cadence curves upward like a question, Talon’s laughter syrupy and slick. Nathaniel steadies the conversation. I can’t tell if they’ve already brought the files out or if the scaring hasn’t started yet.
Either way, we should move.
But Cassian leans closer, close enough that I feel the heat off his skin. His mouth hovers by my ear when he says, “I’ll prime the motherfucker right. Put your big-girl panties on, Skye. Then we can take them off later and fuck, knowing we’ve cut your monster’s fingers off.”
Something in me jolts, like lightning running down the length of my spine.
I can’t help the grin that stretches across my face.
“You’re psychotic, you know that?”
His jaw flexes. A tiny smirk.
“I’ve been told that before.”
Yeah, right. By me.
We move.
Cassian moves first, a shadow flattening beneath the kitchen window before gliding along the siding toward the side entrance. The crows redistribute with a rustle, like silk being ripped. I can feel their attention pivot with me, but they don’t croak. Not yet, anyway.
Talon’s voice carries from the front, buttered up with that fake-credential confidence.
“—Ground-penetrating radar anomalies along the property line, ma’am. We’re with the university’s salvage unit. It’s pretty time sensitive.”
Jessica’s laugh tinkles, brittle and bright. “I’m sorry, is this about… a pipe?”
“Possibly a mound,” Nathaniel says, mild as milk. “If it’s nothing, you’ll have a charming story for brunch.”
Cassian’s hand brushes the back door. He hunkers, slips a thin wedge of metal from his pocket, and the bolt yields. The door opens an inch, then two. Air moves over us: floor cleaner, printer ink, male cologne, and I hate that I know the last one down to the brand.
We slide in.
The kitchen is back to its perfect state. There’s no mud on the floor, milk or the note I left for Mark the last time. I press my palm flat on the counter, and beneath it, memory hums.
I know I scared him back then. I just know it.
But there’s no sign now.
Instead, there are footsteps upstairs. They are slow and even, and I recognize them instantly. Mark’s work tread. The familiarity curdles my stomach.
Cassian turns, his mouth close to my ear. “Bathroom?”
“Upstairs. End of the hall, left. He uses the guest one when he’s on a call,” I whisper. “Mirror faces the door.”
He nods once, takes three silent steps into the hall, and melts into the corridor like a shadow. I angle the other way, skimming baseboards, and counting breaths.
One, two, three…
Don’t you dare tremble.