Wings of the Fallen

Chapter 1

ELYSIA

The betrayal hurts more than the fall.

Wind whips past me as I plummet through dark clouds, my wings—my fucking wings—trailing uselessly behind me.

The right one hangs at an awkward angle, snapped by hands I foolishly trusted.

The left is in a little better shape, popped nearly out of its socket when they pushed me from the edge of Heaven.

The wind is relentless as I descend, making agony shoot through my body.

But the physical pain barely registers against the crushing weight of deception.

They did this.

My best friend. My boyfriend. The two people I'd trusted most in Heaven.

Lightning crackles around me, setting my feathers ablaze as my falling body picks up speed.

I scream as fire licks along my wings, the pure white feathers crackling and burning black.

The smell of torched feathers fills my nostrils, acrid and thick.

Smoke trails behind me as if I’m an asteroid as I fall faster and faster.

The pain is excruciating, yet distant compared to the suddenly hollow ache in my chest. How long have they been plotting this?

How many times has Serena acted like she was my friend, all the while fucking Michael behind my back?

I can still see her face, that perfect mask of innocence cracking into something wicked and cruel as she helped Michael force me toward Heaven's edge.

"You've always been so naive, Elysia," she'd said, her voice dripping with false pity. "Did you really think someone as important as him could love someone as bottom shelf as you? You’re fucking pathetic. You would have never amounted to anything, anyway, so I’m saving us all some time. "

Screams expelled from my lungs during the first few moments of my descent, but now my voice is nearly gone and I’ve lost hope. My wings are broken. I can’t save myself.

The ground rushes up to meet me through gaps in the storm clouds—dark forests, endless trees, their branches reaching up like claws ready to tear me apart.

It would be a fitting end. Perhaps it’ll hurt less than knowing I've been nothing more than an inconvenience to be disposed of, a barrier between two lovers who'd been sneaking around behind my back.

Every shared secret, every late-night conversation, every moment I thought was reinforcing our friendship—it had all been a lie.

Rain pelts my face, mixing with tears I can't stop. The moisture boils against my skin as I pick up speed, the air growing hotter the further I fall from Heaven. My white dress—now stained with ash and blood—lashes at my legs.

I close my eyes, accepting death while I wait for the inevitable impact. This is it. This is my ending. Inhaling deeply, I let myself feel my final breath.

Something solid slams into me from the side, knocking the air from my lungs. I flinch as strong arms wrap around me, catching me mid-fall. The sudden stop makes my head spin, but the arms hold me secure against a broad chest. Heat radiates from my rescuer, so intense it almost burns.

"Well," a deep voice rumbles above me, "you're not what I was expecting to find on patrol tonight."

I force my eyes open, but my vision is clouded by tears and ash.

Through the blur, I make out a stubbled jawline, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that glow orange like embers.

Tattoos that resemble lightning bolts decorate his tan skin, seeming to shift and move in the storm's flashing light.

He's impossibly tall, even hovering here in the air, and the arms holding me are corded with muscle.

A demon.

Of course. It would be my luck to fall right into their hunting grounds.

I struggle against him, but my wings scream in protest and my body feels like lead. Every movement sends fresh jolts of pain through my damaged wings. "Just... just make it quick," I whisper, my voice hoarse from screaming.

Death would have found me far more swiftly if he’d just let me fall. Now I’ll die at his hands. The unforgiving hands of a demon soldier.

His burning gaze travels over me, lingering on my mangled wings.

Something flickers across his face—surprise?

Sympathy maybe? But I know it’s not possible.

He's a demon. They're bred to hunt fallen angels like me.

That's what they told us in Heaven: demons are merciless hunters who delight in destroying fallen angels.

"Your wings," he says, his voice sharp, there’s a softness to his undertone. "Who did this to you?"

A bitter laugh escapes me. "Does it matter? I'm already dead." The rain is growing colder, or maybe that's shock setting in as it extinguishes my burning feathers. I can barely feel my fingers anymore, and black spots dance at the edges of my vision.

He shifts me in his arms, and I wait for the killing blow.

Instead, he pulls me closer to his chest. Heat radiates from him, warming me instantly and chasing away some of the chill settling into my bones.

His heartbeat is steady against my cheek, oddly rhythmic for a creature I've been taught has no heart at all.

"No," he says finally. "You're not dead yet."

My vision tilts as he turns, carrying me away from the storm.

I should fight. Should try to escape. But my wings are useless, my body broken, and honestly.

.. what is there left to fight for? Everything I've believed in shattered the moment Serena and Michael pushed me from Heaven's edge.

The life I knew, the future I'd planned—it's all gone now, scattered like ashes in the wind.

As consciousness starts to fade, I notice strange details. The gentleness of his hold, careful not to graze my wounds. The way his tattoos pulse with each lightning strike, as if responding to the storm around us. The scent of him—smoke and pine and something I can't name.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, but his voice seems to come from very far away. "We're almost there."

Almost where? I want to ask, but my tongue feels too heavy to form words. Too dry to use. Before I black out I see a flash of lightning illuminating his face. In that instant, his expression isn't cruel or triumphant. He looks... troubled. Concerned, even. But that can't be right.

Demons don't feel anything for fallen angels.

Right?

Darkness claims me before I can find an answer, and I slip away into the void, cradled in the arms of my enemy.