Chapter 75 Danica
Danica
It’s impossible. Adrian. Standing here. Breathing. His familiar scholarly presence beside Lilith's designer-wrapped venom like some twisted before-and-after death photo.
My lungs seize.
Skadi's playground comes rushing back—the brutal battle where I fought the Einherjar, including Adrian's ghost. I'd stabbed his phantom form, watched him dissolve into mist. And now here he is, breathing and talking like the last time I saw him without his heart ripped from his chest. The mental whiplash is enough to make me question my own sanity.
Could Morgan have conjured some twisted illusion? No—this is too real, too precise. Every detail matches, from the way he holds himself like he's perpetually about to deliver a lecture to that slight tilt of his head when he's analyzing a situation.
Unless... fuck. The rift. The mystery person Lilith dragged back from death's door. Her new pet project—still bound to her will by blood and compulsion.
"Do try to remember your manners, Adrian darling," Lilith says with sugary venom as she taps his shoulder with one manicured nail. "It's dreadfully rude to keep an old friend waiting."
The silence stretches like pulled taffy until Emily's voice shatters it. "Jesus fucking Christ." Her eyes darting between us like she's watching a tennis match from hell. "Please tell me this isn't the same backstabbing bookworm who got his heart ripped out."
"It's quite good to see you again, Danica." Adrian's voice carries the same measured cadence, the slight professorial tilt that once guided me through ancient texts. "You're looking well. I trust your studies of the ancient codices have continued in my absence."
My absence. As if he stepped out for coffee instead of dying in my arms.
Memories crash through me like a tidal wave—Adrian patiently teaching me of the Dark Prophecy in his book-lined study, his quiet excitement when we discovered the crown's power, his devastating betrayal that cut deeper than any blade, his desperate plea for redemption, his final sacrifice, stealing the Soul Stone as Azrael ripped his heart from his chest, the tears I shed, the guilt I carried.
The taste of copper floods my mouth. I've bitten my tongue, trying to hold back the scream building in my throat.
"We should take our leave, sister." Bryn's voice cuts through the fog of shock, her warrior's instincts on high alert. Her tone carries the steel of a Valkyrie preparing for battle, even with only the abbreviated version of Lilith's greatest hits.
She's right. I need to get out of here before I unleash the maelstrom brewing inside me—before my power erupts and reduces this place to rubble and ash. The wind outside howls like a hungry wolf, and the clouds above have turned the color of fresh bruises.
"H-How?" The word scrapes past the lump in my throat, jagged and broken.
Lilith's smile curls like a knife's edge. "Oh, it's quite simple, darling." She leans forward, her voice smooth as silk. "The stone's power is truly delicious, isn't it? Adrian was always my priority, you know. After you got him killed, of course."
Her words slice through me, precise and cruel. I flinch as if she's struck me, the truth of it searing my heart like a brand—everyone who's suffered or died because of me. John. Mom. Dad. My birth mother. Adrian—a trail of bodies and broken souls, the price they paid for being caught in my orbit.
"And thanks to your little angel friend," Lilith's gaze slides to Seraphina with predatory delight.
"We have an abundance of celestial blood—enough to last quite some time.
" Her smile widens, revealing the edge of her fangs.
"So thank you, darling. Your contribution to my day-walking abilities is simply invaluable. "
Bile rises in my throat, acid, and rage mingling as the pieces click into place. She harvested Seraphina's blood during her captivity—And now Adrian too walks in daylight, both of them bathed in stolen divinity.
Seraphina's face drains of color, her golden eyes filling with tears that catch the light like trapped stars. Her fingers tremble against the table as she presses one hand to her throat, reliving the violation. The slight choking sound she makes slices through me like a blade.
I know that sound. I know that feeling—when someone takes the very core of what makes you you and twists it into something profane. When they steal your essence and use it against everything you stand for.
"What the hell do you want?" The words grind between my teeth like broken glass. My jaw clenched so tight it aches. The question hangs between us—redundant and inevitable all at once.
Our waiter approaches with menus clutched to his chest, his customer service smile faltering as he registers the electric tension crackling around our table. Lilith's head swivels toward him, her eyes flashing with something ancient and predatory. His Adam's apple bobs in a visible swallow.
"I'll—I'll check back," he stammers, backing away like he's just stumbled upon a cobra nest.
Lilith leans forward. "It's really quite simple, darling. I want Rhyland and the other half of that delicious stone you're hiding." Her lips curl back, revealing the hint of fangs. "If you don't deliver, well... poor Adrian will suffer again because of your stubbornness."
My eyes lock with Adrian's. Behind his scholarly composure, behind that familiar face I once trusted, I see it—the silent scream trapped behind his eyes—the desperate plea for rescue.
The invisible chains binding him to Lilith's will cut deeper than any physical restraint could.
His gaze speaks volumes; his lips cannot—Help me. I'm drowning in her darkness.
Something cold and determined settles in my chest. Lilith hasn't just stolen a body from the grave—she's imprisoned a soul.
Emily erupts from her seat, chair scraping against the floor.
"We're done here. We'll be in touch, bitch," she snarls, her voice low enough that only our table can hear the venom.
"Come on, Dani." Her fingers close around my arm with surprising strength, yanking me from the precipice of doing something catastrophic.
"I do so hope it's soon," Lilith purrs. "Time is such a precious commodity, isn't it?"
My gaze catches Adrian's one last time. His composure slips for just a heartbeat—revealing raw desperation beneath, a drowning man glimpsing a distant shore. Then Lilith's fingers curl possessively around his arm, and the mask slides back into place.
My chest splinters like glass struck by a hammer.
He's trapped. He's alive, and he's trapped.
The next moments blur—restaurant door, parking lot, car. Emily's colorful stream of profanity fades to white noise as she peels out of the lot, her knuckles bone-white on the steering wheel. Seraphina's quiet sobs from the backseat punctuate the tense silence like tiny daggers.
My throat constricts each breath a conscious effort. Words form and dissolve before reaching my lips. Adrian. Alive. Breathing. Walking. Trapped in Lilith's web like a fly. The impossibility of it crashes over me in waves, each realization more devastating than the last.
Adrian is alive.
Adrian is Lilith's prisoner.
Adrian needs me.
Adrian will die again if I fail.
The SUV screeches to a halt at the mansion's entrance, Emily bypassing the garage entirely. The grand house looms against the darkening sky, snow falling again. The windows glow with warm light that spills onto the snow-covered lawn.
Emily yanks my door open. "Jesus Christ, Dani, breathe," she orders, her voice rough with concern. "You're turning the same shade as my freaking hair."
The mansion door flies open before we reach the steps.
Rhyland fills the doorway. His powerful frame silhouetted against the interior light.
As we cross the threshold, I dimly register the transformation inside—garlands drape the staircase, twinkling lights wind through evergreen boughs, and a giant pine tree dominates the corner of the great room, half-decorated with ornaments scattered on nearby tables.
Rhyland's storm-blue eyes lock onto my face, pupils dilating as he scans for injuries. "Angel?"
His voice drops to that dangerous register that makes lesser beings tremble. He's before me in three strides, big hands cupping my face. "What happened?" The question rumbles from his chest like distant artillery.
I open my mouth, but no sound emerges—just a pathetic gasp of air.
Rhyland doesn't wait for answers. His arm sweeps behind my knees, lifting me against his chest as he carries me into the living room. The couch dips beneath his weight as he positions me in his lap, one hand anchoring me to him while the other tilts my chin up, forcing my gaze to meet his.
"Her pulse is racing like she's seen a fucking ghost," Emily snaps, pacing the hardwood. "Which isn't far off, considering—"
"She's in shock," Bryn interrupts, cutting through the chaos.
Rhyland's jaw locks, a muscle ticking beneath his stubble. "Tell me. Now."
The command isn't directed at me but at everyone else—the protective alpha gathering intelligence to eliminate a threat.
"Lilith," Emily spats. "That designer-label corpse ambushed us at Ray's." Her combat boots scorch the hardwood as she paces. "Bitch is fucking day-walking now, courtesy of premium angel plasma."
A soft whimper escapes Seraphina from her place on the couch. Lucian already there, holding her.
"Hey, hey, baby girl," he murmurs, his usual razor-sharp sarcasm melting into something gentle as he cups her face. "This clusterfuck isn't on your divine tab."
Seraphina's shoulders curl inward, tears tracking down her cheeks. "The drugs she gave me—everything was foggy—it makes perfect sense she would—"
Lucian pulls her against his chest, silencing her spiral with a protective embrace. The tendons in his neck stand out like steel cables as his jaw locks—the room temperature spikes with his barely contained rage.