Chapter 41
RHI
“Her soul belongs to me,” Nick snarls, his claws again protruding from his hands. “It is half of mine. You have no claim on her.”
The girls have now joined us, yet despite our favor in numbers, I have a sinking feeling none of us are a match for the Angel of Death.
“She was stolen from me and given to you,” Azrael argues, his eyes a menacing crimson. They slide over to me. “You were Fated to me first, before those fickle sisters changed their minds, and now, I will collect what is mine.”
“I am not yours.”
Azrael narrows his eyes, now wholly black. “Continue to defy me, and I will lay waste to this entire room.”
Lucifer laughs. “My son and I cannot be killed. Do as you wish.”
“No!” Nick and I both shout at the same time.
“Take me,” Nick offers as I stare at him in bewilderment. Even Azrael raises a brow.
“Why would I want you?”
“You can’t have her, but if you take me, neither can I. Surely, that will placate you.”
Azrael shrugs. “It is a start. Besides, your soul is worth thousands. The Almighty would be pleased.”
“Touch my son,” Lucifer growls, “and your maker will have to contend with me.”
Azrael appears to consider this. Nick again argues to sacrifice himself, and my head pounds with the constant bickering of the men around me. The only thing I know for certain is I can’t lose him again.
I won’t.
My fingers dance along the hilt of the dagger on my thigh, my chess brain turning over words and information I’ve gathered during my time in Hell. Quietly, I march forward and position myself between Azrael and our group.
“Rhi, what are you doing?” Nick asks.
Ignoring him, I face the Angel of Death with my dagger drawn and pointed towards his heart. “I will never love you. You might take me, but my heart and soul will always belong to him. Do you understand that?”
“Rhi—” Nick grinds out, but he’s quieted by Lucifer.
“I don’t want your love,” Azrael quietly answers, eyes shifting to a demure periwinkle.
“Your lies aren’t as potent as your threats, Reaper.
” Azrael winces. “You don’t want my love—you need it.
It’s what you feel the Fates cheated you out of, and you believe I can love you because, as you claim, I walk in your shadow.
” I glance back at Nick before returning my stare to the Angel of Death.
“There is only one man I will ever love. There is no one else. Not for him. Not for me. In this life or the next.”
Azrael arches a pale eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Did I stutter?”
A snarky chuckle that sounds like Zo’s rings out behind me.
A slow, eerie smile splays across his mouth. “I have changed my mind. It is no longer your soul I wish to claim.”
Dread sits like a brick in the bottom of my stomach.
He nods in a general direction over my shoulder. “Choose.”
“What do you mean?”
“Choose, Rhiannon. Who gets to leave with you? The man you love, or…” His icy fingers clasp my shoulders, turning me. “The girls you love. Possibly as much, if not more, than your soulmate.”
Azrael lifts his hands from my skin, but the chill lingers. He might as well have plunged his sword through my chest. My gaze darts between Nick and the girls, whose mouths hang open in shock.
My heart feels as though it is being squeezed by a tight fist. My breath is held hostage in my lungs as I struggle to remember how to breathe.
How can I choose?
“It’s ok, Rhi,” Scar’s soft voice calls out. “Choose Nick. You’ve fought so hard for each other, and you’ve fought for us as well. You deserve to be happy.” She smiles at her brother. “You both do.”
“No,” I whisper as tears streak my face.
“She’s right,” Zo nods, though her voice shakes. “You’ve sacrificed your happiness time and again. Let us do this for you.”
“I can’t.” I don’t recognize my own voice through my shuddering sobs.
“You can,” Nick says, golden eyes calm and filled with adoration. “Death himself could never stop me from loving you, Rhi. Give yourself and the girls the chance to be free of this place, of him.” His gaze sears through Azrael. “Choose them, sorceress.”
I collapse to my knees, the dagger falling from my palm.
“Time is ticking, Rhiannon,” Azrael taunts. “Choose.”
The sapphire hilt sparkles, rays of blinding light breaking through the veil of my tears. I lift my gaze to Astrid and Scar, their entwined hands trembling.
“You’re soulmates, the two of you. I thought you should know that.” Astrid’s own stunning blue eyes widen, and Scar lets out a strangled sob. I then shift my attention to Zo and B. “I hope you both find the happiness you deserve, and I hope it’s with each other.”
“Rhi,” Zo begins warily. Nothing gets by her. “What are you doing?”
Finally, my gaze rests on Nick, on his raven-black hair and eyes like twin pools of fire. I close my eyes, thinking back to the moment when I first saw him and everything that led us here.
My left fingers wrap around the hilt of the dagger, and I drag it into my lap, closing my right hand around the hilt.
“Rhi,” he gasps. Nick steps towards me but is halted by Lucifer’s firm grip on his shoulder.
I hold Nick’s horrified, pleading stare.
Trust in us, I send to him.
“You are all the best parts of me, the best parts of my soul,” I say out loud. I hover the blade over the left side of my chest, the deadly, sharp point in line with my heart. “It’s yours now.”
Nick breaks free from his father’s grip and races towards me. One of the girls screams, and Azrael shouts “no!” but it’s too late.
I plunge the dagger straight into my heart.
Nick
The world falls away as every single one of my senses zeroes in on the body crumpling to the floor, the dagger I gifted her falling from her hand as her grip loosens and her body goes limp.
Lifeless.
Everything seems to move in slow motion then. It feels as though I exist outside myself, watching another version of my body kneel before her, moving the curtain of hair that covers her face, witnessing the thin stream of blood trickling from her lips.
Her chest remains still. No breath falls from that beautiful mouth.
It has to be a joke. Some sick, fucking joke.
My fingers brush her cheek, her olive skin paling, her warm flesh growing cold beneath my fingertips.
Scar falls beside me, her hands coming to Rhi’s side as she tries to stir my wife awake. Zo collapses on my other side, screaming, her fingers hovering over Rhi’s face like she can’t bring herself to touch her, to confirm what I already know.
Rhi is dead.
My wife is dead.
The other half of my soul is gone.
My breath seizes in my lungs as my brain lassos around that fact.
I wait for my own heart to slow, to stutter until it finally ceases to beat now that its purpose for beating lies lifeless before me.
Yet, the obstinate, traitorous muscle does the exact opposite, pulsing with such ferocity, I swear it’s trying to escape my ribcage.
I clutch the left side of my chest, willing it to cease, to just fucking stop. Doesn’t it understand? My reason for breathing, for existing, no longer breathes life of her own.
Her laughter echoes. Her touch lingers. I can still fucking smell her.
What sort of cruel torture is this?
My gaze snaps to the reason for my torment, my soul-shattering heartache. Azrael stares with a peculiar expression, eyes narrowed. He seems perplexed rather than disturbed or crushed that the woman he felt belonged to him took her own life rather than choose between me and her friends.
Black creeps into the edges of my vision.
It’s not blinding—just enough to swallow the rest of the room whole and keep Azrael the sole focus of my rage.
The Beast beneath my skin snarls, aching to be unleashed once more.
But I don’t need him, not when my wrath crests like a storm-ravaged wave, ready to engulf this entire room, this entire realm in my savage fury.
There are only a handful of those who have tried to kill the Angel of Death. Tried and failed, of course, but those were mortals. Weak men.
Not a god, one fueled by heartache and rage—a devastating combination—and one with nothing to lose. Because she was the only thing worth losing, and he took her from me.
I rise slowly, my focus lasered on the Angel. The air in the room shifts, lethal currents crackling and snapping as my power surges. My father had been approaching Azrael, but he stills, and the Angel of Death finally deigns to let that cold stare fall upon me.
The girls crowd my wife’s body, sobbing and consoling each other. Two other voices call out, trying to convince me to calm down.
Calm down? How the fuck am I supposed to be calm?
She said I was the best parts of her, of her soul, but the opposite is true.
She was the very reason the Devil himself knew love, found peace.
She was my Heaven on Earth. My Eternal Paradise.
Now, I’ll show everyone the Devil they know.
The one they fear. The one the mortals write horror stories about.
The one their priests and spiritual leaders use to instill terror.
Shouting erupts around me as the walls of the Throne room start to crumble.
The floor trembles, and my father turns.
He speaks to me, but I barely make out what he says.
My attention is centered on the Angel of Death, who now speaks to me as well.
Words like ‘soul’ and ‘feel’ drift across my mind, but I pay them no mind.
It’s too late for him to try and placate me with whatever bullshit he spews.
I am going to destroy the Angel of Death the only way I know possible: by razing this entire realm to the ground.