68

68


I hadn’t seen Gosto in days. And maybe that was for the best.

With distance came clarity. Strength. A firmer grip on my own mind.

I couldn’t say I was healed far from it. I still thought about him every time silence settled in. But at least I could shift my focus now. I threw myself completely into training with Fosco.

"You're doing great!" his voice rang out as another rock hurtled toward me.

Blindfolded, I stood dead center in the training room. Fosco paced the perimeter, launching stones at me from unpredictable angles. My task was simple hear it. Smash it. I hadn’t missed once, no matter how fast he moved or how hard he threw.

"That’s enough for now. Take off your blindfold," he said, and there was unmistakable pride in his tone.

I slipped off the black strap and grinned. “I’m getting pretty good at this and I didn’t even need a lightsaber.”

“A what?” he asked, blinking.

Oh. Right. "Never mind." I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck as I walked to the bench and grabbed a water bottle only to find him staring at me.

My brows rose. “What?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s just... impressive. The way you’re adapting to your powers. Remarkable, really.”

Warmth rushed up my neck. “T-thank you.”

He smirked. “Did I just fluster you?”

I tugged a strand of hair behind my ear, lips thinning. “I’m not... used to compliments.”

“Why not?” His gaze drifted slowly, unapologetically over me. “You’re sexy. You’re brilliant. I’d imagine men lined up to praise you since the day you were born.”

I burst out laughing. “Let’s just say life in the Mortal Realm didn’t exactly hand me fan clubs.”

He reached for my hand and guided me to sit with him on the mat. “Tell me.”

So I did. I told him about the car accident. About the orphanage. About the inexplicable things that kept happening around me at college. I spared him the deepest cuts, but the shape of the pain remained.

“Just... don’t laugh,” I said quietly.

Fosco’s expression didn’t shift. “Why would I? Only small minds shrink when confronted with something greater than themselves. They couldn’t understand you, so they cast you out. They were right about one thing you didn’t belong there. But not because you weren’t worthy. Because they weren’t.”

My lips parted. I wasn’t sure how to respond. “That’s... wow. Thank you.”

He shrugged like he hadn’t just knocked the air out of my lungs. “It’s the truth. I’m sorry you went through that. If we’d found you earlier, maybe things could’ve been different.”

A thought struck me. “How long were you looking for me?”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve been tracking angelic bloodlines for over twenty years. Every time we got close, something happened. The trail always went cold.”

My breath hitched. “You’ve been searching for Nephilims... since I was born?”

He nodded, then frowned slightly, lost in memory. “I even reviewed the files from every orphanage in your region. Strange... I found nothing. No trace.”

A wry smile tugged at my lips. “Depends on when you looked. The records in my orphanage were kept in the attic. That’s where the fire started.”

His eyes widened. “Did they ever catch who did it?”

I shook my head. “No one was hurt, and the place was so old the nuns barely pushed for answers. No one seemed to care.”

Fosco let out a dry, humorless laugh. “So the fire only destroyed the records?”

“Everything about my past vanished that night,” I murmured, the weight of it pressing against my chest.

His face darkened. “That might not have been an accident. Someone could’ve been trying to erase your existence.”

A cold shiver rolled down my spine. “But why? Who would want to hide me?”

“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “But I doubt it was for your protection.”

I rubbed my temples, overwhelmed by yet another shadowy threat hanging over me.

“The good news,” Fosco added, “is that you’re a damn good fighter now. You could probably kick that arsonist’s ass.”

A laugh escaped me. “Yeah… I probably could.”

Even as I said it, I felt that quiet gnawing return the sense that something was coming. My instincts stirred.

Another storm was on the horizon.

An hour after training, a servant knocked on my door and announced, in a tone far too formal for my taste, that Gosto requested to see me in his office.

I didn’t love the formality of it. But I preferred the sterile calm of his office over the suffocating intimacy of my room—where his scent still lingered in my sheets. Yes. The office was better.

I knocked and stepped in.

Fosco, Ermes, and Diamante were already there, their faces grim. It felt like I’d walked into a war council.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my gaze reluctantly shifting to Gosto behind his desk.

“It’s Gualtiero Pirozzi’s birthday tomorrow,” he said. “There will be a ball at the castle. They expect me to attend—with my fiancée.”

A chill traced my spine. I swallowed hard. “So... we have to go.”

Fosco sighed. “It’s not that simple. They’ll sense your power. And Gosto’s. Most won’t recognize you as Nephilim but they’ll know you’re something they want.”

My breath faltered. “Can we... hide it somehow?”

The silence that followed confirmed what I already feared.

“There is a way,” Ermes said, placing a silver-armed briefcase on the desk and flipping it open.

I stepped closer and froze.

Six large syringes gleamed inside, filled with liquid silver.

My stomach turned. “Those...”

“The same poison affects all angelic bloodlines,” Ermes explained. “Fallen or not. Three for Gosto, three for you. It’ll suppress your power for a few hours. Enough to get through the evening unnoticed.”

His expression tightened. “It will hurt. Badly. But the effects wear off in less than four hours. You’ll need to make your exit before that happens.”

I watched Gosto clench his jaw.

“I wish this wasn’t necessary,” he muttered.

I gave a faint, brittle smile. “It’s okay. You’ve done this before. I can handle it.”

He stood, rounding the desk to take my hand. “If it’s too much, I’ll go alone. I’ll find an excuse.”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

He studied me like he didn’t quite believe me. There was a question behind his eyes, some concern I couldn’t decipher.

This was the same man who nearly killed me when he drank my blood. Why was he suddenly worried about my pain?

Still, he held my hand his touch igniting the same chaos it always had.

I cleared my throat. “Is that all? If so”

“Stay,” he interrupted. “You should hear the rest of the plan.”

My eyes blinked in surprise. “You want me here?”

He nodded. “You’re part of this. You should know what’s coming.”

He guided me to the couch, sitting beside me rather than returning to his desk.

“The war begins in two days,” he said quietly.

Fosco leaned forward in his chair. “Our armies are in position. We strike in forty-eight hours.”

My stomach twisted. “That soon?”

Gosto nodded. “Gualtiero will see us as weakened at the ball. He’ll lower his guard. He won’t expect an attack the next morning.”

I turned to him. “And what’s my role?”

“You’ll remain here,” he said firmly. “Two hundred warriors will guard the estate. I want no accusations. No trail leading to you.”

My voice dropped. “Accusations of what?”

He hesitated. Then: “In two days, we will assassinate Gualtiero and his son. I will take my place as the rightful heir. And you... as my fiancée... will be named Queen of the Underworld.”