Chapter 48 Training Pits
Ryker’s POV
The training pits were empty, the basalt still radiating the day’s heat like a dying star. I stood on the upper ledge, my leather jacket open, the cold wind of Requiem doing nothing to cool the irritation simmering in my gut. I was watching the two figures move through the lower courtyard. Amaya and the Nephilim.
They were close—entirely too close for my liking. Their heads were bowed together over a book, their energies intertwining in a way that made my inner beast pace behind my ribs, claws out and teeth bared. Chiro was supposed to be a non-entity, a ghost haunting the halls of Salvation, but seeing him with her made him suddenly, violently relevant.
"He smells of celestial rot and human desperation," a voice drawled from the shadows to my left, sounding like cold silk.
I didn't need to look. Malik was there, his golden aura dimmed to a low, brooding simmer that mirrored my own. He was watching them too, his hands gripped so tight on the stone railing that the rock was beginning to spider-web and crack under his divine strength. The 'Saint' looked like he was about five minutes away from a very un-angelic meltdown.
"Jealousy is a sin, Saint," I smirked, though my own blood was boiling at the way the silver-haired whelp was looking at her. "I thought you were above such petty human emotions. Or does the Architect allow for a little envy when the prize is this tempting?"
"This is not jealousy," Malik hissed, his sapphire eyes fixed on the way Chiro’s hand was resting near Amaya’s. "The Nephilim is an abomination. He is a distraction from her path, a shadow that will dull her light. He will pull her into the same pit of despair that swallowed his parents. He is a contagion."
"Or," I countered, stepping closer to the edge, my eyes locked on the way Amaya laughed at something Chiro said, the sound floating up to us like a taunt, "he's the only one who actually understands what she's going through. He's a mirror for her, Malik. And she's looking into him and seeing something she likes. Something... kindred. Something that doesn't involve your litanies or my lessons. And that’s what really scares you, isn't it? That she might choose the 'mistake' over the 'masterpiece'?"
Malik finally turned to me, his face a mask of cold, righteous fury, but I could see the cracks in the porcelain. "He is a danger to her soul, Ryker. He represents the very chaos you take such pride in. If we allow this bond to deepen, we lose our influence over her. She will become unreachable."
I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound that echoed through the empty courtyard. "Our influence? You mean your leash and my cage? Let's be honest, Malik. We both want her. We both need her to be exactly what we envision. And this silver-haired whelp is currently winning the game without even trying. He’s giving her what we can’t: peace."
Malik looked back at the courtyard, his jaw working, his knuckles turning white. "He is a tool, then. If she trusts him, we can use that trust to guide her. We can use him as a bridge to pull her back toward the center."
"Spoken like a true politician, Saint," I said, leaning back against a pillar, my eyes narrowing as Chiro tucked a stray lock of hair behind Amaya’s ear. I wanted to jump down there and rip his arm off. "But be careful. Bridges can be burned. And if you try to use Chiro to get to her, she’ll smell the manipulation a mile away. She’s a brat, remember? She hates being told what to do, and she hates being managed even more."
I watched as Amaya leaned into Chiro’s space, her expression softening in a way it never did with us. My grip on the shadows tightened. I didn't care if Chiro was an ally or an abomination. All I knew was that Amaya Janice was mine—and if the Nephilim thought he could take a bite out of my prize, I’d show him exactly how a demon handles the competition.
"Let her have her fun for now," I murmured, more to myself than Malik. "The 'Broken' protocol gets harder tomorrow. Juda is going to throw everything he has at her. She’ll need someone to bleed on. And I’d much rather it be us than him."
Malik didn't answer, but I could feel the cold, possessive weight of his gaze joining mine. For the first time in an eternity, the Saint and the Sinner were in perfect, terrifying agreement.
Amaya wasn't going anywhere. Not if we had to burn the world down to keep her between us. And if Chiro got caught in the crossfire? Well, that was just the price of doing business in Salvation.
"Agreed," Malik finally whispered, his voice a chilling promise. "She stays. Whatever the cost."