Chapter 264 Wings and Worries
(Adelaide & Caelum)
The sight of the red line around her ankle tightened something old and buried beneath her ribs.
Red.
Once before, it had been thread.
A thin cord wound around her wrist by hands that trembled with reverence and fear, the Elder’s voice heavy with prophecy as he marked her one of sixteen and sent her toward a fate no one pretended was mercy. She had stood in the village square with that thread biting into her skin, the weight of every watching eye settling on her like a target.
Marked for sacrifice. Chosen for death.
Prey.
The Devil had come for her then. And she had not gone quietly.
Her chest tightened now, breath catching before she forced it out in a slow, deliberate sigh.
This was not thread. It was flame. But the message felt dangerously similar.
Claimed. Contained. Watched.
Her fingers curled at her sides as memory and present blurred together. The first red mark had dragged her from her home, from the safety of anonymity, from the illusion that she could live small and untouched. It had told her she was meant to be hunted.
This one pulsed at her ankle, warm and patient, as if waiting for her to forget that she had already survived the hunt once.
She was not afraid of it. Not even a little.
But she hated it.
Hated the colour. Hated the familiarity. Hated the way it waited, patient and sure, like the first thread had—confident she would bend beneath it eventually.
Her jaw tightened.
Once, she had stood in the centre of her village and let them mark her because she had believed sacrifice was her only weapon.
She knew better now.
If Hell thought it could wrap her in red again and call it protection, it had misunderstood the girl who had walked willingly into the Devil’s court.
She had been prey once. She would not be prey again.
Not without teeth.
Her thoughts skidded back to Apollo. Her stomach twisted as uncomfortable realisation sank in. The kneeling had been a lie. It wasn’t for devotion. It had been a cruel calculation.
No. That wasn’t fair. Not entirely true. She had felt him. The softness had been real. The tenderness had been real. He did care for her. He had made that clear, in ways that left marks.
So what was this, then?
Fear. Possession. Jealousy. All of it, tangled together?
She replayed the moment he accused her.
You burn me for him.
The accusation had not been shouted. It had bled, raw and wounded.
Her gaze flicked toward Cael before she could stop herself.
He remained near the wall, one hand braced against the stone, shoulders rising and falling in carefully controlled breaths. Red crescents marred his throat, the grey skin already darkening beneath the surface. His shadow lay tight against his spine, unnaturally restrained. Though his breathing had steadied, his posture remained coiled, as if the fight had not yet left his body.
Had Apollo known?
About the kisses. About the too many moments that almost turned into more. About the way her heart kicked hard against her ribs whenever he stepped too close.
Her heart began to race.
If he knew—
She swallowed and cut the thought short. If he knew, Cael would be dead. No warnings. No threats. No speeches. Just dead.
Apollo had not hesitated when killing before. He would not hesitate now.
The logic steadied her, even as it hollowed her out.
He didn’t know. He couldn’t.
What she had shared with Cael had been stolen moments. Quick glances, stalled breaths, skin brushing skin in shadowed halls, kisses between the bones of stone walls. Apollo would have burned the chamber down if he had known.
The conclusion landed fragile and trembling, something she forced herself to believe. She exhaled slowly, willing her mind to settle where the truth waited.
He didn’t know. There was no way he could know. This was all about jealousy. Not being omniscient. Not prophetic nonsense. Just jealousy.
And that realisation lodged somewhere sharp and disagreeable. Jealousy meant he saw the possibility of losing her. Jealousy meant he did not feel secure. Jealousy meant he saw her as something that could slip away.
She knew that wasn’t possible. She was already too deeply bound to him now. Both in body and soul.
The leash pulsed faintly at her ankle. The irony of it almost made her laugh.
He feared losing her. So he bound her tighter.
Her shoulders rolled back, unthinking. And that was when she remembered.
Her wings.
They were still there.