Chapter 82 Chapter Twenty Nine
Valen positioned himself at the center — shirtless, surrounded by a radiant glow as Ezrah raised his gaze.
The eldest sin smiled. Pride incarnate.
“Spectacular,” he murmured, voice smooth as smoke. “You ended him so swiftly that I hardly saw the need to lift a finger. Why waste strength when Valen clearly intends to steal the entire show?”
Valen turned his head, eyes narrowing. “You always did enjoy watching more than acting, Ezrah.”
Ezrah reclined against a pillar of bone, looking maddeningly composed. “I watched,” he said, “because I wanted to see how far you’d go for the woman you love.”
Valen’s expression flickered — the faintest crack in the marble calm. Valen’s gaze flicked toward Salem, still trembling in his arms, her skin pale. A shadow crossed his face—something unreadable, dangerous, human.
Ezrah caught it instantly, his grin widening. “Fascinating. We’ve seen you take lovers before, Lust. Mortal queens, divine whores, that little nun—what was her name? Maria? Mary?” He waved his hand dismissively. “All fleeting amusements. You gave them pleasure, took your fill, and left them in ruin”
“But this one,” Ezrah said softly, “this one bends your nature. Makes you hesitate. Lust doesn’t pause to feel. Lust consumes. Yet here you are — almost… human.”
Valen’s jaw flexed. “Careful.”
“Oh, I’m careful,” Ezrah purred, voice smooth as silk drawn over glass. “I’m simply… fascinated. For a fleeting moment, I thought the vessel had control of you.”
His eyes narrowed, reflecting a cruel kind of wonder. “When you made that face—when you bore that expression of love.”
He laughed softly, a sound without warmth. “You. The embodiment of lust itself, wearing the look of devotion. Tell me, Valen, what did it feel like? To pretend at something you were never made to feel?”
He took a slow step closer, the air around him rippling with heat. “You are lust in the flesh. You’ve consumed mortals by the thousands, taken pleasure in their worship and their ruin. And yet for this one, you defied the natural order. You broke your own law.”
His grin widened, sharp enough to draw blood. “Tell me, brother—was she worth all that ruin?”
The silence that followed was long and heavy, vibrating with restrained power. Valen’s answer was only a small, humorless smile. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Ezrah's laughter was quiet—ancient and cruel, a sound that belonged to something far above mercy.
“Oh, I intend to,” he said, voice rippling with celestial mockery. “You always did mistake defiance for power.” His eyes gleamed like dying stars. “But this… this is the flaw that will unmake you.”
He circled Valen slowly, the air trembling beneath his presence. “All for a mortal—a vessel of dust and decay. You let her teach you to hunger beyond your nature.” He smiled faintly, cruelly. “And when she burns you, brother, not even Hell will remember your name.”
The tension broke just slightly as Rowan—Gluttony—stretched and groaned like a man waking from the world’s longest nap.
“Are we done with all this sentimental crap?” he muttered. “Because I’m starving.”
Ethan—Wrath—snorted, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Decades asleep, and all you can think about is food. Truly inspiring.”
Rowan shot him a glare. “Decades? Try centuries. Do you have any idea how it feels to wake up and still be hungry? My body feels like smoke.”
Celeste—Envy—rolled her eyes. “You’ve only been asleep for a couple of weeks, and honestly, you look better that way. Less like a walking stomach.”
Rowan stretched, and the change was striking. He had once been a massive, rolling chunk of flesh, but now his body matched the others—lean, toned, and balanced. The excess was gone, leaving a frame that was flawless, strong, and undeniably handsome, like a figure carved for humans to worship, but no more or less striking than the rest of the sins.
Meanwhile, Ezekiel had been searching frantically for Salem ever since the ground had split beneath them. During the fall, he and Salem had been separated, swallowed by the chaos, and for hours he wandered the building—upstairs, down corridors, through rubble—calling her name, his frustration mounting with every empty corner.
By the time the structure finally gave way completely, it was almost too late. But he had noticed just in time, managing to scramble clear as debris rained down around him.
When he finally looked up, exhausted and bloodied, he caught sight of Rowan. The Gluttony Sin had been watching, eyes dark with desire, muscles coiled like a predator. Ezekiel, still reeling from his own near-escape, didn’t realize what was about to happen—or that Rowan’s hunger was focused entirely on him.
Rowan’s chest heaved, primal hunger simmering just beneath his composed exterior. His gaze locked on Ezekiel, and a slow, deliberate lick of his lips betrayed the predator’s anticipation. One thing was clear: Rowan was hungry—and Ezekiel, exhausted and vulnerable, was right there.
Rowan’s fangs lengthened, catching the dim light as his pupils swallowed the color of his eyes. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, hunger thrumming through every line of his body.
Ezekiel saw it instantly. This man doesn't look human. His instincts kicked in — hand darting for his sidearm, breath steadying despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “Don’t move,” he barked, voice edged with command. “I’m warning you.”
Rowan only smiled, that kind of smile that made the threat sound amusing. “Warning me?” he drawled. “That’s adorable.”
He moved in a blink — a blur of motion and heat — and suddenly Ezekiel was staring up at him, feeling the air shift as something far stronger loomed inches away.
“Rowan.”
Celeste’s voice cut through the air, smooth and sharp as glass. She appeared between them before Ezekiel even registered the movement, a steady hand pressed to Rowan’s chest.
“With the uniform he’s wearing, he’s a cop,” she said, voice low but firm. “You kill him here, and every mortal authority within fifty miles will come crawling all over this place.”
Rowan’s jaw twitched, eyes still locked on Ezekiel like he was a meal trying to talk its way out of being eaten. “And?” he murmured, tone almost lazy. “Let them come.”
Celeste shot him a look. “We’re not running from them, idiot. We’re just not wasting time on mortals when we’ve just woken up. There are bigger things to deal with.”
A dangerous silence followed. Rowan’s breath came slow and heavy, fangs glinting faintly as he leaned closer — close enough for Ezekiel to feel the warmth of it. Then, at last, he straightened with a humorless grin.
“You always ruin my fun.”
Ezekiel didn’t lower his gun. His stance was rigid, trained — but the tremor in his arm betrayed the adrenaline crashing through him. His eyes darted between them, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
“What the hell are you people?” he demanded. “Where’s Salem? And who the hell is that?” His gaze flicked toward Lucian, standing just behind them with Salem in his arms.
Valen's expression barely shifted. Calm. Cold. His voice was measured, but carried the weight of something older than command. “She’s safe,” he said. “That’s all that should matter to you.”
Ezekiel squared his shoulders. “You’ve been missing for weeks, Mr. Vale. There’s a warrant out for you. You’re coming with me to the stat—”
Valen tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement brushing his lips. “And who are you to command me?”
Celeste gave a quiet, short laugh. Rowan smirked again, running his tongue over one fang.
Their eyes, as dark as the night sent chills down his spine. That isn't normal. Were they under some form of drug?
Ezekiel felt another chill crawl through him, but it wasn’t fear—it was the air itself. The power around them began to shift, pressing down like invisible hands. His lungs fought for breath; every inhale came shorter than the last, the air thick with something ancient and powerful.
Still, Valen said quietly, “Leave while you can, Officer”
That was the last thing Ezekiel heard before the world dimmed to black and he collapsed, the weight of that unseen power swallowing him whole.
For a moment, no one spoke. Only the hum of restrained power filled the air. Then Ethan—Wrath—exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “He’ll be a problem if we let him remember this.”
Celeste glanced at him, then at Valen. “He’s mortal. Curious ones have a way of coming back.”
Valen's gaze lingered on the fallen officer for a heartbeat. His tone was quiet, almost detached. “Then erase it. We don’t need more eyes turning toward us.”
Rowan gave a lazy grin. “You sure you don’t want me to just eat him instead? It’d be faster.”
“Do it,” Valen said to Celeste, ignoring him.
Celeste moved forward, kneeling beside Ezekiel. Her hand hovered just above his forehead; faint light coiled around her fingertips, soft and cold, like moonlight trapped in motion. Ezekiel’s body shuddered once, then stilled completely.
“There,” she murmured, standing again. “When he wakes, all he’ll remember is the collapse.”
Rowan stretched, smirking. “Pity. He looked tasty.”
Ezrah's eyes flicked toward him with severe impatience. “Control yourself.”