Page 91 of Art of Sin

“I know,” he whispers back. “Your mom was wrong. You’re God’s creature, not the Devil’s. And there’s no way you’ve been brought this far to fall.”

My brows lift in surprise. “You really believe that?”

He nods. “You’re an angel. My angel—which means you’re a full-on badass bitch with flaming wings and a glowing sword.”

When our laughter fades, he adds, “But promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“When the time comes, don’t do it for me or even you. Do it for the kids who didn’t survive like we did.”

With a final graze of his lips across my forehead, he walks away, fading into the shadows of the hallway. A door opens and closes, and I’m alone again, my blood screaming for vengeance and my heart breaking for the life that might have been.

As I pass the door to the loft, I glance up, toward where they sleep.

Where he sleeps.

I continue on, slipping silently through the back door into the night.

Goodbye, Gideon.

---