Page 77 of Where Angels Fall

I park and sit for a beat, heart pounding so loudly it feels like they might hear it from inside.

Each step up to the entrance feels heavier than the last, my pulse roaring in my ears as I climb the stairs, knowing deep down, that whatever waits on the other side of the chipped door, can’t be good.

The voices of the men inside carrying through the door, rowdy and turbulent. Shaking, I reach out and push the door open, the sounds of men and violence hitting me as soon as I step forward. The door crashes behind me, and I flinch, my eyes adjusting to the dark club.

The smell hits me first. Sweat, alcohol and the metallic tang of something sharper. And when my eyes adjust to the light, I see why.

Blood. So much blood.

A crimson pool soaks the floor, the colour so dark in the low light it looks almost black. A muffled groan sounds from further in, low and raw enough to make my heart spike. Every cell in my body halts as my eyes track the room, finding a man tied up by his wrists, hanging from the roof. His feet barely touch the ruined floors, his body limp and defeated.

I wouldn’t be able to recognise him even if I knew him, his face nothing but a bloody, swollen mess. But I can see his leather vest. And on it says Wraiths.

Before the dying man, stands Ash, his eyes on me as he gages my expression, both of his fists raw and bloody. His grin is feral, eyes dilated. The picture of insanity. The room is quiet now, the group watching me as I try not to empty my stomachs contents onto the floor.

“What are you doing,” I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ash’s hands close into a tight fist, his lip curling in a mix of a snarl and a grin. Even in his state, wild and unhinged, he looks beautiful. Like a God. It takes my breath away, watching him be who I know he can be. Dark. Dangerous. Terrifying.

“Isn’t it obvious,” he drawls, head tilting to the side. “I’m sending a message.”

Before I can blink, he cocks his fist back and slams in into the side of the man’s face, his head twisting with a horrifying crack. Blood sprays off Ash’s hand, his knuckles swollen and ravaged. Hands that have touched me so intimately, now boasting split knuckles and the dark stain of life.

The man groans, barely conscious. And the spell breaks. Finally, I come to my senses, taking a step back, before turning to flee. I don’t get far, though, running into the thick wall of muscle that is Griff.

He stands in front of the door. In front of my exit. Gigantic arms folded over his chest as he stares down at me, golden eyes looking bored. I spin, gasping breaths down, as Ash throws his head back in a humourless laugh, before focusing his narrowed eyes on me.

I feel fear like I’ve never known it, staring at the man before me. Covered in another man’s blood. The wild, feral side of him is completely unleashed and on show. He looks like a thing of nightmares. He looks barely human.

On high heels, I take a shaky step forward. A step towards him. And his eyes flick down, watching the step, before raising back up to my eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d come, Maddison,” Ash mutters, his voice causing the barely conscious man in front of him to whimper in terror.

The cold look in his eyes and the use of my name makes me sway, nausea building in my throat.

My head shakes side to side, lost for words, taking in the scene before me. My head turns to Leon who is leaning against a table, and I see pity looking back.

I scan the other faces watching me, waiting to see how I’ll react, then back to Ash’s face. The man who seems to be dying right in front of me groans again, and my eyes get stuck on his vest.

For a moment, I want to smile. For a moment, I want to beg Ash to finish him right here and now. Because he might be the very reason Thomas is dead. He might be the one who snuck into the Devils territory and killed my friend.

When those thoughts sink in, terror follows. I can’t think like that. That is not how the world works. Not my world, anyway.

“Didn’t really think I had a choice,” I murmur, lifting my chin in the face of danger, although all I feel is horror.

This gets another smile from Ash, his dimple popping out in full force as his perfectly white teeth gleam in the darkness.

“You learn quickly, Angel.” He takes a step forward, boots stepping into the sticky puddle. “Get him out of here.”

Two Devils step forward without a word, each grabbing one of the Wraith’s arms, cutting him loose. He lets out a sound that makes my stomach twist, but they drag him past me like he’s nothing more than dead weight. The door closes again, sealing me in here with Ash and the suffocating scent.

“That,” he says, voice low, “was a message to anyone who thinks they can touch what’s mine.”

I freeze, as my skin prickles. “What’s yours?”

A dangerous question. A very, very dangerous question.

His eyes lock on to mine, and the heaviness of them pins me in place, despite how frantically my body tells me to run. To run as far and fast as I can and never look back.