로그인I open the small door next to the liquor stockroom, just like Zara told me to, and all I find is a dark staircase. The old Lexi would never walk down those steps, but the woman I’ve become — and who’s been slowly losing her mind on nights when Nox is closed — just has to know what’s down there.The flashlight on my phone lights up each step across the spotless floor, and with every second, my curiosity climbs faster.One short flight of stairs that turns left — and then another door.I push it open, and instead of pipes or storage boxes, I find an apartment. The sight makes me freeze at the threshold. The light is dim and warm, but enough to see every detail.The place is small, but complete. The first thing I see is a dark couch against the right-hand wall, facing a massive TV bolted into the concrete. A low carved wooden table sits in front of it, bare.Farther back, a queen bed fills the corner, covered in gray sheets and only two pillows. Beside it, a nightstand with a small lamp
I’m flat on my back on the mat, the air still trapped in my lungs after another fall. Every muscle aches, and I can already imagine the collection of bruises I’ll be showing off under that short dress tomorrow.Samiel stands over me, black sweatpants hanging low, the hoodie unzipped to reveal the fitted white shirt stretched across broad shoulders and a solid chest. His short hair is tousled, like he just rolled out of bed. He’s beautiful in that infuriating way — like he knows it and does it on purpose.— By the way… why were you so tense at the club? — he asks, watching me in silence for a moment, arms folded across his chest. — When Draven had his last meeting with us.My heart stumbles so hard it almost drops. Of course he noticed something.I hold my breath for a second before I answer.— I don’t know what you’re talking about.Samiel narrows his eyes and starts circling me, like he’s waiting for me to contradict myself.— I could feel your tension on the dance floor while you we
The murmur of the bar conversations buzzes through the Exilium office’s seal like an insistent mosquito.Eliahz knocks twice and pushes the door just enough to poke his blond head inside.— He’s here.I already know who it is — the illustrious visitor who sent a messenger earlier asking for a meeting.— Let him in.A thin, bony face slides through the doorway like a sacred skull. He looks like a man in his fifties with greyed hair, but he must be three times that. The “blessed” elixir keeps them going so long.He’s dressed all in black, as they always are, but a wine-colored sash tied at his waist replaces a belt and marks authority — above those with white collars.I motion to the chair across from me and he comes in.— Let’s save time, son of Lucifer — he says my father’s name like it’s an insult, but his voice is calm. — We want the girl.I smile, but he doesn’t even blink.— Don’t mistake the Order´s tolerance for weakness — Volkov continues, each syllable another thin attempt at
It’s well past midnight when I head down to the Nox.Outside, a fine, stubborn rain has kept most people away, and the place isn’t nearly as packed as usual, so I know Eryon doesn’t need my help at the bar.Cael and Samiel are upstairs in the office, and something between them has kept the air heavy for days — ever since the attack.I move through the room, where barely half the usual crowd is dancing, searching for Zara just so I’ll have someone to talk to.Then, near the women’s restroom, I spot her silhouette — dark curls tonight, styled into loose waves, and a white lycra dress that somehow manages to look too small even on her.I’m about to wave when the person beside her freezes me in place.Draven?The last man who should ever be inside the Nox.The last one who could risk stepping into nephilim territory and walk out alive — especially after what happened the last time he did, when he ended up half-dead in the alley behind the club.Hasn’t anyone told that guy suicide’s a sin?
It’s a low-class building downtown, packed with one-bedroom apartments. Smart move. Makes any kind of clean assassination harder. No one wants the headache of blowing up or breaking into a crowded building just to kill a single priest. Or ex-priest.Draven gives me a half-smile when he opens the door. Not happiness. Obviously. Pure irony.— Didn’t expect your visit after I left the Order. — He steps aside, letting me in.— After you were kicked out, you mean. — I correct him, flat.— Semantics.He walks to a tiny bar cabinet, pours two glasses of whiskey, and hands me one.The apartment looks just like the convents — minimalist to the point of misery: a couch with sagging cushions, a table for two, a cheap coffee table. No TV. I’d bet the bedroom only has a narrow bed and a closet.The Order is rich. Sentinels aren’t.While we Nephilim and fallen angels live off excess and sin, to him comfort is sin.His only vices are whiskey and profanity — but Sentinels aren’t regular priests. They
It’s just another day at work for this accountant.Except now, my pastel-colored suits have been replaced by dresses that border on indecent, and my office is an aluminum counter lined with limes, strawberries, and vodka. Lots of vodka.— For all the clipped wings, Alexia, one day you’re going to make someone commit a crime in this club. — Eryon’s smirk at my dress is almost a sin.— You love it — I tease, stepping behind the bar.— Tiny dresses or crimes?His grin widens, and I feel my body melt a little under that look. Damn Nephilim and their absurd, inhuman beauty.Zara shows up next, settling into her usual stool in front of me. With every drink I hand to a customer, she and I take a sip of another.— What do I have to do to get your number? — a man shouts over the thundering beat. Once upon a time, I might’ve fallen for him. But now, human beauty feels dull next to Eryon, Caelith… even the insufferable Samiel.Eryon steps in front of me, facing the man with a feral expression.—







