Descent, page 21
“She’s grown,” Seraph said, her voice like steel. “She’s twenty-something. Not some wide-eyed waif in need of a guardian.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Walton’s expression faltered—conflict flickering in his eyes—but he didn’t argue.
I clenched my fists. “I shouldn’t need your protection,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “I should be able to take care of myself.”
Both of them turned to me then—Walton with something unreadable in his gaze, Seraph with approval.
“Angel…” Walton began, but I raised a hand.
“No,” I said. “You wanted me to survive, right? Well, this is how it starts. By standing up for myself. By making choices.”
Seraph gave a slow nod, her earlier rage mellowing into something more thoughtful. Walton’s jaw twitched, and he looked away.
“Fine,” he muttered, cold and distant. “If that’s what you want.”
His words landed like a blow. I felt the weight of them settle on my chest, but I didn’t take them back.
Seraph stepped forward, her tone gentler. “In the morning, you’ll go,” she said to Walton. Then she looked at me. “But you can stay, Everly.”
She didn’t wait for a response. With a final glance between us, she turned and left; the door clicking shut behind her.
I stood there, breathing hard, still feeling the ghost of Walton’s touch.
“I—” I started, turning to him. But his eyes were shadowed now, unreadable.
And whatever we’d almost shared? It felt very, very far away.
“Maybe you should stay,” Walton muttered, his voice low and strained. “They’ll give you protection I can’t.”
He turned, already heading for the door before I could make sense of the words.
“Walton, I—” I started, my voice catching in my throat.
“I need a cigarette,” he cut in sharply, not looking back.
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I was left alone in the dim room, the silence pressing in from all sides.
My chest ached with the sudden emptiness he left behind. I didn’t understand what had just happened—what I’d done wrong, or how to make it right.
So I sat there, frozen in place, hoping he’d come back.
Hoping the silence wouldn’t last forever.
Chapter 24
Walton
I stepped out of The Seraph’s Embrace, the buzz of neon burning overhead and the stink of sweat, smoke, and perfume still clinging to me. I lit a cigarette with shaking hands, the flame catching for a second on my face—just long enough to highlight the anger carved into every line.
Silence padded over from the shadows, quiet and steady like always. She didn’t bark or growl. Just stood there, watching me with those burning eyes. She knew the drill. When I was like this, the best thing anyone—or anything—could do was stay close and stay quiet.
I dragged hard on the cigarette. Smoke filled my lungs and brought a sharp sting to the back of my throat. It didn’t help. Rage still curled hot in my gut. Those bastard johns inside. The angels selling their bodies like it meant power. Seraph and her smug little knowing smirks. And Everly—God help me, even Everly with her damn questions and too-wide eyes.
She didn’t know what she was asking. She didn’t know what she was doing to me.
I started walking, Silence falling into step beside me. We moved through the crumbling edge of the city, the glow of the brothel dimming behind us. The ruins stretched out like a graveyard—forgotten, broken, silent. A perfect match for the storm boiling under my skin.
Another drag. More smoke. No peace.
The memory of Everly wouldn’t leave me alone. Her voice, soft and unsure, asking about love and first times like the world hadn’t already taken everything from her. Like she still thought any of it meant something. Like she still believed in people.
And hell, maybe the worst part was that she looked at me like I was one of them. Not the monster I’d become. Not the thing that had crawled out of the Pit with blood under its nails and nothing left to lose.
She looked at me like I was still worth something.
I leaned against a broken wall; the concrete crumbling beneath my weight. The cigarette burned down to the filter, but I didn’t drop it. Just stared out at the horizon like it might give me answers. Like it might tell me how the hell I was supposed to protect her from this world—when I couldn’t even protect her from me.
She didn’t flinch around me. Didn’t look away. And somehow that made everything worse.
Because for the first time in years, I wanted to be the man she thought I was.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I stood there in the dark, staring out at the ruins with the taste of ash still clinging to my tongue. The idea of leaving her behind clawed at the back of my mind. It made sense. Seraph could protect her. She had the resources, the influence. The brothel might’ve been a house of sin, but it was safer than the path I walked. Safer than me.
But fuck, I didn’t want to let her go.
I should’ve walked away. Should’ve left her in that room with a goodbye and a lie about keeping her safe. But when I imagined doing it, a pressure wrapped around my chest like barbed wire. She’d wormed her way into the parts of me I thought were long dead. And now that she was there, the thought of tearing her out…
It hurt like hell.
I flicked the cigarette down into the dirt; the ember snuffing out on impact. The guilt hit me before the smoke had time to clear. She’d have scolded me for littering—probably something about setting a better example.
I muttered a curse under my breath and stomped back to pick it up, grinding it beneath my heel like it had offended me. “Goddammit, Everly,” I growled. “What the hell have you done to me?”
I needed to focus. Elise. She was the mission. My ticket out. My one shot at breaking free of Lucifer’s grip.
But Everly didn’t know that.
She didn’t know I wasn’t here to help her. That every day I spent with her was another day closer to betraying her. The moment she realized I wasn’t looking for her sister—not really—it’d be over.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
The image of her eyes—bright, green, too trusting—burned into the backs of my eyelids. The day she looked at me with disappointment, with hate… it would rip me apart. Worse than any blade, any deal with the devil, any punishment Hell had to offer.
I leaned against the side of a cracked wall, my knuckles still bruised from the fight. I thought back to when I first saw her. Naïve. Soft-spoken. That ridiculous spark of hope still clinging to her even after everything. She’d looked at me like I was something more than what I was.
Like I could save her.
But I was the last thing she needed saving from.
I had a job. I had a fucking purpose, and it wasn’t her. It wasn’t the way she made me forget myself or the way she reminded me who I used to be. Elise. That was the deal. That was the price.
And when Everly found out the truth—that I’d never meant to help her find her sister—it would destroy what little was left between us.
I turned my eyes back toward The Seraph’s Embrace. Its sign buzzed, broken and flickering like the rest of this godforsaken city. Inside, she was probably pacing the room, chewing on her lip, thinking of something else to ask me.
She wanted answers.
But all I had to offer her were truths that would break her.
And when that happened, when she turned away from me… I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
Silence nudged my leg again, dragging me back from the edge of my own damn thoughts. She let out a low, guttural growl—a Hellhound’s version of concern. She always had a way of knowing when my mind was chewing on something it couldn’t swallow.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave Everly behind. As much as it made me a selfish bastard, I didn’t give a shit. The thought of her out here alone, in this godforsaken world full of monsters in skin suits… No. I wouldn’t let that happen.
Hell, even in the sanctuary of The Embrace, she wasn’t safe. Not really.
I needed a plan. Something solid. Something that wouldn’t end with her getting hurt… or hating me. Because that second one? That thought dug deeper than I’d ever admit.
At least she was with Seraph for now. That gave me breathing room—barely. A sliver of time to figure out our next step. Maybe we could use Seraph’s network. She had information brokers, whispers in alleyways, secrets tucked into the hems of every silk robe in that building. If anyone knew about Elise or the Purifiers, it’d be her.
But going back in meant facing Everly. Meant seeing those wide green eyes full of questions I didn’t want to answer.
Damn it, Walton. Get your shit together.
I dragged a hand through my hair, the heat of frustration pulsing behind my eyes. Silence sat back on her haunches, staring up at me with those glowing red orbs, waiting for me to move.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, turning back toward the brothel. Gravel crunched beneath my boots, every step louder than the last. The closer I got, the heavier everything felt.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the haze. Smoke and sin in equal measure hit me square in the face. Conversations buzzed, glasses clinked, laughter echoed—and I scanned through it all until I found her.
Seraph. Standing behind the bar, calm as ever, like she didn’t just watch me beat a man half to death.
“D,” she said, nodding once.
At least she hadn’t kicked me out yet. She gave me the night. One night. I could work with that.
“Seraph,” I grunted.
I leaned against the bar, the weight of it all pressing down on my spine like judgment.
“I need to ask you a few things,” I said low, just loud enough for her to hear.
Her violet eyes narrowed. “And here I thought you were going to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I scoffed. “Fuck no. He touched her—”
“Right,” she cut in smoothly. “And here I was thinking you didn’t care.”
“If it were one of your girls, I’d do the same.”
“You’d do something,” she allowed. “But not the same. Don’t lie to an angel.”
“Wouldn’t if I ever saw one.”
She smirked, but her eyes stayed sharp. “What kind of questions, then?”
“Information,” I said. “About the Purifiers.”
Her gaze flicked, just briefly, toward the staircase. Toward where Everly was.
“This is about her sister, isn’t it?”
I grunted, not bothering to argue. She wasn’t wrong.
She studied me for a long beat before giving a slow nod. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, already feeling the weight of what that could mean.
“But you’re still leaving tomorrow, D,” she added sharply. “I can’t have this kind of behavior here. This place is neutral ground. If people don’t feel safe—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I cut her off with a roll of my eyes.
As Seraph turned away, likely already weaving her network of contacts, guilt chewed at me like an old wound reopened. I was doing all this to protect Everly, but I hadn’t told her a damn thing about the real reason I’d saved her. If she knew the truth—about her sister, about the deal—I’d lose her for sure.
And still, I couldn’t walk away. Not now.
I headed for the stairs, each creak beneath my boots sounding louder than it should. Silence followed, her claws tapping softly beside me. I paused at the door to our room, my hand hovering over the knob.
One girl. One stubborn, too-kind-for-her-own-good girl—and I was hesitating like some lovesick idiot. What the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe I should leave. Let her stay here with Seraph, where she’d be safe. Sever the tether before it pulled me down with it. That was the logical thing. The smart thing.
But I couldn’t do it. My hand clenched around the knob.
I opened the door slowly. The room was dark, moonlight filtering in through a cracked window and casting silvery shadows across the floor. I stepped in and closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment, soaking in the stillness.
Everly was curled up on the bed, tucked beneath a worn blanket. Her breathing was soft, even. Peaceful. That look of vulnerability made something twist in my chest—something dangerously close to longing.
I moved quietly to the chair by the window and sank into it. Silence curled up at my feet.
I watched her for a long while; her face soft in sleep. The girl who trusted me without reason, who looked at me like I was still worth something. The girl I should protect at all costs… and the one I might destroy without meaning to.
With a sigh, I bent down, pulled off my boots, and let my duster slide to the floor. The silence in the room pressed in, but it felt less suffocating now. Just still.
I should sleep in the chair. It was the right thing to do. The safest thing.
But when the hell had I ever been a gentleman? And when had I ever been right?
I stood there in the dark, staring at her silhouette curled under that worn blanket. I knew I shouldn’t. I told myself to stay in the chair, to keep the distance. But the truth was, I needed to be near her. Not to touch—God, not that. Just… close enough to feel her warmth, to remember I wasn’t completely dead inside.
I moved slow, careful with every step. The damn floor creaked anyway, loud in the stillness. Her eyes cracked open, hazy with sleep.
“You’re back,” she mumbled, voice soft and thick.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice.
She scooted over without hesitation, making space for me. My heart kicked up hard and fast. I hovered there for a second like a fool, then finally crawled in next to her.
The mattress dipped under my weight, and the second I settled, she pressed herself against me—arm wrapping around my chest, head finding my shoulder like it was always meant to be there.
I went stiff. Every instinct told me to pull away, to get out before I made a mistake. But I didn’t move.
Her breath evened out, soft against my neck, and slowly—too slowly—I let myself relax. Her arm across my chest, her head nestled into the crook of my shoulder… It was too much. Too real. Too good.
I didn’t deserve this. I never had. But I was selfish, always had been. Pretending otherwise now wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Her warmth seeped into me, chasing off the cold that had sunk into my bones years ago. She smelled like sweat and flowers—something faint, maybe from the soap at Seraph’s place. It made my chest ache.
I hated how much peace this gave me. Hated it because I knew it wouldn’t last. Still, I let myself hold onto it for now, just for a little while. Her grip tightened in her sleep before loosening again, and I stayed still, not daring to move.
No idea what tomorrow would bring. Hell, I barely knew what I’d do when the sun came up. But this—this moment—I wasn’t letting it go.
And then she whispered, so faint I thought I imagined it: “Don’t leave me.”
I swallowed hard, throat suddenly too tight. She was out cold, already lost to sleep. Didn’t matter.
I whispered anyway.
“Never.”
Chapter 25
Everly
The second Walton slid into bed beside me, the air changed. His presence radiated heat, and instinctively, I moved closer—my arm draped across his chest, my face finding its place against the warmth of his body. The scent of smoke clung to him, undercut by something darker, metallic and earthy, like the trace of battle lingering on skin. It should’ve been alarming. But somehow, it grounded me.
His body was solid beneath my hand, steady and unyielding. Each rise and fall of his chest pulled me deeper into calm. The cold that had clung to me since the bunker—the kind of chill you carry in your bones, not your skin—began to melt away. My breath hitched softly.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered into the space between us, the words trembling out like a confession. I didn’t know if he heard. I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to. But saying it made it real.
And then… I drifted.
Sleep came easily beside him, like it was something my body had been waiting to do for years but never trusted anyone enough to surrender to. In the bunker, sleep had been light and scattered, chased away by steel and sermons and shadows. But wrapped up in Walton, the nightmares were quiet. The past couldn’t reach me. Nothing could.
His heart beat beneath my ear—a slow, deep rhythm that anchored me. I didn’t know when it happened, when being near him started to feel like safety. Like something sacred. Like the only place in this world I belonged.
What scared me most wasn’t how protected I felt. It was how much I wanted to stay there. How much I wanted him.
Not just his strength or his fury or the way he made others shrink away with one glare—but all of him. The parts he tried to hide. The way he’d held me earlier. The way he hadn’t walked away.
With Walton, I felt like I could breathe. I didn’t have to perform or pretend. He didn’t demand anything of me. He just let me be. That was rare. It was everything.
Even asleep, I held on to him like a lifeline, like he was the only solid thing left in this broken world. And maybe he was.
When my eyes cracked open again, the room was still cloaked in darkness, the pale blue light of the moon streaking in through the cracked window. My limbs were tangled with his, and our bodies pressed so close it was hard to tell where mine ended and his began.
I didn’t move. I just listened.
To the beat of his heart.
To the silence between breaths.
To the quiet truth neither of us had said out loud.
But I felt it all the same.
I didn’t know what the future held for us. Every step forward felt like a gamble. One day it was raiders, the next demons, and always, always the lingering shadow of what I’d left behind. But in that moment, pressed against Walton’s side with the world blissfully quiet, it was easy to pretend none of it existed.
