I put two and two together and ended up with the taste of bile in my throat. I didn’t know if it was right or wrong to feel a little bit of relief to know that the man had not been a good dude. Murder was bad and all, but if what Zayne claimed was true, I couldn’t really feel all that bad for him. I just didn’t know what that meant for Zayne.

Or for me.

But whatever.

“You’re making a bad decision,” Zayne said, jolting me out of my thoughts. He was watching me, but he wasn’t speaking to me.

What was Dez doing?

“I’m feeling overly generous right now,” Zayne said. “But take one more step and it will be the last step you take.”

Did he have eyes in the back of his head? I had no idea, but the cold threat carried the weight of truth. It was clear that it was his last warning.

Staring at him, I tried to reconcile the fact that even with the flatness of his tone and the predatory gleam in his eyes, it looked like Zayne. Yes, there were things that were different. The glow and the wings. But I couldn’t process how changed he was. How could his Fall erase everything? Was the Glory—his soul—that powerful? Were there any memories of his life in him or just vague sensations associated with a consciousness he was no longer connected to? Was that why I felt familiar to him, but he didn’t know why? Or care? Or was the reason why he killed the Ghoul, why he hadn’t snapped my neck, because that consciousness still drove him on some primal, basic level he couldn’t understand? Was it too late?

“Are you even still in there?” I whispered.

There was a flicker of emotion that tightened the skin around his eyes and mouth. Confusion? I thought so. It reminded me of how he’d stared at me when I’d touched his cheek instead of striking him.

If he was truly lost, he wouldn’t feel confusion now. At least, that’s what I thought—what I had to think. “Do you still feel too much?” I asked, remembering what he and the Throne had said about his Fall. “Do you know what you were before tonight? Who you were?”

He said nothing.

“You were a Warden, like him. You were my Protector, bonded to me. You died protecting me. Do you not remember that?”

Zayne’s chest rose with a sharp breath.

“You did that because you love me and not because of any bond or duty,” I rushed on. “Do you not remember anything before Falling? Do you even remember your name?”

“I told you what you can call me,” he snarled, sending a chill across my skin.

“What? Death? Fallen? That’s not your name. It’s Zayne,” I stated, forcing everything I felt into the words. All of my love and fear for him, all my hope and my pain. “Do you remember his name? The Warden? He’s like a brother to you—”

“Stop.” He twisted his neck from side to side, eyes closing briefly. “This is irrelevant. Who I was doesn’t matter—”

“How can it not matter?” I argued. “You can’t just be anger and hatred. That can’t be all that you are. You didn’t just start existing the moment you landed in the park. You had an entire life. You are kind and good and fair. You love. You grieve. You—”

“I am none of those things!” he roared, wings snapping out and spreading wide. The luminous glow intensified, pulsing so brightly that pain shot through my eyes. Golden-white light sparked from his arms, from both arms—

Several things happened at once.

I knew he was summoning his grace, and while I was curious to see what kind of weapon it would produce, I wasn’t stupid enough to find out. Dez shouted his name, shouted something else, and Zayne spun around. The edges of his wings glanced over my cheek in the softest caress as they rose high above me. I filed that away to obsess over later, surprised he hadn’t whacked me over the head with them. Focused on Dez, his back was to me, and this was the moment. He was distracted, and I couldn’t let him reach Dez. This was my chance to either bring him back or...

Or give him peace.

He stepped away from me, and I called on my grace. Finally unleashed, it powered through me, turning the corners of my vision white. Grace powered down my right arm as I popped to my feet—

Zayne whirled so quickly it was almost unbelievable. He caught my right arm before my grace could even reach my wrist. Spinning me around, he clamped his other arm around my waist, drawing me back against him. The contact of his cold skin was a shock as he trapped my left arm to my side. “I don’t think so.”

The Sword of Michael flamed brightly, spitting and crackling heavenly fire, but his grip was like a vise. I could barely move my wrist. He’d known I was summoning the grace. I’d gone beyond stunned and straight into what the Hell territory. “How did you know?”

“I could feel it coming alive. I can feel it now, inside you. Calling to me,” he answered, pressing his cool cheek to mine. “It’s a fire in my blood and my bone. How could I not know?”

“That’s a nifty and inconvenient ability,” I snapped, barely resisting the urge to shriek. The Throne had insinuated such a thing, but he could’ve been way more clear about what he meant by Zayne being able to sense my grace.

“Isn’t it?” His hand splayed across my hip. “You were going to attack me while my back was to you. Thought you loved me?”

Heart thumping against my ribs, I was acutely aware of how close his hand was to the hilt of my dagger and the grip he had on my wrist. It wasn’t a painful hold. That seemed important to remember. “I do love you. I love you more than anything—”

“Doesn’t seem like a very loving thing to do.” His chin dragged along my cheek as his head shifted just the slightest. “Perhaps you don’t value your life, because I would swear you just moved after I warned you not to. Maybe you value her life more? Keep moving, and I will kill her and then you.”