I want to close my eyes against the final blow but I can’t. My eyes stay glued open, forgetting how to close.

“You should have accepted our invitation when you had the chance,” says Night, straining against the wing to hold it away from Snow’s body. “Although even I wouldn’t have predicted this kind of end for you.”

He nods again to Stripes. The blade whips down and slices off the wing.

Snow shrieks his fury. The street fills with echoes of his rage and agony.

Blood sprays everywhere, showering the others. They struggle to hold him down as the blood makes him slick. Snow twists and kicks two of the bullies with lightning speed. They end up rolling on the asphalt, curling around their stomachs. For a moment, as the remaining two angels fight to keep him down, I think he’ll manage to bust loose.

But Night stomps his boot on Snow’s back, right on the raw wound.

Snow hisses in a breath filled with pain but does not scream. The others take the opportunity to slink back into position, holding him down.

Night drops the severed wing. It lands with the thud of a dead animal on the asphalt.

Snow’s expression is furious. He still has fight in him, but it’s draining fast along with his blood. Blood soaks his skin, mats his hair.

Night grabs the remaining wing and yanks it open.

“If it was up to me, I’d let you go,” says Night. There’s enough admiration in his voice to make me suspect he might mean it. “But we all have our orders.” Despite the admiration, he doesn’t show any regret.

Stripes’ blade, poised on Snow’s wing joint, catches the moon’s reflection.

I cringe, expecting another bloody blow. Behind me, the tiniest, sympathetic sound escapes Paige.

Burnt suddenly tilts his head from behind Night. He looks right at us.

I freeze, still crouched behind the moving van. My heart skips a beat, then races triple time.

Burnt gets up and walks away from the carnage.

Straight towards us.

CHAPTER 4

My brain clamps shut in fear. The only thing I can think to do is to distract the angel while my mother pushes Paige to safety.

“Run!”

My mother’s face freezes wide-eyed in horror. In her panic, she turns and runs off without Paige. She must have assumed I’d push the wheelchair. Paige looks at me with terrified eyes dominating her pixie face.

She swivels her chair and rolls as fast as she can after Mom. My sister can roll her own chair, but not nearly as fast as someone can push her.

None of us will make it out alive without a distraction. With no time to consider the pros and cons, I make a split-second decision.

I sprint out into the open straight toward Burnt.

I dimly register an outraged roar filled with agony somewhere in the background. The second wing is being cut. It’s probably already too late. But I’m at the place where Snow’s sword lies, and there’s not enough time for me to come up with a new plan.