“You have to understand, Mia,” Az said, pushing off the wall. When he stepped into the light, the shadows danced away from his skin. “Rafael told Eisheth everything before he left for Hell. She wanted to test me. She wanted me to prove the angels were wrong. I had to do whatever it took to keep my Legion safe. What I did tonight…it will go a long way toward convincing Lucifer that we aren’t against him. She thinks I would have sacrificed you if the angels hadn’t interfered.”

“The angels. Why did they show up?”

“We asked them to fly in to save you and the others since we couldn’t do it ourselves,” Az said quietly. “I took a chance in trusting they’d be on our side once they understood what we do in here.”

Caim gripped my elbow as all the blood rushed from my face. Az had used me. To protect himself. I shouldn’t have been surprised but I was. Had he ever really wanted me to back out of the Covenant Ball? Or had his objections been just for show, too? If I’d tried to leave before tonight, would he have let me?

At least he wasn’t actually evil, but…he’d still dangled me as bait. Without me knowing.

“You should have told me,” I whispered.

“I couldn’t, Mia.”

“That was dangerous, what you just did. What if something had gone wrong?”

“I was right there with you the whole time.” His hands fisted. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

I turned away and blew out a hot breath. This hurt far more than it should have. What was worse, I understood why he’d done it. Hell, if I’d known, I would have volunteered myself. But I hated that he hadn’t told me. I felt like a pawn.

“What about everything else?” I asked, turning back toward him. “The apartment and the new job. If Eisheth tells Lucifer you tried to sacrifice me, then maybe I don’t have to go anywhere else. I can—”

“The job and the apartment are real.” His eyes shuttered. “I asked Suriel to bring you here so that we could explain everything to you. But it’s time for you to go now, Mia. You need to lead a normal human life. Without me or my Legion in it.”

35

The one-bedroom apartment in Williamsburg sat in the middle of a tree-lined block. Az and I trailed up the four flights of stairs and pushed inside the steel door. When I closed it behind us, I spotted six different locks, two of which were electric. A number pad had been bolted to the wall beside it.

Hardwood floors gleamed against the sunset streaming in through the small windows that faced the street. Az strode over to them, peered down at the ground, and then nodded to himself.