“Angel,” I whisper, and the words are right there.
Right fucking there, on the edge of my lips, slicing at my tongue.
But I hesitate, and that hesitation comes with a cost.
Acceptance settles over his expression, and the tiny smile he offers me splinters what’s left of my heart. “It’s okay, darling.” His hands fall to his side, though the storm in his eyes tells me he’s barely holding himself together. His eyes close again as his head thunks against the wall. “It’s all going to be okay. I only wish we’d taken the time to dance. Then at least I would’ve had that to hold onto.”
Before I can say a word to stop him, he disappears.
Heleavesme, standing there clutching the chains that marked him as mine, and they might as well be an anchor with how they weigh me down. My fist squeezes around the delicate strands as I roar, and I slam it into the stone of the building so hard the skin on my knuckles splits and bleeds.
But I don’t stop.
I drive my hand into the wall.
Over and over and fucking over again, until the blood pours into my palm and coats the last piece of Micah I have left.
Chapter 17
Micah
“Hold on a goddamned second. Let me make sure I understand precisely what you’re saying.” Niklaus pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. “After you’ve called all these meetings and wasted so much of our time… after we told yourepeatedlywhat a shitty idea this was and you refused to listen…now you have decided to pull the plug on the whole thing?Now?!”
“Yes,” I say, my voice coming out so weak that I have to clear my throat. “The project has been cancelled.” I take a shaky breath to steady myself, but the calmer I appear, the angrier they become. They glare at me as I stare at the top of the podium, their scorn cutting through me like daggers.
Their insults carve themselves into my skin.
Pathetic.
Pitiful.
Disgrace.
I’m a mess. My body is exhausted, and my thoughts are in shambles. No matter what I do or how I try to distract myself, the betrayal on Xalreth’s face is branded into my mind. The agony he projected as I left him standing outside his building, making no effort to hide how much I’d hurt him. Mere hours after swearing I’d stay by his side, I broke my promise.
He hates me now, and he has every right.
Each hour has been a battle against the desperate need to return, to fall at his feet and plead for forgiveness. Beg him to take me back in any capacity. I want to… God knows I do. But in the time we’ve spent together, I’ve realized a few very important things about the demon.
Despite how hard he works to project his cocky, devil-may-care façade, he isn’t selfish. Not like I am—even if he does everything in his power to hide that fact. This fear of failure doesn't cripple him. He doesn’t self-sabotage because it’s easier to be alone than it is to be afraid.
No, he’s a far better man than I am, and if I begged, he’d take me back. He’d take me back for no other reason than he wanted to make me happy again. I’d spend the rest of my life walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Waiting for him to realize he’s better off without me.
“If you had listened to a single other person’s input from the beginning, we wouldn’t be sitting here now looking like fools,” Niklaus continues.
“No one looks like a fool—” I start, but Niklaus interrupts me with a snort.
“Bullshit, Micah. You’re standing up there as the textbook definition of one.”
My gaze falls to the podium again, searching for the resolve to defend myself against his words, but finding nothing. My will to fight is gone. “Oh, but Micah is so good at looking like a fool,” Damien purrs as he strokes Niklaus’s beard. I glance up at the same time he does, and we lock eyes as he bares his teeth in a threatening smile. “Aren’t you?”
My throat is so tight I have to force my swallow as Drekoth lets out an exasperated scoff. “Does this mean I can have Xalreth back? He’s the only one in Hell that knows how to give a proper haircut.”
“Xalreth’s schedule is no longer my concern.” I fight to keep my face neutral as he gives a pleased hum, no doubt thinking of ways he plans on taking advantage of Xal. My blood boils at the thought of Drekoth getting too close to him, spending all that time with him while treating him like a servant, but I tamp it down and settle for glaring. He flips his hair over his shoulder, lifting a brow as though he’s challenging me to out-diva him.
I don’t have it in me.
