“You’re hurt. Sit the fuck down, Merrick,” Treyu shouts.
“I’m fine. Angel, remember? Besides, it’s just my wings. They’ll heal.”
“You shouldn’t have used them.”
“And then I’d be dead.”
Treyu knows he’s right, even if Merrick doesn’t mean that in the literal sense, but he’s frustrated.
“We are approaching Tauri Nebula, so if everyone could shut the fuck up and be grateful we escaped with our hides.” We don’t know if the same can be said for Boone.
It’s nightfall when we land at Orion homebase, and I’ve never been so glad to see the compound. I drag Gem by the hand to the kitchens, hoping to scrounge some of Dad’s cooking before sleeping for a hundred years.
Then, I think we gotta go. Things are hitting too close now.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Treyu
Merrick’s lying on a cot in my room at Orion base camp. He’s the worst I’ve ever seen him, and a terrible patient. He won’t let me do anything for him. He’s tense with pain and more irate than usual. His wings look like shit. Like flakey skin with a bunch of Vaseline smeared over them. How he managed to fly with them, I’ll never know. Angels can use their wings as their own personal stargate, but they still refer to it as flying.
“Your father is crazy,” I say.
“He was trying to rid me of the mark. He gave up after the wing thing—Dad threatened to leave him.”
“Can he leave?”
“No, but he can make Father’s existence miserable.”
“Can you put them away?” I’m an asshole for asking, but they’re hard to look at.
“I can, and I will later. They need to air out. Once I recover enough to fly back, I have to go. Father doesn’t know I’m here.”
“I thought you were my new babysitter.”
“That’s complicated. For now, you’re free, but you won’t be if I don’t remove that rune I marked you with. Heaven can find you. As of now, they don’t know you have it.”
“You risked your father to remove a rune?”
“Yep. C’mere.”
“Wait until your wings have healed, Mair.”
Merrick takes a moment to contemplate just how stubborn I can be. “My father will find us by then.”
“A chance I’m willing to take.”
“Centaurus, will you drag him over here for me?”
Zhang’s like a stone sentinel, arms crossed, leaned against the wall. “Show him your arm,” he demands.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
It would be so nice to throw a fit over that, but his domineering tone doesn’t leave room for my fits. His domineering tone says,do it now or do it now with a sore ass.
I shed my jacket and roll up my sleeve. Merrick’s eyes widen. The corners of his lips twitch.
