Wings of Torment (Silver City University Book 2) by Victoria Pauley

Author:Victoria Pauley [Pauley, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

15

Istep through a door marked staff only and enter a small café. The angel behind the counter doesn’t seem bothered that I’ve just entered through the wrong door. Not that I’d care if she did. There’s absolutely zero chance I would’ve stayed in that alley and risked being caught snooping.

There are enough problems on my plate right now. I don’t need to somehow make it onto the shit list of some psycho angel dude with a superiority complex. Hard pass.

I order a hot apple cider, which the Sinful Café announces as a speciality, to blend in better but keep my eye trained on the scarred angel. He hasn’t flown off, which is odd. Does that mean he’s not done with whatever it is he’s doing in the district? Though I suppose he could just live here. He’s a Fallen, after all. But then what the hell was he doing at the scene of a demonic crime?

I take a seat near the window, pretending to flip through a magazine while I watch him walk down a side street.

Barely a few seconds tick by before I stand, determination making my legs move toward the door. I can’t not follow him. We have so many fucking questions now and zero answers. I’d be a fool to pass up the chance at finding any. And as afraid as I might be, the thought of being kept in the dark for even a moment longer scares me more.

Plus, it’s not like I’m an idiot. I have no intentions of confronting him. Shouting “Hey man! Tell me your name and why you were at the armory during a robbery” is more likely to get me killed than give me any answers. Especially if he kept any of the weapons he stole. But I can be careful, quiet, and at least find out where he’s going.

The cider warms me as I nonchalantly head toward the street our scarred friend just went down. If I’m caught, I can just pretend I’m new and exploring. The drink helps too. I’m only a silly schoolgirl, after all.

But the street is empty.

The further down it I go, the less civilization there is. There are no more shops, no angels in sight. Only me and my fear. It’s strange, though. I’m not just afraid of him, but of walking away from this with no information. Of letting down my friends, and even myself. How can I be so scared of a corrupt angel, and yet even more afraid that I’ve let him slip away?

As I approach the end of the street, certain I’ve lost any chance of learning something helpful, his familiar nasally voice echoes off the buildings.

“It’s a fucking disaster is what it is.”

The scarred man sounds so fucking close that I almost jump back, but stop myself before I give myself away. There’s no doorway for me to step into, only an old tarp covering what might be a rickety shelving unit, and I sure as hell don’t think that’ll be quiet.

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