"Warren and Billy haven't returned yet. Where the hell are they?" Anastasia muttered, glancing at Ruth with growing unease.
"I was just about to ask the same thing," Rose replied, frowning at her phone screen. "Maybe I should try calling Billy again."
Anastasia nodded absently, but a gnawing anxiety clawed at her. The air felt heavier, like something was pressing down on her chest. Something was wrong.
"What's wrong, Ana?" Rose's voice softened. She had just finished listening to Anastasia's harrowing confession about what had really happened on the rooftop. She didn't judge—everyone had a breaking point. She just wanted to be there for her friend.
"I… I don't know." Anastasia rubbed her temples. "Something feels… off."
Rose sighed. "Let me try Billy again. You look exhausted—maybe try to get some rest."
"But—"
"I'm not going anywhere," Rose assured her, squeezing her arm gently. "I'll be right outside that door, okay?"
Anastasia hesitated, then nodded, feeling foolish. She was just rattled. That's all. The adrenaline from earlier was messing with her head. Forcing herself to breathe, she laid down, watching Rose step outside. Through the small window, she saw her dialing a number. The rhythmic beeping of the phone call soothed her, and before she knew it, exhaustion took over. Sleep pulled her under.
A loud crash jolted Anastasia awake.
Her eyes flew open to chaos.
The dimly lit room was a warzone. Two figures clashed in a violent struggle at the foot of her bed, their movements too fast, too powerful. The air crackled with a suffocating energy, making her skin prickle.
She froze.
One of them—a masked attacker—moved with inhuman grace. Clad in a black hoodie and matching slacks, his presence oozed malice. But his eyes—his eyes—burned gold, luminous like molten metal, piercing through the darkness like a predator locked onto its prey.
The second figure—her breath caught.
"Warren?!" she choked out.
Bastian.
His true name screamed through her mind as she watched him struggle against the masked intruder.
The second she spoke, the attacker snapped his head toward her, locking those eerie, golden eyes onto hers. A chill ran through her veins, ice spreading under her skin.
Oh, no.
With brutal efficiency, the intruder drove a powerful kick into Bastian's chest. The impact was thunderous, sending him crashing across the room. He hit the wall with a sickening crack, slumping for just a moment before attempting to push himself up.
"No!"
Anastasia's heart pounded like a war drum. Every cell in her body screamed at her to do something.
Run.
Fight.
Scream.
Something primal surged within her—an unrelenting, all-consuming need to protect him. To stand between him and danger. To fight for him the way he had fought for her.
The intruder moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
A blade glinted in his hand, catching the faint light in the room as he lunged at her.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Her pulse roared in her ears, her muscles tensed to run, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
The knife was inches from her throat when—
Light exploded in the room.
Blinding. Overwhelming.
A force yanked her backward, shielding her from the attack. Strong arms wrapped around her, spinning her away from the danger, pressing her into the safety of a solid chest. She gasped, her hands fisting into familiar fabric as she clung to the body holding her.
Bastian.
She looked up, heart slamming against her ribs. His face hovered inches from hers, concern shadowing his features. But that wasn't what stopped her breath.
He was glowing.
A soft, pulsing light surrounded him, radiating warmth, power, something ancient and divine.
And behind him—
Wings.
Massive. Pure white. Unfolding like a shield around them both, blocking out the world.
She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
This wasn't real.
This wasn't happening.
Was she dreaming? Hallucinating?
But the way his arms trembled around her, the raw emotion in his eyes—it was real.
Too real.
The attacker recovered faster than any human should. He lifted off the ground like he wasn't even bound by gravity, his knife raised to strike again.
Anastasia flinched.
But Bastian didn't even hesitate.
With one swift motion, he lifted his hand and unleashed a blast of light straight into the intruder's chest.
A guttural, inhuman scream tore through the room as the masked figure staggered, golden eyes flickering. His body convulsed, dark energy writhing around him like smoke before—
Nothing.
He disintegrated.
Ash.
Gone.
Anastasia gasped, her wide eyes darting from the empty space where the attacker had stood to Bastian, whose glow was beginning to fade. He was breathing hard, still gripping her like he was afraid she'd slip away.
"What the hell just happened?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Who was that? And what—"
"That was a demon," Bastian said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Yes, they exist. Yes, they're after you."
Her head spun. "And you—"
"I'm an angel," he admitted. "And I will protect you. Always."
Her stomach flipped. This was insane. Completely and utterly insane. But deep down, in the part of her soul that had been whispering to her all along, she knew.
She knew he was telling the truth.
He gently gripped her arms. "We need to get out of here. Now."
Anastasia barely nodded when—
CRASH.
The sound of ceramic shattering made them both whip around.
In the doorway, Rose stood frozen, a cup lying in pieces at her feet.
But she wasn't looking at them.
Her wide eyes were locked onto the massive white wings still unfurled behind Bastian.
"Uh…" Rose's voice was small, barely a breath. "Warren… I think you're a little early for Halloween."