The Fallen Angel and His Demon Mate

Prologue “Sly! Wait!” Joel’s voice was a frantic anchor, but Sylvester was already moving. With a violent jerk, Sly ripped the IV from his arm. He didn't feel the plastic tear at his skin or the sharp sting of the needle’s exit; his adrenaline was a roaring furnace, incinerating any physical sensation. A bead of dark blood welled and began to trickle down his forearm, but he didn't even blink. His vision was swimming in a predatory amber tint. “She played me, man! She f*cking played me!” Sly snarled. Beneath his skin, Hawk, his wolf, was clawing at the surface, howling for a hunt that was thirty days overdue. “I get that, Sly. I do,” Joel said, stepping into his path with palms turned outward, a silent plea for calm. “But you’re running on fumes. You can’t just go in guns blazing without a plan.” “Sylvester!” Dr. Boyd’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip. “Get back in that bed!” Sly took a steadying breath, trying to force the growl back down his throat. He respected the doctor, but the walls of the infirmary felt like a cage. “Doc, I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice tight with the effort of being respectful. “You just woke up from a month-long coma, Sly,” Joel reminded him, his eyes full of a pity that Sly absolutely hated. “You aren't fine.” “Joel, I said I’m—” “GET BACK IN THAT BED!” The command didn’t just ring in the room; it resonated in Sly’s very bones. He spun toward the door. Allie stood there, her posture rigid and her eyes flashing with the unmistakable steel of a Luna. She looked less like a friend and more like a mother wolf ready to pin a disobedient pup to the dirt. Under the weight of her Alpha-born authority, Sly’s knees gave way—not from weakness, but from instinct. He had no choice but to comply. He sat heavily on the edge of the mattress, the springs groaning under his weight. “Lie down.” Allie snapped her fingers. Sly gritted his teeth, swung his legs over the side, and leaned back against the headboard. Allie walked to the foot of the bed, her gaze locking onto his, refusing to let him look away. “I get it, Sly. You’re pissed. You’ve been betrayed in the worst way possible,” Allie said, her voice softening just enough to let the empathy through. “She played all of us—even me. And I can read souls, Sly. I still gave her the benefit of the doubt because she was your mate, and a fcking angel to boot. But it turns out even the holiest of souls are full of sht.” She leaned forward, her expression turning to stone. “But you are not going anywhere until you are cleared by Dr. Boyd. Do you understand?” “But, Luna!” “No buts,” she snapped. “You and Hawk need time to recuperate. You need your strength back—the strength you had before you ever met Anna. I need the guard who was once worthy of protecting the Beta of this pack, not a wounded animal looking for a suicide mission.” Sly’s frustration boiled over, and he slammed his fists into the mattress. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the sterile room. “Acting like a brat is only going to delay this further,” Allie warned. Sly let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders finally sagging. “Fine.” “Good.” He looked up at her, the anger replaced by a hollow, aching void. “Can you at least tell me where she is?” “We don’t know for sure. Uriel and Aria are out tracking her now,” Allie answered. “Where?” “They’re heading toward San Antonio.” Sly frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Texas? Why there of all places?” “Because,” Allie said, her pity returning, “that’s where Aria learned that’s where Anna is actually from.” “She told me she was from—” Sly stopped. He caught the look in Allie’s eyes—a grim, silent confirmation of his worst fear. Every whispered secret, every shared memory, every piece of her history had been a fabricated trap. He closed his eyes against the sting of it. “Never mind.” Allie leaned in closer, the intensity in her eyes making it clear she wasn't just speaking as his Luna, but as a strategist who knew exactly how outmatched he was. “Sly, you’ll get your chance at redemption,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, steady vibration. “But you need to be at full health to take it. She’s a demon now. She isn't the woman you remember, and she sure as hell isn't reflecting on the people she’s wronged. She’s driven by revenge, Sly. She’s a narcissist—a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Sly opened his mouth to protest, but Allie held up a sharp hand to silence him. “She’s dangerous. If you go now, without a plan of action and without your strength, she will wipe the floor with you. Especially in the state you’re in.” She paused, letting the weight of his physical weakness sink in. “I’m not saying you can’t go. I’m saying go when you and Hawk are at your best. Don't give her the satisfaction of killing a man who can barely stand.” Sly’s hands clenched the hospital sheets, the fabric bunching under his white-knuckled grip. The image of Anna—not as the angel he loved, but as a demon who would laugh at his weakness—was a bitter pill to swallow. “Fine,” he managed to choke out through a dry throat. “But the second the Doc clears me... I’m gone.” “I wouldn't expect anything less,” Allie replied firmly.