Lilith had seen what her man did.
From across the void, she watched the distant bloom of fire and light—a sun born and dying in the span of three heartbeats.
The shockwave reached her island moments later, a warm wind carrying the scent of ash and annihilation. Her mouth, which had hung open in shock, slowly closed. Her crimson eyes, wide with surprise, narrowed into something else entirely.
She chuckled.
It was a low, rumbling sound that started in her chest and rolled up through her throat—a sound of genuine amusement, of admiration, of competition ignited.
He really went and did it, she thought. That beautiful, reckless angel.
She had been savoring her kills, playing with her prey, drawing out each death like a fine wine. But Gabriel had just shown her another way. Not better. Not worse. Different. And Lilith, above all else, hated to lose.
Fine. I can play that game too, you know.
