I don't know what falls under "normal," but we fall into the closest thing to it in the weeks after. Sinclair disappears for a few hours a day on "business" and I fill my time with learning how to make drinks at the bar. I'm not super great at it but I get great tips and free booze so I don't mind.

Theodore sits with me most of the time. Sometimes Oliver tags along too, but not often enough to be a notable presence—not that it helps that all he does is scowl the entire time.

Theo sits at end of the bar, sipping orange juice and ignoring the woman that's slid in beside him. Her hand rests on his arm as he sends her a pleasant albeit dismissive smile and inclines his head to me as I approach.

"You can take some time off if you want," I murmur as I wipe down a glass with a white rag. "I promise I won't tell Sin."

He gives me a skeptical look and I wince.

"Or run away," I add.

The woman at his side tightens her grip around his bicep. "Do you dance?"

"Not really," he says, then gently pries her hand from his arm and sets it on her lap. He draws his attention back to me. "I'll stay here with you."

The woman makes a miffed sound and rises, already setting her sights on another attractive male across the floor. She's pretty enough—brown hair cut to her collarbones, a flirty albeit welcoming smile, and a figure thick with curves.

I frown at Theo. "Don't you need sex to survive?"

"Yes," he says easily.

"Okay," I murmur, eyeing him curiously. Either he's incredibly dedicated to his job or none of the people around here suit his needs. I've never seen Theo even glance appreciatively at another person before—female or male. "So...how do you survive?"

A small smile flits over his lips. "By having sex."

"Okay," I say, waiting for him to go on.

He doesn't.

"You're weird," I grumble as I refill his orange juice with a bottle in the cooler below me. Since when is Theo someone who keeps to himself? Regardless, I have the sense not to push anymore. If it's something he doesn't feel comfortable talking about, it's probably worth hiding.

"And you're nosy," he says, but I can tell he's biting down a smile around the rim of his cup.

A group of guys gesture for a refill on the other side and I quickly follow suit. My hands busy themselves as I glance out into the sea of people, absentmindedly looking for a head of dark hair. Sin should be back any minute now.

Instead, my eyes graze on a shock of platinum blonde hair and my heart drops to my stomach. It disappears before I can get a chance to see their face.

I have to be imagining things. There's no way the angel bloods would send anyone they intend to keep alive knowing how deadly Sinclair is.

One of the men in front of me says something. I glance back down, startling when I see the beer on tap overflowing from their cup and onto the bar.

I force an apologetic smile to my face and grip the rag tightly to hide the tremble in my fingers.

After I finish their drinks, I take a few steps back and rake my gaze over the crowd. Sure enough, his head is turned away again but it swivels as if he can sense the weight of my stare.

Brown eyes widen as they meet mine. I know they match the same golden shade as mine underneath his contacts. Sean is already the youngest working member on our team and the baffled look on his face somehow makes him appear even younger than his seventeen years. Then again, it doesn't help that his hair hasn't darkened out of the white-blonde shade that most children grow out of after puberty and that his cheeks are rounded with youth.

I wonder if I look as ill as I feel inside as he strides forward to meet me at the bar.

"Calli?"

I don't know what to say at first, so I just stare at him and absentmindedly tug my sweater sleeve further down my arm so he can't see the scales that lurk underneath.

"How are you alive?" he breathes, eyebrows pinching together as he rakes his eyes down my body. "We thought you died. Delia didn't know that he's—" he cuts off, glancing around nervously as if the monster that is Sinclair Black himself is going to emerge from the corner and bite his head off. "Well, you know. He's not like the rest of them."

Delia—our leader—is the oldest and fiercest of the angel bloods. She's handpicked all of us and taught us how to fight and kill as soon as we were old enough to hold up the weight of a gun.

She's as clever as they come. There's no way she wasn't aware that Sin was an upper-level demon before she sent me out to end him.

"How did you get in here?" I say, resisting the urge to push him out the door. We've never been particularly close (not that I've been with any of them), but the thought of getting him tangled up in this mess makes me sick to my stomach.

"I'm eighteen," he frowns. "My birthday was a month ago. Not that it matters. We need to end this."

"What you need to do is leave." I gesture to the open door. "If you want to live, anyway. There's no way you'll be able to kill him before he can get to you first."

He looks hesitant as he looks around, then leans forward and whispers, "I know how to kill him."

I stiffen, wiping my clammy palms on my jeans. "What?"

"Delia told me," he whispers, looking smug as he leans back. "She was planning on sending Danny but I knew I'd be better. He'll never expect me, you know?" A boyish grin tugs over his mouth.

"Does she know you're here?"

He winces. "No."

"Sean, if you stay here you're going to die. Do you understand me?" I fight the urge to shake him as he leers defiantly at me. "Go home. Please."

"What are you doing here?" he interjects, glancing at the healthy state of my body suspiciously. "Why aren't you dead?"

"He's taken me as his prisoner," I say, which is mostly true. At least it was at one point.

He raises his brow, looking pointedly at my new clothing and the tip jar filled to the brim with bills beside me.

I grimace, glancing nervously at Theodore. He watches us curiously but doesn't make an attempt to step forward. I don't blame him; Sean is the perfect assassin if solely for the fact that he looks like he couldn't hurt a fly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark figure step through the doorway. Sin is already heading toward me, looking relaxed with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans and his dark shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The small bulge in his waistband indicates a pistol sits readily at his side.

I turn back to Sean. He pales a bit, shifting uneasily on his feet.

"Go," I say, already moving forward. "I won't tell him you're here but you have to leave. Now."

He hesitates then nods as he disappears back into the crowd. I meet Sin halfway, wrapping my arms around his waist and doing my best to tug him in the opposite direction.

"You're back," I murmur as I press a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek. A strand of inky hair escapes his bun and falls over his forehead so I gently brush it back. "How was your day?"

He takes my lingering hand in his own and presses a kiss to my palm. "It was fine," he says, then narrows his eyes. "Everything okay?"

I smile, hoping the action doesn't look too forced. "I'm good."

He makes a doubtful sound but tugs me along anyway, keeping my fingers tucked into his as we head into the back room. "You don't usually greet me so enthusiastically."

As much as Sin enjoys touching me at every given chance, I've never been a fan of PDA. Our greetings are often cut short until we find some time alone together.

"I just felt like it today," I say, glancing back at Theo as he waves at me. He doesn't bother to stick around as much anymore once Sin gets back. More of his secrets he refuses to share with me, I guess.

Sinclair looks unconvinced but doesn't say anything as he pulls me through the doorway and into his private rooms.

"So," I say, already making a beeline for the vodka sitting on the counter. I deserve a drink after handling today's mess. "What do you do when you're out these days anyway? Kill people?"

Sin snorts, settling down on the leather couch. "If only my days were so exciting. No, angel. I have people to do that for me."

"Right," I mumble, not bothering to pour any into a glass before I take a swig straight from the bottle. Hearing him talk about killing people for cash doesn't alarm me anymore. I can't tell if it's because I've come to care about him or that my moral compass is just slowly twisting from all the time I've spent in his company. "So what then?"

"Finding business partners," he says. "Going to their dinners and bullshit events. The rich love them."

I squint at his casual attire. The image of Sin sitting at a table filled with men in suits dressed in jeans makes a smile pull at my lips. "You go to events dressed like that?"

He raises an unconcerned eyebrow. "I meet with them to discuss the people that need their throats cut. Not for a tea party."

I make an amused sound in the back of my throat as I tip the bottle back for another sip but I don't say anything else as the thought of something happening to Sin pops into my head again. My stomach twists as I consider what could have happened if I hadn't caught Sean on time.

My fingers absentmindedly tighten around the neck of the bottle. What did he say again? That Delia plans on sending Danny to fulfill the mission I've clearly given up on completing?

I've never been particularly close with the angel bloods. We've always been an odd sort of family—a mixed group of unwanted children Delia scrounged from off the streets with divinity flowing through our veins. Following orders has never been my strong suit and Delia gives a lot of them. And unlike the rest of the children I matured with, my strong sense of defiance only grew with age.

As you can imagine, I was hardly Delia's favorite. Maybe that's why the rest of them began to dislike me as well.

I don't realize Sin has come up to stand in front of me until he takes the bottle of alcohol from my hands and sets it on the counter.

"What's wrong with you?" he says, sighing as I reach for the vodka again. He grabs it like I'm a naughty child and puts it out of arms-reach.

"Nothing." I frown, leaning back into the bar in what I hope appears something close to casualness. "Can I have that back?"

"No."

"I didn't get my free drink today." I cross my arms over my chest and force my features into neutrality even though I know what his response will be. "So that's at least five more sips. Solid ones, I mean."

Sin gives me a strange look, then says, "Theo told me you made yourself a mojito today."

Dammit. Screw Theo and his stupid check-ins. Sin has demanded multiple updates per day since my last escape attempt.

"Tell me what's what's wrong." He softens as he steps forward and cups his large hand under my jaw, gently forcing my chin up so I look directly into his intense storm-cloud eyes. "And don't say it's nothing."

I bite my lip, the words desperate to spill from my mouth. To be honest, most of it is just unfiltered emotion—the indescribable sensation of betrayal I've suppressed all this time from being thrown out by my only family, the knowledge that I'm probably not missed. Not to mention the fact that they plan to come after the only person I've ever given my heart to.

I sigh, leaning my head into his palm. I've been in some pretty loaded messes in the past but this definitely tops them all so far.

His brows furrow. "Angel?"

My mouth opens to release the full brunt of my burdens but stops short as a flash of paleness catches the corner of my eye.

I stop breathing for a second as I notice the form that's crept in after us, quietly moving forward to make a dive for Sinclair's exposed back. Something metallic catches the light in his hands and I barely think as I push Sin away and gripe for the pistol-sized lump in the waistband of his pants.

Sean's eyes widen as he notices the steel in my hand. My body moves with the robotic instinct that's been ingrained in my head since I was a little girl, raising the gun to his face and flipping off the safety. Sean's arm quickly whips out, but it's already too late.

His blade embeds within the flesh of my arm as I release the trigger.