“The same day I returned you to duty.”
Alex did a quick calculation and realized with a start that what seemed a lifetime ago had only been three days. So—the closer Armageddon got, the faster time passed? Great. And now she was to be saddled with Riley and “therapy” as well? She favored the psychiatrist with a baleful look but directed her words to Roberts. “You couldn’t have told me then?”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. This was out of both our hands.”
“Still—”
“Besides, given all that’s going on, it might not be a bad idea.”
All that’s going on? Alex stood for a long moment without responding, going first cold, then hot. An iron band closed around her chest. Tightened. You have no goddamn idea what’s going on.
Roberts continued. “Dr. Riley is here because you need the support. I know the signs of trouble, Alex, and I’m seeing them in you.”
Aware of Riley’s keen observation, Alex lifted her chin and stepped back from the chair’s support. “I don’t have time for this. I have files to—”
“Make time.” Roberts’s uncompromising voice stopped her at the door. “I meant what I said about not wanting to lose you.”
Then don’t make me dredge up things that are best left buried.
“Staff—”
“It’s an order, Detective.”
Anger flared inside her. Sudden, icy, raw. The tiny little cracks that had begun forming in her facade over the last few days widened. Roberts and Riley wanted her to talk? To share her secrets? Fine. She spun to face them.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said. She flicked a look from her boss to the psychiatrist. “Maybe I do need to get some things off my chest. What do you suggest we start with, Dr. Riley? Oh, I know. How about the nightmares I keep having about eighty thousand Nephilim babies being turned into Lucifer’s army against humankind? That has to be worth a session or two, don’t you think? Or maybe we should talk about how my angel soulmate has been put in charge of protecting me from the Fallen One that’s been following me. Too complicated? No problem, I have lots of other issues we can discuss instead. In fact, here’s a real doozy. Why don’t we talk about how I haven’t been able to let the One’s son touch me because I can’t get past his father raping me?”
Roberts made an odd choking noise and went pale. Riley regarded her narrowly.
Shit. She hadn’t intended to blurt out that last one.
“Alex—” Riley began.
“Don’t,” she grated, hating that the door at her back was all that held her upright. “You could have backed me up from the start, Riley. You could have told him everything he needed to know over the phone.”
“No. I couldn’t. Not in good conscience,” the psychiatrist said, “and not when I agree with him. I told you in Vancouver that you can’t keep pretending you can do this alone. You need to talk—”
“No,” Alex snarled. The remainder of her facade shattered, raining across her psyche in shards and drifting dust. “I don’t. In fact, you know what? I don’t need to do any of this. Not anymore. I’m done. With you, with them, with everything. As far as I’m concerned, the entire goddamn world can go to Hell.”
She wrenched open the door and stalked out of Roberts’s office through the silence, past the stares, and away from Aramael.
Chapter 32
Bloody Hell. Aramael stared after Alex as the outer office door swung shut behind her. The shock of a dozen mortals lay like a weighted blanket over the room. Only a few had been close enough to Roberts’s office to hear her actual words, but those words would spread faster than wildfire when people began talking. Murmurings had already started. Bloody, bloody Hell.
Aramael hesitated, torn between going after her or attempting some kind of mitigation in her wake. No. Like it or not, he would have to leave Alex unprotected for an instant. Heaven itself needed to get involved in this crisis. This—all of this, including Alex right now—was beyond his ability to contain. He strode toward the file room at the back of the office and, as soon as he was out of sight of prying eyes, pulled out of the mortal realm.
Verchiel, blessedly, was in her office and on her feet the instant she saw him.
“Aramael! The woman—what’s wrong?”
“We have a problem.” He filled her in on the past few mortal minutes. “We need to do some kind of damage control. The mortals—”
“You know we cannot interfere like that.”
He scowled. “Excuse me?”
“What’s done is done, Aramael. It is beyond our control.”
“Verchiel, she just told half her colleagues about Armageddon. We cannot sit by and do nothing.”
“We can.” She held up a hand to forestall his words. “And we must. The mortals are going to have to handle a great deal if Lucifer’s plan for the Nephilim comes to fruition. Perhaps it is for the best that they know.”
“Then you’ll lose her.”
“I don’t understand.”
Clenching his hands, he shoved aside the ache in his chest. “Her relationship with Seth is in crisis,” he said. “She’s—”
“You haven’t—”
“No,” he snarled. “I haven’t. May I finish?”
Lips pursed, Verchiel waved at him to continue.
“Alex is already dealing with more than any mortal has ever had to. Her outburst today won’t necessarily be believed by her colleagues, but it will almost certainly ostracize her from them. If that happens, she’s going to break.”
A tiny frown appeared between the Highest’s brows. “This is speculation on your part.”
Aramael thought of the ravage he’d seen in Alex’s eyes as she emerged from Roberts’s office and realized her words had been overheard. The spark of something in her that he’d watched flicker, gutter, and then die.
“It’s fact, Verchiel. If you don’t fix this, you’ll lose her.” The wings at his back fought to unfurl against his next words. He held them—and his voice—rigidly in check. “And if you lose her, I guarantee you’ll lose any chance at Seth.”
Verchiel stared down at her desk. Then, with a sigh, she rose to her feet. “Go back. Watch her. I’ll take care of the mortals who overheard. Mika’el will speak with the woman.”
Chapter 33
Alex slammed into the bathroom stall, sat on the closed lid of the toilet, and stared at the beige metal door. She tangled her fingers into her hair and held tight as a great shudder rolled through her. Then another. Damn, she’d handled that badly. The memory of her supervisor’s shock surfaced. Hysteria bubbled inside her chest. Handled it? Who the hell was she trying to kid? She hadn’t handled anything. She’d lost it. Totally and completely. Lost it, made an ass of herself, and let her supervisor and Riley in further than she’d ever intended. Further than she’d ever let anyone.
Further than she could afford.
She closed her eyes, recalling the collective shock that had greeted her as she’d stormed out of Roberts’s office. She’d raised her voice as she’d struck out at Riley and Roberts—but how loud? How much had her colleagues overheard? She cringed from the memory of her words. Words filled with truths none of them should know, truths that would give Bell all the ammunition he needed to deep-six her career if he heard about them. When he heard. Because given the number of open mouths when she’d stormed out of Roberts’s office just now, it wouldn’t take long for the grapevine to do its damage.
Hell.