Chapter 87: The Devil That Wouldn’t Die

The world tilted.

Bella's breath hitched, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Gabriel was dead.

She had killed him.

She had ripped his throat out with her own fangs, watched his body collapse, felt his blood coat her hands.

And yet—

Here he was.

Standing at the edge of the clearing, smirking, untouched, alive.

Impossible.

Dante's entire body locked up, his blue eyes flashing with murderous intent.

The air around them thickened, suffocating, drowning in the sheer weight of his rage.

"You're dead."

Dante's voice was lethal, raw, low enough to send a shiver through the warriors standing nearby.

Gabriel just tilted his head, amused.

"I was," he said, stepping forward. *"But death is temporary. Power? That lasts forever."

Bella stiffened.

Because something was wrong.

Gabriel felt different.

His scent was the same—but darker, twisted.

And his eyes?

They weren't the steely gray she remembered.

They were black.

Pure, endless, soulless black.

"What the fuck are you?" Bella whispered.

Gabriel's smirk widened.

"Something you were never prepared to fight."

Then—

The ground beneath them shook.

Bella stumbled back, her vision blurring as a sudden wave of suffocating power exploded from Gabriel's body.

Dante's snarl ripped through the night.

"Get behind me, Bella."

But it was too late.

The shadows moved.

And then—

Everything fell apart.