I was born to kill angels. Now I'd raze both Heaven and Hell to protect one.

While mortals scratched their first words into clay tablets, I was already knee-deep in angel blood.

I am Nephithar, Hell's most feared general-the Devil's own creation, forged in the heart of the abyss for one purpose: war.

My name is a curse on angel tongues, my legend painted in divine gore. I take pleasure in battle, in the chaos of slaughter, in the soft rustle of angel feathers torn from broken wings-trophies I've hoarded like sacred relics.

But then I saw them.

Damaged wings, glimmering in Hell's gloom with a silvery lilac hue. An angel. Broken. Beautiful. And suddenly, none of my victories mattered.

I wanted those wings. I wanted her.

Every rule I was born to enforce no longer matters. I would defy the orders of the Devil himself for another glimpse-another touch. I was made for war, but I'm starting one of my own.

For her.