Life in the Big Apple was perfect. Designer shoes, tailored sins, a sleek Park Avenue loftI had it all. Reaping souls, rocking stilettos, and keeping Hell's paperwork in order? Please. I was born to multitask in Prada.
Then he happened.
One soul. One repo. And suddenly, I'm dodging divine daggers and celestial judgment, caught in the middle of a heavenly turf war with stakes higher than my Louboutins. My target should've been just another name on the ledger, but now I've got angels gunning for me, demons whispering behind my back, and a dangerously golden-winged, infuriatingly perfect angel breathing down my neck.
Angelusthe most condescending celestial ever sculpted from starlightis supposed to be my enemy. So why do we keep ending up tangled in shadows and secrets... and each other?
Turns out we're not enemies.
We're not allies.
We're pawns in a game older than Heaven and darker than Hell.
Now the fate of our soulsand a love we never saw cominghangs in the balance.
And this time, even I might not be able to shop my way out of it.
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