“No,” he answers simply. “We’re safe, London. We’re free.”
I breathe a little easier, accepting this. In another few months we’ll be leaving the country, and then I can finally relax, too far away for my demons to follow.
As we leave the cemetery, I study Grayson’s profile. Thinking about how, if I was truly safe, he wouldn’t be here. Then I shake the thought from my head and take his hand in mine.
Grayson says I’m his angel, but it’s he who watches over me. My dark protector.
Not all demons are born to the dark. And not all angels seek the light. Sometimes our circumstance demands a fusion of both. There is no good and evil. Only the time spent between both heaven and hell, where we find our peace.
And love.
Even the vilest of monsters deserve to be loved.
* * *