Revelation leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed tight, watching Genesis stir the pot of chicken noodle soup with slow, careful motions. The kitchen smelled warm—garlic, thyme, broth simmering over low heat—but the air between the two women felt colder than the tiles beneath their feet.

The Angels moved quietly around them. Joy chopped carrots at the far counter. Katherine poured soup into a thermos for the hospital run. Mia wiped down already spotless surfaces. None of them spoke. They knew better than to interrupt when Revelation was trying—and failing—to bridge the chasm she’d helped create.

“How long are you going to keep ignoring me and giving me the silent...