But before the descendants could move, Jared spoke, his voice calm, his manner unhurried. And he said only one word: “Cameron.”

The next instant, something landed solidly beside us. I jumped back and watched as Cameron unfolded to his full height. He paused to wink at me before turning toward the advancing crazy people. I looked toward the sky, wondering where he’d come from. Was he in the trees? Then I remembered what happened to him.

“Cameron,” I said, worried about his injuries. He’d been shot. Four times. And now he was running through the forest and jumping out of trees? “Are you crazy?”

“Shhh.” He shushed me like he didn’t want his secret getting out, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m a little surprised,” Vincent said, but Jared had pushed me farther behind him, and I couldn’t really make out whom he was talking to.

“Oh, yeah?” Cameron said, his voice a little too joyous. That boy loved to fight.

I peeked around Jared’s arm.

“You’re one of us. You’re nephilim. Why are you fighting with that thing?”

“I’m not one of you.” Cameron raked a cold gaze over him. “You’re a copy of a copy of a copy.” He threw back his shoulders. “I’m the real deal, bitch.”

And he liked using the word “bitch.” A lot. How was he even here? He’d been shot. A lot.

“Take her,” Jared said to him without looking away from Vincent.

“What? No, wait.”

Cameron started to pull me away, but I was tired of being manhandled, of decisions being made for me. Before I could make my case—which could be seen as either noble or psychotic, due to our current circumstances—the descendants rushed Cameron. He had no choice but to shove me out of the way. So he shoved. Really hard.

I felt oddly airborne for a brief moment before crashing and skidding across the forest floor to slam against a fallen log. Things like this seemed to be happening a lot to me lately.

The air rushed out of my lungs with the impact. And my hair caught in some twigs. I looked back just in time to see Jared stop an axe from plummeting into his neck, but the length of a machete sliced across his back as another descendant attacked him from behind. A scream escaped before I could stop it. I slapped my hands over my mouth, trying not to draw Jared’s attention from the task at hand: surviving.

I caught sight of Cameron. He ducked, barely escaping an axe aimed at his temple, before he swung around and smashed a fist into the culprit’s jaw. It broke under the pressure of Cameron’s punch.

In seconds, the descendants had been downed. It was hardly a match. Though both Cameron and Jared had been hurt, the descendants would be lucky if they were still breathing after today. So it was too bad when Vincent walked me forward, one arm locked around my throat, the other wrapped tightly around my head. I was clutching on to his wrists, my toes barely touching the rocky ground as he stopped some distance away from the two victors.

The slightest effort on his part would snap my neck. I knew it. Cameron knew it. And Jared knew it.

Jared stopped what he was doing—namely delivering one last blow to his adversary—and turned on us, still crouched from his most recent effort, still panting from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He lowered his head even farther as he eyed Vincent from under his dark lashes. I’d seen that look before. I knew what he was capable of. Vincent was a fool. He may succeed in killing me, but he’d never make it out of this forest alive. He would never see the fruit of his delusional endeavors.

I expected him to say something smart-alecky. He loved to talk. But apparently, he’d learned not to give an archangel a chance to recover. Without further ado, he tightened the muscles in his arms, and I felt my head being jerked to the side.

Knowing I was taking my last breath was not as scary as I’d thought. I had resigned myself to dying a few moments earlier. I felt bad, though. For my grandparents, mostly. And for Brooke and Glitch. I knew how I would feel if they’d had their necks broken in a forest. I even felt bad for Cameron. He had literally been created to protect me, the prophet. How would he feel about my death? It was hardly his fault, but Cameron was so male. He’d blame himself. I was sure of it.

But out of everyone I felt bad for, I mostly felt bad for myself. As selfish as it sounded, I would never get to see Jared again. That thought alone was enough to make me angry.

I had put up with this guy’s crap for long enough. I saw Jared start forward. Cameron right on his heels. They would never get to Vincent in time. My vision was already darkening and pain rocketed down my spine. Vincent may take my life, but he was going to take something else with him today. A really bad scar.

Adrenaline surged through me at the speed of light, liquid and red and hot. I lifted my feet off the ground and used Vincent’s own arms as leverage. Pushing up on his elbows with all the strength I could conjure, I forced my weight down and slid out from under his grip. Without taking the time to blink, I spun around and lashed out at him, raking my nails across his face and neck in one vicious swipe.

Then I wobbled back, waited for his final blow, the one that would end my life.

But he just stood there. Looking at me. All surprised.

I blinked and glanced at Jared when he slid to a stop behind me. He pulled me back against him, his gaze fixed as we watched Vincent. He had five huge gashes on his face and neck. Exactly where I’d struck. But my fingernails couldn’t have made anything that deep.