Azrael stood, his white robes lightly brushing the cracked alley floor. His voice was quiet but sharp.
"This isn't your business, vampire."
Cain stiffened, fangs still half-bared. "You think just because you glow and float that I'll back off? It attacked her. I want answers."
Azrael didn't blink. His gaze was steady. Cold. "It's not a matter for the living. This is angelic jurisdiction now."
Cain's hands clenched. He took a step forward.
Then Mabel grabbed his arm. "Cain. Don't."
He looked at her, frustrated. "You saw what it did."
She leaned in close, whispering low. "They're not just angels. Look at the shimmer. That's not ornamental. That's Michael. And Azrael. And Uriel. These aren't watchers or messengers. These are Heaven's blades. Archangels. If they're all here... we stay the hell out of the way."
Cain exhaled through his nose, sharp and bitter. But he backed off.
