When he went into the room, Rohan's brows shot up in astonishment at what he saw. Angel wasn't sitting on the sofa; he was in the air, flying around the room and giggling, little wings flapping behind him.
Rohan's eyes zeroed in on the open window where his son was heading, and he moved swiftly to grab him before he could fly outside. He shut the window with narrowed eyes as he sensed a faint, disappearing presence lingering in the room, like someone had been there before his return, leaving behind only the barest trace, almost undetectable if not for his sharp senses.
But it was impossible for anyone to have come in during the few minutes he was gone, for he had locked the door with a key when he carried Belle away.
"Your wings have sprouted," Rohan remarked in surprise, looking at his happy son, who was flapping the black wings and struggling to break free. But Rohan held him tightly to prevent it. "You can't use them, son, at least not here. Put them back where they're safe."
