Azrael attacked first.

Not full power—not yet. But fast, testing her reflexes and commitment. Black flame carved through the air where Gabriel had stood a heartbeat before, leaving scorched traces in its wake. She dodged smoothly, wings carrying her backward, blade coming up in defensive posture.

Good instincts. Professional technique. Exactly what he'd expect from a High Seraph trained in celestial warfare, drilled in divine tactics until they became reflex.

But she hadn't struck back. ...