Kallisto’s POV

"I'll tell you later," Apex simply answers, kissing my forehead "Now, let's go."

Frustration squeezes my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I want to yell at him for avoiding the question. Again.

Zephyr's right. This is my life, not his. How I healed myself a few days ago seems to show that I'm a Raphael Messenger—whatever that is. At least, that's what I'm assuming from Apex's conversation with Zephyr.

I cross my arms over ...