Wings aren't supposed to be this much trouble...

On their sixteenth birthdays, foundlings grow wings—either angel wings or devil wings—and their value to the city depends on which one.

To Asher, devil wings mean the freedom to do what he pleases: using the city as a canvas for his graffiti art; being with his loving, devil-winged boyfriend; riding the dark, glittering streets without a care in the world.

But when his wings finally sprout, already three years late, they're angel wings. Now, the city expects his obedience. His freedom. His everything.

Bowing to the system and being a proper angel wing is the last thing Asher wants, except now with every plan he's ever made in pieces, he doesn't know what to do or where he belongs. He'd rather burn it all to the ground, but that's not an option…

Or is it?