Chapter 1

Angel's Pov:

Dark swallowed the room. Air heavy and oppressive. Choked with dampness, concrete thick in the nostrils, something metallic, metallic blood.

Every inch of me hurts. Not the sort you could grit your teeth against, but the sort that drips into your bones to take over your thinking:.

My wrists were burning from the ropes digging into them, my skin raw and torn from struggling. My arms hung, heavy and lifeless, no longer mine. Every breath was a fight—sharp, shallow gasps that barely filled my lungs.

I couldn't even tell how long I'd been here. Hours? Days? It didn't matter; time blurred when all you knew was pain.

They kept asking the same questions, voices cold, sharp, impatient. "Tell us." "We know you're lying." "Do you really want to do this the hard way?"

I had nothing to give them. I told them that—again and again—but my words meant nothing. They never did.

A new spate of dizziness hit me, my head swaying forward before I dragged myself upright. I couldn't pass out. I wouldn't. If I did… I wasn't sure I'd wake up.

Blood trickled from my temple, warm against my freezing skin. My fingers twitched, but I couldn't feel them anymore. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it meant I wouldn't feel the next hit.

Was this it? Was this how I ended?

No.

Not like this.

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood, forcing myself to hold on. Because if I let go, even for a second…

I might not get another chance.

The door creaked open.

My eyes sprang up. Terror struck me through my ribs like a blade.

No.

Not again.

The same man walked in. The one who had broken me, piece by piece, carved pain into my skin like some sort of master artist perfecting his craft. His smirk was cruel, dripping with amusement as if my suffering was his favorite show.

My heart slammed into my rib cage, panic clawing its way up my throat. No. Please, no. But my lips wouldn't move, my voice won't come.

"The boss will be here today," he said, his voice emotionless, as if I didn't matter at all.

My stomach twisted. My lungs felt too small for the air I needed.

"We'll see how long you can keep lying."

Something in me shattered.

"Boss?" The word barely made it past my lips, cracking like broken glass.

His smirk deepened. He picked up a knife, twirling it between his fingers like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.

"Yeah." He tossed the blade down carelessly, the sound echoing through the room like a death knell. "Alessio Moretti. Lucifer himself. He'll be the one asking the questions now."

A strangled sob ripped through me. My eyes went blurry as tears welled up, hot and useless.

"But I didn't do anything," I whispered, voice shaking, chest aching with the weight of my own helplessness.

For the first time, something flickered across his face—something almost human. His jaw clenched, his gaze shifted away, but it was gone too fast to mean anything.

"Pathetic," he muttered, though the word had no real venom. "My brother doesn't tolerate crying. So if you don't want it to get worse, just answer him. If you had answered me, maybe… I wouldn't have had to do this to you."

I sobbed before I could stop myself, shaking my entire body. This wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

"I didn't hide anything," I gasped between sobs, my own voice foreign to my ears. "Why are you doing this to me?"

His expression twisted, frustration bleeding into something darker, something almost regretful.

"Because it's my fucking job," he spat, running a hand through his hair as if he hated this—hated me. "I'll give you one last chance."

He crouched in front of me, fingers gripping my chin hard enough to bruise as he forced me to look into his eyes.

"Tell me," he hissed, "Who is Alessandro King to you?"

I blinked through the haze of pain.

Alessandro King?

"I don't know him," I whispered, my voice shaking, but the truth never mattered here, did it?

His grip tightened for half a second before he let go, disgust flashing across his face.

"I gave you the easy way," he said, his voice dropping to something colder, deadlier. "But you decided to be a bitch."

The door slammed shut.

I flinched, curling in on myself. The silence that is left behind from this is worse than the pain.

Now I know.

It is going to get worse.