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147. Lying Is Weakness.
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2025-09-23 21:17:35
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Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 149. Coming At Them With A Vengeance.
Angel.When I was finally done with Tomas, I sat there in the suite with silence buzzing so loud it almost hurt.I should’ve been satisfied. I’d held my ground. I hadn’t screamed, hadn’t clawed, hadn’t sunk to the petty depths Tomas wanted me to. No, I had been calm and controlled. I cut him open with words and left him to bleed quietly in the corner. Mature, I told myself. That was maturity.But now that the dust had settled, I kept turning it over in my head. The things I had said to him, the truth about how he had decided long ago that he wasn’t worthy. That was his curse, yes. But wasn’t it also mine?Because here I was, pursued out of my own life like a stray dog.No badge. No gun. No office. No home. The Bureau had shut me out, slammed the door, and painted me a fugitive. And for what? For a crime I hadn’t even had the imagination to commit.They said Dan had left a video — a neat little suicide note wrapped in a bow — saying I killed him.I almost laughed when I first heard it
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 148. You Already Decided You're Unworthy.
Tomas. I never knew my father.It wasn’t that he left and I was too young to remember, or that he lived in another city and wrote letters I never got to read. No. My father was gone before I even had a chance to ask his name. Dead, they said. Though nobody ever told me how. What I knew for certain was that by the time I was old enough to form the question, my mother had no patience for it.My mother was a working woman, and not the kind they wrote songs about. She sold her time, her body, her laughter — all of it for men who couldn’t get it anywhere else. I grew up in the back rooms of a brothel, hearing beds creak and walls bang while I tried to sleep. By the time I was seven, I knew more about the sounds of sex than the sound of a father’s voice.And there was no guidance, no role model. No one to tell me how to stand tall, how to fight fair, how to be a man. My mother loved me, in the way she could. But she was always tired, always distracted. She tried to shield me from it, bu
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 147. Lying Is Weakness.
Castle.I didn’t even make it to the car before I felt the pull in my chest. Like an invisible string was tied to that hotel suite upstairs, to the man sitting inside it, and it tugged and tugged until I thought I’d cave and run back in.The door wasn’t far. I could’ve turned around, gone back up, begged Angel until he forgave me and followed me back to the mansion.Because for the last two weeks and some days, he had been in my bed and I had started to rely on him being there without realizing it.And now I was supposed to sleep without him? The thought made my chest lock. But I forced myself forward. Because weakness wasn’t an option. Not for me. Not for a don.That’s what I told myself, anyway. But the real test was waiting in my living room.My father was sitting with his hands resting on his cane, his eyes pinned on me like a hawk that had been waiting all night for its prey to stumble in.“Sit down,” he ordered.And like a fool, I did. Because that was what years of conditionin
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 146. Face To Face With Tomas.
Angel. When Castle said hotel suite, I almost laughed in his face. Almost.Because on the surface, it was a good idea. Too good, even. A safe space, away from the mansion, away from the suffocating walls, away from his father’s eyes and the gossiping mouths of every maid and soldier in that cursed house.But deeper down, I felt that bitter taste rise in my throat. Because really, where else did I have to go? Daisy’s place? The thought alone made my chest heavy. Daisy was my only friend left in this entire rotten city, and she already had enough to carry on her shoulders. The last thing I’d do was drag her into my mess, force her into a corner where she’d have to choose between helping me and betraying her country. No. I wouldn’t do that to her.So, yeah. The hotel sounded nice. A cage with better wallpaper, but still—it would buy me time, space, and air. And I needed all three.So I agreed. And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I asked him who would be watching me. Because of
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 145. The Only One I Trust Is Tomas.
Castle. I didn’t even know what the word done meant anymore.When Angel spat it out in the car, it felt like a blade hurled into the dark targeted at me and I swear my heart stuttered. The wheel trembled under my hands, but I couldn’t let him see it. I couldn’t let him smell weakness on me—not after the day I’d had, not after everything he’d vomited into the air between us, not after the meeting that had nearly bled me dry.Because the truth was this: I had already been hanging by a thread long before Angel opened his mouth.The mafia leaders under me had made sure of it. That meeting… fuck. It was supposed to be a show of strength, a reminder that I was still the one holding the reins, but it had turned into a frenzy. And the leaders were like sharks in the ocean. They had smelled my blood in the water, and they were out for more. My father’s interruption at the last meeting had fractured something I had been building for years. When he stormed in, ranting about Angel, about my
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 144. This Endless Loop.
Angel.“Yeah, run!” I shouted after him, the words tearing from my throat like fire. “Run, you little bitch! That’s what you always do. Run, bitch, run!”The door slammed shut, his footsteps vanishing into the silence. My chest heaved, and for a second I thought I had torn my own lungs out with those words. The rage was still boiling, still alive, chewing through my insides like acid. But the silence was suffocating. So I staggered back and slumped onto the bed, my fists curling into the sheets. I tried to breathe but the anger didn’t fade. I couldn’t stay here. I dragged myself to his closet, the smell of his cologne clinging to the air. My hand skimmed the rows of expensive suits and shirts until it landed on what I needed: a black hoodie. I yanked it off the hanger, pulled it over my head, and grabbed a black nose mask from the shelf.My reflection in the mirror made me laugh—dark and faceless, like a stranger even to myself. Maybe that was the point.On a second thought, I rea
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