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50. There's Nothing Little About This Falco.
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2025-05-17 23:06:45
AlphaKellyIf you made it to chapter 50, please, leave me a “Hello” Hello! Hehe 👋
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Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 133. My Father And Adriana.
Castle.The Lucchese mansion looked like a fortress in the dead of night, every archway cloaked in shadows, every corner watched by the silent vigilance of guards who never seemed to sleep. I had grown up in these walls. I knew the creak of every step, and the cold draft of every hallway. Yet tonight, as I sneaked Angel in behind me, I tried to see it through Angel's eyes and the place felt foreign—like we were trespassers in a house that was supposed to be mine.The guards did not question me when I waved us through; they wouldn’t dare. Still, I could feel their eyes on my back, suspicious, as though they could sense something amiss.Angel limped quietly beside me, his crutches clicking softly against marble as I guided him toward my wing. My mind was on autopilot—one part aware that at any moment, if someone noticed, if a whisper reached my father, all of this could blow up. Another part, the reckless part, was too consumed with Angel’s presence to care.I had just pushed open th
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 132. The Fugitive And The Ring.
Angel.The question slipped out of me before I could stop it, “What the hell is on your finger?”For a second, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe my mind was just playing tricks because exhaustion had been eating away at me since I broke out. Maybe the dim light had warped the color. Maybe Castle had just slipped on some meaningless piece of gold he’d picked up from the floor of his mansion.But the way his body stilled—the way silence settled over him like a blade pressed against the throat—told me everything.It was exactly what I feared.He didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t yank his hand back, didn’t make a joke about me overreacting. Castle, who always had an answer ready, who always carried words like weapons, had nothing to say. And his silence was worse than any confession.My chest felt tight, but there was no time for me to deal with it. I couldn’t afford to break, not when the clock was already ticking.The FBI would notice my absence any second. My face would go from
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 131. Adriana’s Stupid Gold Ring.
Castle.I had stood in many rooms where lives were signed away with blood, but I never knew how suffocating ink could feel until today.The courthouse smelled of disinfectant and paper. It had pale walls and stale air that almost knocked the breath out of my lungs. There was no music, no warmth, only the scraping of pens, the murmurs of lawyers, the droning of an official who had done this too many times to care.Adriana looked radiant, of course. She always looked radiant—daughter of a bitch. Her smile was polished into perfection, and her hand was firm on mine as though she was the one guiding me through it. Or maybe, it was a way to make sure I stayed by her side and didn't attempt to escape. Not like she could keep me here if I wanted to escape. But I wouldn't do it anyway, because of Angel.My father stood proudly, his presence filling the space like a looming shadow, as if this was not a marriage but another transaction.The clerk laid out the documents with practiced boredom.
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 130. I was Free.
Angel.The metal door slammed shut behind me with the kind of finality that made my stomach clench. My wrists were cuffed in front of me, the chain biting into raw skin I hadn’t realized was already rubbed red. Two guards escorted me into the sterile, humming corridor, and for a moment, I thought this was just another round of questioning with the faceless DOJ men who stared at me like I was already guilty.But then I saw Cyrus. He was waiting inside the small interrogation room, his broad shoulders hunched in a way I wasn’t used to. “Sit him down,” Cyrus told the guards. His voice was clipped, but it wasn’t angry. That unsettled me more than anger would have.I had my own reasons to be angry with him. He had not even given me the benefit of the doubt before I was arrested and thrown into this federal holding cell. But then, with my records, I could understand why he didn't do anything. Also, he was just following protocol and the orders came from above him. So there was really n
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 129. I'd Make Them Choke On It.
Castle.When I spat those words—over my dead body—into my father’s face, I meant them. I didn’t wait for his response. I ended the meeting right there, my temper coiled so tightly I thought my veins might burst.The others looked rattled, but I didn’t care. If they thought I was reckless, so be it. If they thought I was weak, let them choke on their own doubts. My man was sitting in a federal cell, and I wasn’t going to let them carve him up like a sacrificial lamb.I stormed out, Tomas close on my heels. The night air hit me sharp and cold, but it didn’t cool me. It only stoked the fire burning in my chest.“Castle,” Tomas muttered, lowering his voice as we crossed the churchyard toward the cars, “your father’s going to push this. You can’t keep going head-to-head with him.”I turned on him, too agitated to soften the edges of my tone. “Do you understand what this means, Tomas? He’s not just threatening my seat anymore. Angel’s been taken. By the feds. Do you know what that means?”
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 128. Memory.
Angel.The cell was quiet except for the distant drip of water from some leaky pipe, steady as a ticking clock. The walls smelled of rust, sweat, and defeat. I sat there, my back against the cold concrete, staring at the faint crack that ran across the ceiling like a scar. That crack became the anchor of my thoughts, because if I didn’t latch onto something, I’d unravel completely.Waiting for trial was like waiting for an execution without knowing the exact day. It's only been a few hours, but I was already going crazy. The silence gave me too much time—time to think, time to remember, time to hate myself, and time to ache for Castle.I still remembered the first time I laid eyes on him—at the masked ball. I had walked into that ballroom under false pretenses, my suit sharp, and my mask concealing my real identity. I wasn’t there to dance or to smile; I was there to investigate. The Bureau had assigned me there to gather more information about the mafia. But then, I saw him. He h
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