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65. On Desk Duty, Not Coffee Duty.
Huling Na-update:
2025-06-03 18:16:02
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Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 67. Back in the Field, But Not For Glory.
Angel.It's been a week since the interview and they've cleared me. Well, not exactly. They didn’t slap a medal on my chest or throw a parade. There were no apologetic back-pats or speeches about how they “should’ve trusted me from the start.”Hell, Cyrus didn’t even look me in the eye when he nodded at me after I heard the information. But the message was clear: I was too useful to be kept on the bench. So I was back.The elevator ride to the third floor felt like stepping barefoot into a war zone. I was practically bouncing with nerves. I had barely gotten two steps out when Carla, a short but very smart agent, appeared out of nowhere and shoved a file into my chest.“You’re on a task force now,” she said, not bothering with greetings. “It's fieldwork, so you might want to get acquainted with the case.”“A task force,” I echoed, flipping open the file as I made my way to my office, but the title on the first file hit me like a sucker punch to the ribs.Organized Crime Division: N
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 66. Bloody Truths.
CastleBy morning, the compound reeked of piss, sweat, and blood.The sun hadn’t even risen yet when I got out of bed. Tomas met me at the bottom of the stairs, armed with a gun and blood drying on the cuff of his shirt.“They’re not coming clean,” he said, walking beside me through the hallway. “Two of them are playing mute, one is crying for his mother, and Derek, he’s just… staring.”Of course he was. The ex-mercenary had that kind of patience and tolerance: the kind you either beat out of a man or bury together with him. “Start with the bookie,” I said, and he turned left, directing me to his location.The room Reno was in had no windows. Only a single flickering bulb that buzzed incessantly. He was tied to a steel chair, shirtless, bruised from jaw to ribs, and his mouth already painted in shades of red and purple.He looked up with glassy eyes when I entered, breathing in short, frantic bursts like a rabbit caught in a trap.“Don—Don, please,” he stammered, teeth clicking as he
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 65. On Desk Duty, Not Coffee Duty.
Angel.Desk duty was the official label for “we don’t trust you with a gun right now.” And although I still had my badge, it didn't hold much weight as my gun would.I had been flipping through case files for hours, eyes scanning names, dates, redacted lines that led nowhere. The flickering fluorescent light overhead buzzed like it knew that I was this close to snapping.My eyes burned from hours of cross-checking the files, hoping that I would see one that was related to the Mendez case. But Cyrus was too thorough and made sure there was no chance that I'd know what was going on with the case. The clock on the wall blinked past 4:32 pm. I leaned back in my chair, massaging the knot at the base of my neck, and I had just started wondering if an FBI agent could file a complaint for psychological warfare against its own bureaucracy, when the door creaked open.And in walked the last man I wanted to see on a bad afternoon, Daniel Flair.He strutted in like he owned the damn building, wh
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 64. Rot Festering In The Walls.
Castle. The moment Tomas pulled the car into Kaito’s territory, the streets started whispering. Men turned their faces away as we passed, mothers yanked children inside by the collar, and every rat with a name knew something had shifted. Because I didn’t come here often and when I did, it meant someone was already dead—they just hadn’t realized it yet. I rolled down the window slightly, letting the heat and tension soak into my bones. This part of the city always smelled like rust and dirt, so it's no wonder I didn't come here often. But Kaito had taken too much time, and the silence he returned was as loud as Rowan's betrayal. Tomas glanced at me from the driver’s seat as he slowly rolled the vehicle through the bumpy road. “Kaito has been too quiet,” I said, my fingers tapping lazily against my knee. “Like a dog waiting to see if his master would put him down for biting him in the hand.” “You think he’s involved?” “I think he’s either blind, dumb, or involved,” I muttered.
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 63. I Was Done Playing Defense.
Castle.I hadn’t stepped foot into the mansion in days, although it felt like weeks. Monday morning found me parked out front, staring at the place like it might open its mouth and spit me back out. The silence was heavier than usual. Even the breeze had the decency to hush as I walked in.Rowan's people were planning his funeral, and I allowed them. It was going to be a closed coffin burial, no procession and no eulogies carved from lies. It was just something to mark the end, tie a black bow around betrayal and call it grief. His body was already gone though, taken care of quietly, the way things like him should be.Still, I figured Adriana should be the one to sign off on the details. For all his sins, and there were many, I had the sense Rowan did love her, in whatever twisted, backward way he was capable of.But as I got to left wing in the mansion, I discovered that she wasn’t home. I then wandered through the halls as I made my way back to my part of the mansion. When I got
Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. 62. The One That Could Have Saved Me.
Angel. They called me in, the moment I walked through the doors. I barely had time to take off my jacket when Cyrus appeared in the hallway, his mouth set in that grim, unreadable line I had come to dread. “Interview room, Internal Affairs,” he said. “Now.” The words sank like lead. I didn’t need to ask which case needed me to be in the interview room. There was only one with enough heat to make me a suspect. The room was cold as I stepped in, and although the air conditioner was on, that was not the kind of cold I meant. No, this was more like stern faces looking on at me with quiet judgment as I took a seat. The fluorescent lights buzzed low above us, and a recorder sat like a ticking time bomb on the metal table. Karen Malloy was already seated, her file was open, and her pen was clipped neatly to the side. I didn’t like how calm she looked as she assessed me with dark eyes that almost made me squirm in my seat. Cyrus stood to her left, his arms folded as he leaned again
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