Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

Castle.The walk back to my wing felt longer than usual. By the time I pushed open the double doors to my living room, the silence hit me like a hammer.I sank into the leather chair, elbows braced on my knees, staring at nothing. My brain wouldn’t stop replaying it—the name flashing on Angel’s phone, the ridiculous little hearts after it. Who the fuck does that? Who puts three love emojis after some random man’s name? Was it a joke? A secret code? A breadcrumb to something I wasn’t supposed to find?I could still see Angel’s face when I saw it. The panic. The way his mouth opened like he wanted to explain. And maybe—maybe I should have let him. Maybe if I’d given him two seconds to talk, I wouldn’t be here, spiraling like a fucking idiot, imagining scenarios that made me want to punch a hole through the wall.Instead, I stormed out. That was on me. But right now? I couldn’t handle listening to excuses. Because every possibility my brain threw at me about those emojis—every single o

Angel.The alcohol still burned on my tongue when Daisy leaned across the table, her eyes sparkling like she had secrets that I didn't know about. She tapped her glass against mine and smirked.“So,” she said, dragging out the word like it was a tease. “Do you want to hit up the club after this?”Her words hit me harder than the alcohol. As soon as she said those words—the club—my mind didn’t go to neon lights or loud and pulsing music. No. My brain, traitorous as always, shoved me back into the memory of the fire at Castle’s club, Ecstasy. I remembered seeing it swallowed by flames that danced like devils. I remembered the smoke curling into the night, the sirens, and Castle's face when he received the call that the empire he had built was turned to ash.And with that, I remembered him. His voice cracked when he saw the name on my phone earlier. His footsteps pounding out of my house. The door slammed. The roar of his engine cutting through the silence.I had come out tonight to f

Angel.My thumb hovered over Castle’s name for a heartbeat too long before I scrolled down and tapped Cyrus instead. Castle could wait. Cyrus never called unless it was serious.He picked up on the first ring.“I know you’re on leave,” Cyrus said without preamble, “but I need you to report to the Bureau today. The earlier the better.”My heart lurched painfully, hammering against my throat.“Is something wrong?” I asked, voice tighter than I meant it to be.“You’ll know when you get here.” He ended the call.The line went dead, but the echo of his words didn’t. My pulse refused to settle as I set the phone down on the nightstand. I pressed the heel of my hand against my sternum, willing it to slow down, before dragging myself into the bathroom.The shower was quick, brisk, just enough to rinse away the sweat that clung to my skin from a restless night. My mind wasn’t in the present; it was already at the Bureau, circling through possibilities, each one worse than the last.When I step

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

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