All Chapters of Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Angel. I came home barely holding myself together. After filing the report on Mendez’s case and pulling every thread I could on Max’s disappearance, my head felt like it had been pounded into pulp. Cyrus was going to want progress by tomorrow. And here I was, just staring at a laptop screen filled with more questions than answers. I told myself I'd revisit the report after a nap. Just a quick sleep to silence the migraine clawing at the base of my skull. But I slept heavily, my quick nap turning into several hours of sleep. A few hours later, I was jolted awake by a bang. A series of them, actually. I bolted upright, blinking in the dark, still half disoriented from my sleep. Then the second round of thuds came, only that they were heavier and louder this time. Someone was at my door, and they were pounding on it like the world was on fire. “Shit,” I muttered, stumbling to my feet. I grabbed the first thing I could find—a simple tee and my joggers—and tugged it over my

Angel. I’m a fucking fool. There was no way to sugarcoat it. No way to twist the logic that would make it make sense. I let him in again, even though I knew better. But the second his mouth wrapped around my dick, I gave in like some rookie drunk on his first taste of lust. And now, he’s gone again—nameless, faceless, and still out of reach. I should’ve cuffed him the second he said Little Falco but instead, I let him wreck me. I slammed my car door harder than necessary and crossed the street to Starbucks, because I couldn't stand the idea of another cup of that break room mud they called coffee. I needed something stronger, something to trick my brain into feeling awake even though my body was already running on empty. The barista gave me a smile but I didn't return it. I ordered black coffee, no sugar, no cream, and waited by the counter as if I was waiting for my sins to catch up to me. Well, news flash: they already have. By the time I walked into the Bureau a

Angel. This week has been a complete and utter disaster. It started with Dan's return, and that alone was enough to sour every cup of coffee and ruin every briefing I sat through. I’d thought I had at least a few more weeks of peace before he slithered back into the field. But no, just like a bad rash, he came back quicker than expected and with more venom than before. What confused me even more was that he didn’t only return, he was placed back on the case. My case. The one he had almost ruined and I had to salvage, and just when I was finally starting to make progress, he was back. Why? What kind of dirt did he have on Cyrus? Or worse, was I the one being played? Then came the next blow. Every single report I had been working on—lab requests, crime scene analysis, statements from witnesses—were gone, like they never existed. And not just the paper copies; the digital backups I’d saved to my private drive were wiped too. As if someone reached into my hard drive and

Angel I woke up with a terrible headache. It wasn’t from alcohol, God knows I didn’t drink enough last night to deserve this pounding in my skull. No. This was something else because guilt anchored itself deep in my gut. The images from the night before drifted into my mind in fractured flashes, the two women laughing, lips on my skin, tongue in my mouth, my hand in their hair. I hadn’t even gone through with sex. We made it as far as the alley, but once the first mouth was on me, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the mouth that haunted me. Try as I may, I couldn't stop thinking about him and so I stopped them before I came and walked away without a goodbye. And still, I felt like shit. I moved around my apartment like a ghost, half-dressed and barely functional. Every mirror I passed reflected a man who was exhausted and just passing through life like it was torture. Because it was. By the time I finally reached the front door to grab the paper, the doorbell ra

Castle. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space like the expensive paint on the wall was going to give me answers. There were none—no answers, no purpose, and no goddamn fire left in me today. I should’ve been at La Iglesia already. I should’ve called a meeting and demanded updates from the other leaders. I gave them a task—to root out the traitor who killed a federal judge. And I had no doubt that at least one of them was dragging their feet. But the truth was that I didn’t have it in me today. Not after watching Angel walk out of that bar with those women. Not after delivering that box of fingers and imagining the moment he opened it. I thought it would bring me peace but it didn’t. I thought it would scare him into submission, but all it did was drain me more. A knock on my bedroom door pulled me from my daze, making me groan. Why was Adriana disturbing me again? The woman just didn’t know how to take a hint, even when I offered it in simple but harsh wo