All Chapters of Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Angel. The second I stepped out of the diner, I didn’t run, because running would raise suspicion and suspicion would get me dead. Instead, I walked casually. My hand patted the side of my pants just once, and when my fingers brushed against the cold weight of my sidearm tucked into its holster, I exhaled in relief. I kept walking unhurriedly and the guy in the hoodie wasn’t in a rush either, it seemed. He turned the corner ahead and I followed, closing the distance between us slowly enough not to catch his eye. The corner he turned led into an alley which looked like it belonged in a horror movie. There was cracked concrete everywhere, with dumpsters overflowing, and the faint smell of piss and something burnt lingering in the air. Two homeless guys passed a joint in the far corner, their eyes hollow and unseeing. A third one lay asleep against a rusted pipe, oblivious to his surroundings. The man in the hoodie slowed, then he stopped to speak to another guy who was

Angel. The first thing I noticed when I came to, was the smell of soup. It was faint but smelled savory. Then the pain hit me, starting as a dull throb that bloomed across my shoulder and clawed down my chest, and it dragged me back to reality. A low groan escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I instinctively shot a hand up to clutch the source of the ache, but my fingers hit bandages. Bandages? My eyes flew open, and I looked down at myself. There was a clean wrap of gauze stretched across my bare chest, crossing over my shoulder, indicating that whoever had done it knew what they were doing. And that terrified me. My heart started pounding as my gaze darted around the room. The blinds were drawn, and golden evening sunlight filtered in softly, but the room was empty. I pushed myself upright, wincing as my shoulder flared up in protest and that’s when I saw it. On the center table, next to my gun, sat a bowl of soup. It wasn't steaming hot, but when I pulled th

Angel. After leaving Cyrus’ office, I made my way back to mine with my legs feeling heavy like lead. I dropped into my chair and tried to focus on the paperwork in front of me. Tried being the key word here, because I couldn't see anything as the words blurred together almost immediately. Apart from that, my body was screaming for rest. My eyes were heavy with sleep, and my shoulder was throbbing under the tightly wound bandages. I cursed quietly under my breath when I realized I had forgotten to stop at Starbucks. My body needs enough caffeine to survive the next few hours, and now my only option was the Bureau coffee. Sighing, I forced myself upright and dragged my body into the break room. The stale scent of burnt coffee grounds hit me the second I walked in and I grimaced. God, I hated Bureau coffee. It tasted like it was brewed through a fucking ashtray. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures so I hurriedly threw together a pot, while ignoring the chat

Angel. The act of him coaxing me to eat, and then feeding me shouldn’t have been erotic. But fuck, it was. Desire built slowly in my veins as I leaned forward and sucked his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the pad as I sucked greedily. I saw how his whole body stiffened, in surprise maybe, and his chest rose sharply. I was tired of fighting, if I'm being honest. I was tired of pretending that I didn’t want this. At this point in my life, it seemed like there was absolutely no one left in my corner, except him. And since he wanted to stake a claim over me, maybe it was time I stop fighting it and just let him. He finally pulled his hand away, but not before a shudder racked his body and I licked my lips slowly, watching him lose composure little by little. His pupils were blown wide with desire, and he was breathing hard, like I had knocked the air out of his lungs. He picked up the fork again, trying to feed me, but I shook my head and said, “I’m full.”

Angel Desk duty was hell. No, scratch that. Hell would’ve been more exciting than this slow, agonizing death by paperwork and side-eye. The Bureau didn’t feel like the Bureau anymore. It felt like a zoo, and I was the newest exhibit—The Fallen Golden Boy. Agents passed my office door pretending they needed to be somewhere but all of them threw the same glances through the glass, ranging from curious to pitiful, and then, judgmental. By noon, I’d had enough. I walked over to the door and slammed it shut with more force than was necessary. A few heads snapped up outside, but I didn’t care. At least Dan wasn’t around. He had been reassigned temporarily, partnering with another agent on the field. Thank fuck for that. If I had to share oxygen with him right now, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t put a bullet through his knee. Oh shit, my firearm has been seized. Forgot about that for a second. The Mendez case—the one I had literally taken a bullet for—had been ripped away from