Chapter Seven

Angel

Salvatore's eyes burned into mine with a chilling intensity, his hand steady on the gun that was pointed directly at me. Time seemed to slow, every second a heavy beat in my chest as I stood between him and the innocent lives cowering behind me. The air in the room felt thick, almost suffocating.

Liliana and Marco trembled as their small hands clutched the fabric of my dress. I could feel their fear, their helplessness. But I couldn't let that fear paralyze me. These children needed me, and there was no time to hesitate. They were the reason I had stayed, the reason I would fight.

Stepping forward, I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to stay calm even though every muscle in my body screamed to act. "You'll have to go through me to get to them," I said, my voice steady.

Sal's lips twisted into a cold, calculating smile. "You're willing to die for them?" His words dripped with disbelief, as if the very idea of sacrifice was foreign to him. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "Why would you do that? Why sacrifice yourself for children who aren't even yours?"

His question pierced the silence, but I already knew the answer. The words came easily, filled with the truth that had settled deep within my heart. "Because I love them," I said softly. "I'd give everything to protect them."

Sal's eyes flashed, a flicker of something dark and twisted in his gaze. His smirk widened, and the grip on his gun tightened. "Love?" he sneered. "Love makes people weak. And weakness is what gets people killed."

He lifted the gun higher, aiming it directly at my forehead now, his intent clear. "Like you, for example," he said coldly, his finger tightening on the trigger.

I braced myself for the shot, my heart pounding in my chest, every muscle in my body taut with anticipation. But before Sal could pull the trigger, Drago's voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Stop."

Sal hesitated, flicking his eyes toward Drago who was standing there, his face calm but his eyes burning with an intensity I hadn't seen before. Slowly, he stepped forward, his expression hard, yet there was something deeper beneath the surface I couldn't quite place, and it took my breath away.

"If you're going to kill someone, kill me," he continued, his voice steady. His hand dropped to his side, and I watched in disbelief as he lowered his gun, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. "But leave her and the children out of this."

Sal's brow furrowed in confusion, his gun still aimed at me but his focus now on Drago. "What the hell are you doing?" Sal demanded, his voice rough. "You'd give your life for some whore? For these children who would only betray you in the end?"

Drago's eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable. His jaw tightened, and he nodded. "I would," he said simply.

Sal took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as if trying to understand what was happening. "You're fucking kidding me. You think sacrificing yourself makes you noble?" he spat. "Makes you stronger? You've always been weak, Drago. A disappointment." His face twisted with disgust. "But I'll take your life if that's what you want. I'll take your soul, too. I don't give a fuck that we share the same blood. I'll have what's mine."

The air in the room grew colder, the shadows deepening as Sal's voice dropped lower, almost guttural. His body began to change, a dark energy swirling around him as his skin twisted, darkened. His once-human form peeled away, revealing something monstrous underneath—curling like smoke and fire, causing shivers to run up and down my spine. His voice became more demonic, his very presence radiating power and malevolence. "I'll reap your soul," he snarled, "and nothing will save you."

Drago stood tall, not flinching even as Sal's demonic form loomed before him. He didn't reach for his gun; he didn't move. He simply stared into the face of the monster before him, his expression resolute.

It was then that I felt it.

The light inside me—my angelic fire—began to stir. It was something I had always felt simmering from somewhere within me, but never truly released. But now, faced with the darkness that threatened to consume everything I loved, I couldn't hold it back any longer.

I took a step forward, feeling the warmth of the light pulse through me, filling me with a strength I had never known. My body began to glow, a soft but growing light enveloping me as the power surged from within. Wings—brilliant, golden wings—unfurled from my back, and my feet lifted slightly off the ground as the full force of my angelic nature came to life.

Sal stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the sight of me. His demon flickered, momentarily weakened by the power of my light. "What…what are you?" he stammered, his voice trembling for the first time. "You…you're a witch!"

I shook my head, feeling the power course through me like a river of light. "No, Sal," I said softly, my voice steady. "I'm not a witch. I'm an angel."

Sal's eyes widened further, disbelief etched across his features. He took another step back, as the reality of what he was facing began to sink in. His dark posture faltered, and for the first time, I saw fear flicker across his face.

"I am an angel of justice," I continued, my voice firm but filled with compassion, "but I am one of mercy most of all."

I watched as his knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, his head bowed before me. His once-powerful form seemed to shrink beneath the weight of my presence, his demonic energy retreating in the face of my light. The gun slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly to the floor.

For a long moment, the room was silent, the air heavy with the aftermath of what had just transpired. I hovered above him, my wings casting long shadows across the walls, my light dimming slightly as the immediate danger passed. I could have ended it then. I could have destroyed him—ended the threat once and for all. But I didn't.

I couldn't.

I stepped back, the light around me receding as my feet touched the ground once more. My wings folded neatly behind me, dimming into a soft but still present glow. I looked down at Sal, now just an old man crumpled on the floor, and felt a pang of sorrow for the darkness that had consumed him.

"Take them out of here," I said quietly, turning my attention to Reaper, who had entered the room just in time to witness what had happened. Stepping forward quickly, he took the children's hands.

Liliana and Marco were trembling, their small faces pale with fear, but they clung to him as he led them out of the room. I watched them go, my heart heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened.

As the door closed behind them, I let out a shaky breath, my body trembling from the energy it had taken to confront Sal. But before I could fully process what had just transpired, a deafening crack echoed through the room.

A gunshot.

I turned, my heart lurching in my chest, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw Drago standing there, the gun in his hand still smoking. Sal lay crumpled on the floor at his feet, a dark pool of blood spreading around him.

Drago looked up at me, his eyes burning with a fire that hadn't yet dimmed. His demonic form flickered and faded, his human self struggling to reassert control. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his entire body shaking with the force of what he had just done.

Tears filled his eyes, streaming down his cheeks as he stared at me. "I'm not like you," he whispered, his voice broken. "I am not an angel. I am not even a good man."

My heart ached at the sight of him, the pain etched across his features so raw, so deep. I wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him that he wasn't beyond saving. But before I could move, he spoke again.

"But I will show you mercy," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "For what you've done. For what you were willing to sacrifice for the sake of what was mine. And for that…you're free."

I blinked, my mind struggling to process what he was saying. "Free?" I asked, hearing the tremor in my own voice,

He nodded, dashing the tears from his face roughly with the back of his hand. "Go home," he said, his voice cracking. "I'll give you whatever you need. Money, a house, safety for your mother. But you don't have to stay here anymore. I release you from all of this. You'll never want for anything again."

The weight of his words hit me like a tidal wave, washing over and pulling me under. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. He was setting me free—giving me a way out of the life that had bound me to him. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. He was pushing me away—trying to protect me, to give me the life he thought I deserved. But my chest tightened, my throat closing as the realization hit me.

I loved him.

The tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them, and without thinking, I crossed the space between us and kissed him. It was a desperate, aching kiss, filled with everything I couldn't say. Everything I felt but couldn't express. His hands gripped my arms, and for a moment, I thought he would pull me closer, that he wouldn't let me go.

But then he stepped back, my heart shattering as I looked into his eyes one last time.

Without another word, I turned and ran.

I didn't know if I was running home. I didn't know where I was going at all. All I knew was that I had to leave before I changed my mind.