Angel's POV
The soft morning light peeked through the blinds, painting pale streaks across the room. I blinked slowly, brain still foggy from sleep, until I realized I wasn't alone. Yeah, we had slept off while talking in bed yesterday
Samuel's arm was slung around my waist like it belonged there.
And maybe it did.
His chest rose and fell behind me in a steady rhythm, his warmth wrapping around me like a second blanket. His breath ghosted along the back of my neck, soft and unhurried. And his hand—God—was resting just a little too low to be innocent.
I tried to shift, maybe ease the tension in my chest, but his grip tightened. "Mm-mm" he hummed, still half-asleep. "Stay."
"I wasn't going anywhere" I whispered, not trusting the shakiness in my voice.
He nuzzled into my shoulder, and I felt his lips curl into a sleepy smile against my skin. "Good. 'Cause I'm not done holding you."
I swallowed hard.
We hadn't done anything last night. Just… slept. Cuddled. Talked until our words ran dry and sleep took us under.
But right now?
There was a different kind of silence filling the room.
Thick. Tense. Expectant.
His fingers started to move—slow, barely-there strokes along my waist, like he was testing the water. Like he was waiting for me to flinch or tell him to stop.
I didn't.
Instead, I turned in his arms, slowly, until we were face to face.
He looked at me like I was something fragile. Like he didn't want to break whatever spell had wrapped around us.
"Angel," he breathed, his voice low, rough.
I reached up and touched his face, brushing my thumb along the edge of his jaw. "You keep looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're afraid I'll disappear."
He exhaled a laugh, then kissed my forehead. "Maybe I am."
I leaned in, heart beating faster now. "Then do something about it."
That was all the encouragement he needed.
In one fluid movement, he rolled me onto my back and kissed me like I was the only air he needed. His hands were everywhere—possessive, reverent. One gripped my thigh, hitching it around his waist, the other tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer to him.
And this time, it wasn't hesitant. It wasn't cautious.
It was fire.
I melted into it, into him, as his hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. My fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth moved over mine—urgent, desperate, like he'd been waiting forever and was finally allowed to want me out loud.
His body pressed me gently down into the mattress, and I didn't stop him.
Because this—whatever it was between us—was no longer something I could run from. And God I didn't even want to run
His hands explored like they were memorizing me. Like he'd studied the map and finally decided to get lost on purpose.
Clothes were discarded, slowly, carefully—like we both knew this moment mattered. Like we wanted to savor every breath, every gasp, every look that said I see you. I still want you.
It wasn't perfect. Our hearts were too loud, our movements a little shaky. But it was real. Intimate. Soft and sinful all at once.
He kissed down my neck, pausing at my collarbone like it was sacred.
"You're sure?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
I nodded. "Yes."
Then the space between us disappeared.
And everything else did too.
---
The air still smelled like skin and sweat and something sweeter—something raw and vulnerable that lingered long after our breaths had steadied.
We lay tangled in silence, our bodies cooling but our hearts doing the opposite.
Samuel stroked my arm slowly. "I… I didn't expect this."
"You didn't want it?"
"I didn't say that," he said, smirking sleepily. "I just didn't expect you to want it. Not yet."
I stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, well… I didn't plan it."
"But?"
"But I don't regret it," I said, voice quiet.
His arm curled around me tighter, pulling me close. "Good."
A beat of silence passed.
"You've got that look," he murmured.
I turned my head to him. "What look?"
"The one that says you're about to ruin my day."
I chewed my lip, hesitating for half a second. "I'm meeting Roman today."
And there it was. The soft haze in his eyes dimmed a little, replaced by something harder. Possessive. Maybe even a little insecure.
His arm pulled me in tighter. "Why?"
"He asked for it. Said it was important."
"Sure," he muttered, pressing kisses along my back like he was marking territory. "You just sleep with me and then casually announce you're off to see another man. That's not scandalous at all."
I turned to face him, raising a brow. "You're jealous. I don't see any reason for you to be jealous actually, he has someone already "
He raised his hands like a preacher at the pulpit. "I'm possessive, not jealous. There's a difference."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. Jealousy is irrational." He cupped my jaw and tilted my head gently. "But you? You're mine. So my reaction's very rational."
I rolled my eyes, but heat flushed up my chest. "Samuel…"
He sighed, resting his forehead against mine. "Just be careful, okay?"
"I will."
He stared at me, conflicted. " I just hate that he gets to meet you anytime with a single word"
"He doesn't," I said firmly. "You're the only one who gets to do that."
He kissed me again, slow and possessive. Like he needed to reassure himself I was still his. "Be careful."
"Always"
We shared breakfast—awkward smiles, lingering touches, and a level of comfort that shouldn't exist after just one night like that. It was dangerous how quickly he felt like home again.
But I couldn't afford to forget why I came back.
When Samuel left for work, he kissed me like he wasn't sure if this was all real. Like he didn't want to wake up if it wasn't.
And once the door shut behind him, I was left with nothing but the echo of my own guilt—and the memory of Roman's text, staring at me like a ticking bomb.
---
Mid-afternoon
The Doughnut Place
I arrived before Roman. It wasn't a conscious decision, I was too anxious to stay home and wait.
He arrived five minutes later. Leather jacket. Glasses. That same tension wrapped around him like smoke.
He sat across from me without a word, being extremely formal and I knew something was up.
"I ordered you a Boston cream," I said, pretending the air wasn't tightening.
"I hate Boston cream."
"No, you don't."
He smirked. "You're right. But I hate that you know that."
"That's not my fault, I had to adapt to your preferences" I tilted my head. "Why did you want to meet?"
He tapped the table once, twice. "Wanted to ask you something before things get…messy."
I folded my arms. "Go ahead."
"Do you want out?"
I blinked. "What?"
He leaned forward, voice lower. "This life. The deals. The blood. The chain you keep pretending isn't around your ankle. Do you want out, Angel?"
The silence between us screamed.
I looked away, eyes fixed on the condensation sliding down my water glass.
"…Yes."
Roman let out a long breath like he'd known it. Like he'd just been waiting for me to say it.
"Then you know it's not that simple."
"I figured."
"There are procedures. Rules. People who don't just let go of someone like you, no matter the reason." He paused. "They'll make you work for it."
"I'm not scared."
"No," he said, eyes unreadable. "But you should be. Could get messy"
I kept quiet as a waitress passed by.
I stared at the half-eaten doughnut on my plate, appetite gone.
"What happens next?" I asked quietly.
"I'll set up another meeting. Higher-ups need to hear it from you directly." He paused. "But they'll test you first."
"Test?"
He shrugged. "To see if you're really out. Or just bluffing."
I clenched my jaw. "Let them test me."
Roman watched me like someone who knew what fire felt like and hated seeing someone else get burned.
"You really think Samuel's worth this?"
I met his gaze, firm. "I didn't do this for him."
He blinked.
"I'm doing it for me," I added, pushing the plate aside. "Because I'm tired of bleeding for people who wouldn't flinch if I disappeared. I'm tired of sleeping with one eye open and always looking over my shoulder afraid I'm gonna get ambushed"
He nodded once. "Alright then. You'll hear from me soon."
"Good."
As I stood, Roman's voice stopped me.
"For what it's worth… I think you're making the right call. I have always wanted to leave but I can't cause of Daniel"
I didn't reply but I knew he always wanted to do that.
Then I walked out decisively cause for once, I was already sure of it.
---