The hospital's fluorescent lights were too bright, too clean, too silent.
Jessel sat alone in the waiting area, her hands trembling on her lap, her shirt still stained with Thalassa's blood. The echo of the threatening call rang in her mind, but she shoved it down—now wasn't the time to think about herself.
Thalassa was somewhere behind those double doors, unconscious, bleeding… because Jessel had failed.
A soft scuff against the polished floor pulled her attention up.
A man stood there, watching her.
Tall. Sharp features. A jawline that looked like it had been carved from the same stone as Castiel's.
Same eyes. Same cold stillness.
For a moment Jessel forgot to breathe.
He stepped closer, hands tucked into the pockets of a dark coat.
"Who are you?"
Jessel stiffened.
"I—uh… I'm Mira." The lie slipped out too quickly.
One of his brows lifted, amused. "Mira."
He didn't believe her. Not even for a second.
He offered his hand. "Daniel."
Her heart dropped.
Daniel.
Castiel's brother.
He sat beside her, posture controlled, composed, completely unreadable.
"How did Thalassa end up here?" His voice carried no softness—just demand.
Jessel swallowed hard.
"She—she was unconscious on her bedroom floor. Head bleeding. There was no one around. I don't know who did it."
She kept her tone steady. Omitted the call. She wasn't ready for that storm yet.
Daniel's jaw worked for a brief second, something dangerous flicking through his eyes.
"She was alone?"
"Yes."
"And you found her?"
"Yes."
He exhaled slowly, as if trying to hold down a rising fury.
Before he could speak again, the hospital doors burst open.
Castiel.
Soaked from the rain, breath sharp, eyes burning.
The moment he saw Jessel, his expression shifted—like a fuse had been lit inside him.
He strode toward her.
"Castiel—" Daniel started, but Castiel didn't hear him. Or didn't care.
He grabbed Jessel by the throat and slammed her back against the waiting-room wall.
She gasped, vision blurring.
His fingers tightened.
"I told you," Castiel hissed, his breath hot with fury. "I told you to keep her safe."
Jessel clawed at his wrist, choking.
"I—I tried—"
"Not enough." His grip tightened. "And now she's in a fucking hospital bed!"
"Castiel," Daniel said sharply, stepping between them, prying his brother's hand off her neck.
"Enough."
Castiel hesitated, chest heaving. His eyes stayed locked on Jessel like she was the only thing he wanted to destroy.
Slowly—too slowly—he stepped back.
Jessel coughed, clutching her throat.
Her eyes watered, but she refused to look away from him.
If he wanted to scare her, he'd have to try harder.
Castiel's voice dropped to ice.
"Find Lucas."
Her breath caught. "What?"
"You heard me." He leaned in, his lips near her ear. "Find his location… or I won't need someone else to finish what was started tonight."
A cold shiver ran through her.
But she nodded.
Because she had no choice.
---
Four hours later
Her fingers shook as she held the printed address in her hand—the warehouse location.
It had taken everything. Every contact. Every trick. Every ounce of desperation.
She walked up to Castiel outside the hospital where he stood with Adrian and Daniel, giving orders.
"I found him," she said.
Castiel turned.
The silence that followed was heavy.
She handed him the address.
His eyes flicked over it once.
Then he looked at her.
"You're coming with us."
Her heart dropped.
"What? No. This isn't—this isn't my job. I don't go on missions."
Castiel stepped closer.
His voice lowered, dark and quiet.
"This is your punishment."
Her breath hitched.
Daniel gave her a look—something between warning and pity.
But no one argued against Castiel.
No one ever did.
---
The warehouse
Cold air. The smell of rust. Footsteps crunching on gravel.
Shadows moved inside the broken windows.
Lucas Denatalli had gathered a small army.
The gunfire started the moment they stepped in.
Adrian moved like a phantom—silent, brutal.
Daniel fought with precision, each strike lethal.
Castiel—rage incarnate, his movements fueled by something feral.
Jessel kept low behind crates, heart pounding so hard she felt it in her teeth.
Three shots cracked the air toward her.
One grazed her arm.
She gasped—a burning slice across her skin.
Castiel turned instantly.
"Jessel!"
He grabbed her arm, dragging her behind a wall.
Blood seeped through her sleeve.
"Stupid girl," he muttered, ripping fabric open. "You should've stayed down."
"I told you," she snapped through gritted teeth, "I'm not made for this."
"And yet here you are."
He pressed a cloth to her wound, his hand firm around her arm.
Their faces were too close.
His warmth too real.
For a moment—even in the chaos—time stilled between them.
His fingers brushed her cheek accidentally.
Or maybe not.
She didn't move.
He didn't either.
Then—
Bootsteps approached.
Daniel appeared, dragging a bruised, beaten Lucas.
The moment shattered like glass.
Castiel stood, his expression hardening back into steel.
Lucas spat blood onto the dirt.
"You think I did this?" he rasped. "I'm not the mastermind, Castiel. I'm not stupid enough to touch your sister."
Castiel's eyes narrowed.
"Then who?"
Lucas laughed weakly.
"Ask her."
His chin jerked toward Jessel.
"She's hiding something."
Castiel stiffened.
Then he turned.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
Towards Jessel.
"What is he talking about?"
"I—nothing—" she began.
He grabbed her by the neck again, slamming her back against the car this time.
"Castiel—" Daniel warned, but Castiel ignored him.
"Tell me," he growled, fingers tightening, "what are you hiding?"
Jessel clawed at his wrist, choking.
"The call—" she gasped.
Castiel froze.
"What call?"
"A… a man called me. On the way to the hospital. Told me to back off. Or I'd die."
Castiel released her instantly—only because he needed her breathing to answer him.
"What number?" he demanded.
"I don't know, it was wrong—"
Her phone buzzed.
All of them turned.
A wrong number flashed again.
Castiel snatched the phone and answered.
Before he could speak, a calm voice slid through the speaker.
"Castiel."
Jessel felt the blood drain from her face.
The voice continued, cold and amused.
"Your game is over, Castiel."
The line went dead.
For a heartbeat, no one moved—not Lucas, not Daniel, not even Jessel, who felt her stomach drop so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of her.
Then the sound hit them.
Sirens.
Faint at first… then growing louder. Closer. Surrounding.
Castiel's jaw clenched as he stared at the darkened screen of her phone, his grip tightening around it until the plastic creaked. Daniel quickly turned toward the warehouse doors, tension crackling off him.
Jessel's pulse skyrocketed.
This wasn't just police.
This felt… coordinated. Planned.
Like someone knew exactly where they were.
Castiel slowly lifted his eyes to Jessel—ice-cold, sharp, unreadable.
"What did you get us into?" he whispered.
To be continue.