Page 13 of His Angel

The glass is cold against my forehead, a sharp contrast to the heat still radiating from my skin, but it’s not enough to cool the chaos churning inside me.

My breath fogs the window in uneven bursts, each one a shaky reminder of how I just let him—let him—tear me apart and piece me back together with his cock, his hands, his filthy promises.

His cum’s still dripping down my thighs, sticky and warm, mingling with my own slickness, and every shift of my hips sends a fresh ache pulsing through me—proof of how deep he went, how hard I broke.

I can’t move, can’t peel myself from this spot where Isaia has me pinned, where I screamed for him like Anthony’s blood wasn’t still wet in my memory. The memory of a friend who had always been there for me, a friend who made me feel less alone in this world.

My palms press harder against the glass, fingers trembling, and a sob catches in my throat—half grief, half disgust, all twisted up in the sick heat that won’t leave my veins.

What kind of person lets a killer fuck her senseless while her friend’s body’s barely cold?

What kind of personcomesfor a monster, shatters under him, knowing what he’s done?

“I missed you, baby girl.” Isaia’s voice cuts through the haze, pulling me back like a leash I can’t snap. He’s still behind me, too close, his breath grazing my neck, and I feel the weight of him—his chest, his hands, that unrelenting presence that fills every corner of this room. Of me.

“So fucking much.”

“Don’t.” My voice cracks as I try to shove the guilt back down, try to bury it under the anger that’s clawing its way up. “Just…don’t.”

But he doesn’t listen. He never does.

“Every second without you was hell.” His hand slides up my spine, fingers tracing the curve of my back like he’s mapping something he already owns. It’s possessive, tender in a way that makes my stomach lurch, and I hate how my skin prickles under his touch, how my body still hums for him even now.

There’s a lump in my throat, a hole in my heart left by Anthony’s death, and it’s crippling. Guilt floods me while Isaia grips my hip, pulling me back against him, and I feel that he’s hard again, pressing into my ass, ready to take more when I’ve got nothing left to give.

“Everly? Baby?”

“Please stop,” I whimper, twisting to shove him off, but my legs are jelly, and as I turn to face him, he catches my wrists, pinning them against the glass above my head.

“You don’t get to shut me out, you hear me? Not after you screamed for me, came all over me like you fuckingmeantit.”

Tears sting my eyes. It’s hot, bitter, and I wrench my face away. “You killed him,” I whisper, like saying it softly won’t hurt as much.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

My gaze cuts to his. “Anthony was a good man.”

“There’s no such thing, baby girl.”

“Go to hell.” I try to jerk free, but he only tightens his fingers around my wrists, leaning in close, his forehead pressed against mine.

“I warned him.” One hand slides down my arm, my collarbone, settling at the base of my neck. “I told him to stay away from you, but he didn’t fucking listen.”

“You don’t get it,” I say, tears spilling now, streaking down my cheeks. “I loved him.” Isaia hisses at that, fingers tightening around my throat just for a second.

“If he wasn’t dead, he’d be now.”

“Goddammit, Isaia. Not like I love you. What I feel…what Ifeltfor him doesn’t come close to what I feel for you. But he was my friend. He protected me when Michele—” I choke on the name, the memory of that bastard’s threats tightening my throat. “And I betrayed him,” I continue. “Lied to him. Every decision after that, my every action led to the moment you killed him. What does that make me?”

With a gentle slide of his fingers up my throat, he cups my cheek, his thumb swiping at my tears. And his eyes? They’re wild, unrelenting storms boring into me like he can see every fractured piece.

“It makes you mine. It makes you the woman I’d burn the world for, the one I’d kill for, die for. Anthony was collateral, baby girl. He got in the way. That’s on him, not you.”

“That’s bullshit,” I snap, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, just presses closer, his body a wall I can’t escape. “You don’t get to absolve me because you’re obsessed. I made choices, Isaia. I lied to him, told him I’d marry him, played along while Michele held my mom’s life over my head. I could’ve fought harder. I could have trusted Anthony and told him the truth about Michele’s blackmail, but I was too fucking scared to. Too scared he’d keep his promise of not marrying me against my will. I could have?—”

“Stop, Everly.”

“Iconvincedhim…by lying.” My teeth clench as tears stream down my face. “I convinced him to marry me by telling him that I needed protection fromyou. It was the only way, Isaia. It was the only way he’d believe me. I had to make him believe me, or Michele would have killed my mother. I had to make you the villain. I had to use his hate for you to?—”

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