The Sinner's Angel

Author's POV

A sharp, loud knock echoed against the car window, cutting through the fragile silence.

Angel flinched, her body jerking in Alessio's arms as if the sound itself had struck her.

Alessio's eyes turned cold as he turned towards the window, his gaze meeting Lucas.

Lucas stood there—motionless.

His eyes were empty.

A hollow void of guilt, regret, and something much darker.

Angel turned, curious about who it was—

And then she saw him.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Color drained from her already pale face, her lips parted in an attempt to speak, but nothing came out.

Her body tensed, and Alessio felt her fingers digging into his shirt as if she was holding onto him for dear life.

"Luc-Luci...fer, h-he—" she tried, but her voice was too weak, too broken.

She struggled to form words, but her mind was slipping, spiraling into fear.

"Angel, breathe," Alessio said firmly, his tone gentle yet commanding.

Her glassy eyes flickered toward him, as if trying to hold onto reality.

"I'm here," he whispered, cupping her face, forcing her to look at him and not at the shadow standing outside.

"He won't do anything to you."

But she wasn't listening.

Her body was trembling violently, her chest rising and falling too fast.

"But—he cut—he shouted—" she choked, but her words fell apart.

She was struggling.

Drowning.

Her small frame shook like a fragile leaf in a storm.

Alessio clenched his jaw and pulled her into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, hiding her from the world, from Lucas, from the nightmares.

"I know, my precious," he murmured.

His heart ached as he felt her warm tears soaking through his shirt, but she didn't speak.

Didn't protest.

Didn't fight back.

She just sobbed.

Small, helpless, broken sobs that shattered him piece by piece.

Lucas, standing outside, felt himself suffocating.

His throat burned.

His hands clenched.

He knew.

He knew this was because of him.

She was like this—so small, so fragile, so broken—because of him.

Because he had been a monster.

Because he hadn't believed her.

Because he had let himself drown in hatred instead of seeing the innocent truth in her terrified eyes.

She was terrified of him.

And the worst part?

He deserved it.

He had just come to warn Alessio that they were being followed—his phone had been off, so Lucas had to come in person.

But now…

Seeing her like this…

Seeing her shrink into Alessio's chest as if it was her only safe place in this world…

It made him feel sick.

How could he have done this?

How could he have turned her into this?

His hands trembled as he lowered his gaze, unable to bear the sight of her falling apart.

Time passed.

Her breathing evened out.

Her trembling slowed.

Her exhausted body, drained from too much fear, too much pain, too many emotions—

Gave in to sleep.

Alessio glanced down at her tear-streaked face, gently adjusting her in his arms, holding her closer before finally rolling down the window.

His eyes darkened.

His voice, low and venomous, dripped with restrained rage.

"What are you here for now?"

Lucas swallowed, his gaze still on the ground.

"Your car was being followed, Lucifer," he murmured. "Your phone was off, so I had to come in person."

A heavy silence filled the air.

Alessio's grip on Angel tightened.

Then, his voice dropped into something cold, sharp, lethal.

"Fine. Now go."

Lucas's breath hitched.

Alessio's next words were quieter, but they cut deeper than any blade.

"She already had two panic attacks today."

Lucas froze.

Panic attacks.

His chest constricted.

She had—she had panic attacks. Because of him.

"If she wakes up and sees you, it'll be worse."

Alessio didn't yell.

Didn't lash out.

He didn't need to.

His words alone carried enough hatred.

Lucas felt a sharp, unbearable sting in his chest.

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palm.

He had no right to speak.

No right to defend himself.

No right to even stand here.

So, without a word, he bowed his head.

And left.

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