Todos los capítulos de Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. : Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

Adriana. I was just a woman in a mafia world, and that was as useless as being a slave. But there’s only so much a human being can take before turning on the hand that feeds them. ‘I am the daughter of Rowan Casablanca, and I refuse to live my life cast in another man’s shadow.’Saying it aloud used to sound like bravado. Now it tasted like the only truth I could cling to. I had grown up in suits and silences, taught to smile at men who decided my fate over brown leather desks and bad coffee. My father made deals like other men made promises, and I learned early that promises in our world were currency you could spend on someone else’s future. When he told me, one quiet night with his palm on my shoulder, that I was to marry Castle Lucchese as part of a covenant between houses, the girl in me—hungry, naive, and desperate to belong—had lit up like the sun.Castle was everything a wife in my position could want: handsome in that dangerous bad boy way, rich enough that his name alon

Castle. It had been weeks since Angel started staying with me. He hadn’t been caught or declared on the news as a wanted man, so that was a relief. The search for Adriana still went on. My man was searching every corner of the city, and still nothing. It ate at me, not because I wanted her back. God knows I never wanted her in the first place. But because I hated not knowing. I wasn't cold-hearted, not completely anyway. She was still Rowan’s daughter, still a woman I had sworn to marry, still someone who—by my father’s decree—was mine to claim, to keep, to bury if need be. Not knowing her fate left me raw. I spent too many nights staring at the ceiling while Angel slept beside me, asking myself if she was laughing under some foreign sun or rotting in a ditch. Neither answer gave me peace. So I threw myself into the business. Tomas and I ran the territories, and checked the docks. I left Angel behind in my room, and each time I turned the key I told myself it was for his

Castle. I didn’t even know what the word done meant anymore.When Angel spat it out in the car, it felt like a blade hurled into the dark targeted at me and I swear my heart stuttered. The wheel trembled under my hands, but I couldn’t let him see it. I couldn’t let him smell weakness on me—not after the day I’d had, not after everything he’d vomited into the air between us, not after the meeting that had nearly bled me dry.Because the truth was this: I had already been hanging by a thread long before Angel opened his mouth.The mafia leaders under me had made sure of it. That meeting… fuck. It was supposed to be a show of strength, a reminder that I was still the one holding the reins, but it had turned into a frenzy. And the leaders were like sharks in the ocean. They had smelled my blood in the water, and they were out for more. My father’s interruption at the last meeting had fractured something I had been building for years. When he stormed in, ranting about Angel, about my

Castle.I didn’t even make it to the car before I felt the pull in my chest. Like an invisible string was tied to that hotel suite upstairs, to the man sitting inside it, and it tugged and tugged until I thought I’d cave and run back in.The door wasn’t far. I could’ve turned around, gone back up, begged Angel until he forgave me and followed me back to the mansion.Because for the last two weeks and some days, he had been in my bed and I had started to rely on him being there without realizing it.And now I was supposed to sleep without him? The thought made my chest lock. But I forced myself forward. Because weakness wasn’t an option. Not for me. Not for a don.That’s what I told myself, anyway. But the real test was waiting in my living room.My father was sitting with his hands resting on his cane, his eyes pinned on me like a hawk that had been waiting all night for its prey to stumble in.“Sit down,” he ordered.And like a fool, I did. Because that was what years of conditionin

Angel.When I was finally done with Tomas, I sat there in the suite with silence buzzing so loud it almost hurt.I should’ve been satisfied. I’d held my ground. I hadn’t screamed, hadn’t clawed, hadn’t sunk to the petty depths Tomas wanted me to. No, I had been calm and controlled. I cut him open with words and left him to bleed quietly in the corner. Mature, I told myself. That was maturity.But now that the dust had settled, I kept turning it over in my head. The things I had said to him, the truth about how he had decided long ago that he wasn’t worthy. That was his curse, yes. But wasn’t it also mine?Because here I was, pursued out of my own life like a stray dog.No badge. No gun. No office. No home. The Bureau had shut me out, slammed the door, and painted me a fugitive. And for what? For a crime I hadn’t even had the imagination to commit.They said Dan had left a video — a neat little suicide note wrapped in a bow — saying I killed him.I almost laughed when I first heard it