ANGEL
He infuriated me ever since our first encounter.
I admired his looks and patience he had while holding me hostage. But as the months followed up, our hate towards one another bloomed.
So much, that the ashes inside of me bloomed as well.
LUK...
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Some say the process of death is peaceful, like a blow of relief into us as we end our life, our journey on earth.
I'm not so sure about that.
My head throbs everywhere, my body is sore and I'm disoriented. I flinch when opening my eyes, being met with massive clarity.
Everything I don't need.
My ears seem to wake up and first thing I hear is an unpleasant beep.
A beep... like the hospital machines.
No.
Moving my eyes around I see white walls, with no window, and a figure with brow hair and a white coat.
Where am I?
Trying to look down at my figure I see a mask of oxigen and quietly take it off along with the wires connected to my arm. Seeing that I still have my clothes on, I grab the knife of my thigh and get up, ignoring the dizziness, putting the blade around the man throat.
He freezes.
"Where am I?" I crock out, my throat feeling burned, my voice nothing like me. "In a clinical room."
"Who are you?"
"A doctor. Please keep calm."
"Where am I?"I growl, because in a clinical room I could figure on my own.
"Moretti mansion."
Fuck. I was going to kill him he has something planned for me.
"What did you do to me?"
"Took care of your wounds." His voice continues calm, and his hands are held up in the air showing he's harmless.
I don't trust no one.
"What more? You think I'm stupid?"
Moretti knew it was me, and knew my job. If it wasn't for my fucking hesitation and the bomb, it would be done by now and I could be on a flight to the Maldives.
"Just that, I swear."
"And the shit on my arms?"
"Serum."
Suddenly I feel something colder against my temple, a gun.
"Drop the knife." A british voice growls, making me smirk slightly.
This just got better.
"Am I in hell already?"
"Drop it." The pussy guy growls again, I don't make any move.
"You both drop. Now." I hear a deep growl coming from the door.
Moretti.
Do men in this house only know how to growl, though?
