𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃)

Chapter 61: Even the Devil Was an Angel

The door to the dungeons groaned open.

Cold air hit me first—wet stone, iron, and the faint metallic smell of blood.

I had told myself I was ready. I was stronger now, armed with determination, and a heart hardened by betrayal.

It's just a prison, I had whispered to myself, taking a steadying breath before stepping over the threshold.

I believed my own lie.

But the moment I stepped inside, that carefully built armor shattered.

My steps faltered. The confidence drained from my body so fast it left me lightheaded.

The corridor was the same. The torches were in the same places. The sound of water dripping somewhere far down the hall was the same.

It hit me all at once, like being shoved underwater.

My breath caught. The walls seemed to close in. For a second I wasn't in the present anymore. I was back in that cell, hands raw from the chains, throat raw from screaming, waiting for him to come down and tell me about my execution.

I had completely underestimated how deeply the trauma was written into my very bones. All my logic was powerless against the visceral, physical memory of my torture.

Not again. Not here.

I gripped the lantern tighter until my knuckles went white. I forced myself to breathe. In. Out.

The memory was loud, but it wasn't real. Not this time.

It's okay.

I'm okay.

It's going to be okay.

I moved forward before I could stop myself.

***

Constantine sat chained to the wall, head bowed. His silver hair hung in damp strands across his face, stuck to the blood drying on his cheek and split lip. His red eyes were half-lidded, but they lifted the moment he heard the door open.

He looked like a fallen angel dragged through hell and left there. Handsome still, even broken.

I stopped in front of his cell, standing outside the bars, arms crossed, holding the lantern.

"You look terrible," I said.

Constantine laughed. It was rough, broken by whatever they'd done to him earlier. "You should've seen yourself in the previous timeline," he said. "You looked worse than me."

My jaw tightened. My fist clenched at my side, nails biting into my palm as I forced myself to hold back my surge of anger.

I unlocked the cell and stepped inside. Two guards waited outside, but far enough from the earshot.

I crouched down so I was at eye level with him. "Hours of interrogation, and you still have a mouth. Impressive. They said you didn't give them anything useful."

"Didn't have anything useful to give," he said. His voice was hoarse. "Unless you count my opinion of you."

I smiled mockingly. "Let's hear it."

He stared at me for a long moment. Blood had dried in the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were sharp.

"You're a hypocrite," he said quietly. "You drag me down here, chain me up, and you call it justice. You're no different from me."

I tilted my head. "Careful. That's treason."

"The truth hurts, Your Majesty," Constantine said. He shifted against the chains, wincing. "It's quite obvious with people like you. You may feign sophistication and kindness, but beneath it all, jealousy, anger, and hypocrisy lurk in your every word and action." He paused to catch his breath. "If you can't have something, you can just let it go, but instead, you try to obtain it at any cost, even if it means sacrificing others."