DEATH over ANGEL.

The Celestial Citadel. The Main Study.January, 2026

The heavy oak doors of the study, adorned with the centuries-old golden carvings of the Celestial dynasty, seemed to barely contain the volatile fury radiating from within. The air inside the room was so thick with tension that the elderly advisor standing before the massive desk could scarcely dare to breathe. His fingers, desperately clutching a leather folder filled with financial reports, trembled visibly, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead despite the chill in the room.

Angel’s study resembled an ancient Gothic hall, where luxury intertwined with a dark, oppressive aura of power. The high ceilings, fading into the shadows, were covered with intricate, snow-white moldings that cast bizarre silhouettes in the dim light. The walls, fully paneled in dark, almost black wood, held the secrets of generations. The sole source of warmth was a colossal stone fireplace bearing the family crest; deep within its hearth, a fire crackled fiercely, casting crimson reflections across the patterned carpet and the massive leather Chesterfield sofa resting in the center. Yet, even this roaring fire failed to banish the piercing January cold creeping through the room. Outside the frost-rimmed windows, a brutal winter raged, wrapping the estate in a dense shroud of January fog and falling snow.

"I told you once already," Angel’s voice was deceptively quiet, but within the deathly silence of the study, it sliced through the advisor’s nerves more dangerously than a bared blade.

She didn’t even bother to look up from the paperwork scattered before her. Only her perfect, long acrylic nails tapped a dull, maddening rhythm against the polished surface of the desk. Each tap echoed in the man’s ears like the toll of a funeral bell.

"Wasn't that enough for you? My answer is NO. And I don’t want to hear another fucking word about this shit."

"But, Miss Celestial... Please, I beg you to listen," the man stammered, swallowing the hard lump of fear rising in his throat. "This deal... the new shipments along the coast... it truly could raise our net percentages. We could recover all of last quarter's losses if we just turn a blind eye to the cargo's origin..."

Angel raised her head slowly, with a chilling, calculated grace. In her dark, deep eyes, framed by thick lashes, there wasn't a single drop of warmth—only the absolute, impenetrable detachment of a leader who, at twenty-two years old, held a massive, bleeding empire on her shoulders.

"What am I, a fucking nobody to you?!" her voice suddenly erupted, striking the carved walls of the study so fiercely that the advisor instinctively took a step back, nearly dropping his folder. "Is my single 'no' not enough to make it through your tiny, worthless brain that this topic is permanently closed? Are you questioning my authority?"

"But the drugs..." he made one last, suicidal attempt, clinging to the numbers, "they will take the new shipment, and the market will instantly—"

"Get out," she cut him off, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"But Miss..."

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" This command felt less like an order and more like a final death warrant that brooked no argument.

Angel dismissed him with a sharp, disgusted flick of her wrist, not wanting to waste another second watching his face drain of color.

"Get this idiot out of my sight. Throw him to the dogs in the backyard for all I care, I don't give a shit. He has chewed up my fucking brains enough with his worthless numbers and excuses."

Two towering, two-meter-tall guards, who had been standing by the massive doors like silent stone statues, instantly moved into action. They grabbed the advisor's shoulders with an iron, unforgiving grip and unceremoniously dragged him toward the exit. The man tried to shout something, struggling in their grasp, but his resistance looked pathetic and foolish. In the Celestial Citadel, Angel’s word was the supreme, absolute law. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them with a dull, booming thud, leaving behind a ringing, suffocating silence.

Left entirely alone, Angel finally allowed herself to remove the mask of icy indifference that her status demanded day in and day out. With a heavy, exhausted groan, she sank back into her deep leather chair and covered her face with her hands. An unbearable fatigue washed over her like a lead weight, locking her muscles. She rotated the chair toward the massive panoramic windows that overlooked the frozen, ice-rimmed lake and the snow-covered courtyard of the estate. Outside the glass, sparse winter flakes swirled, emphasizing her absolute isolation in this massive castle.

"Fucking exhausted..." she breathed out into the empty room, pressing her cold palms against her throbbing temples.

Her head was splitting apart. Inside her, a hollow emptiness burned—not just emotional, but physical. Her stomach had long since stopped craving food, leaving behind only a faint, familiar nausea and the bitter, deeply embedded aftertaste of cigarette smoke on her lips. Between the endless, suffocating stress, the brutal cycle of contracts, and the rising pressure from the other powerful clans—Mortem and Aconite—she had simply forgotten what it felt like to live. What it felt like to be a normal human being, rather than a target.

"Sister, it’s a shitty idea to walk in without knocking, I know... but knowing your temper and how much you love locking yourself in this cave..."

"I will literally beat your ass," Angel promised in a hollow, lifeless voice, without opening her eyes or shifting her posture. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize that wild, slightly raspy voice out of a thousand.

"I've told you a hundred times: knock when you come in!" she hissed, finally forcing herself to open her eyes and spin her chair back toward the massive desk.

Sitting casually on the very edge of the polished wood, right on top of some crucial financial documents and charts, was Cassiel. Despite being a year younger than her, at twenty-one years old, he already carried himself as a dangerous, tall, and broad-shouldered man who knew his worth perfectly well. He sat with his legs crossed carelessly, a familiar, insufferable, yet devastatingly dear smirk blossomed across his handsome face.

"Ouch. You know, we haven’t seen each other in three whole years, I just got off the plane, fought my way through this January blizzard, and this is how I’m greeted? With death threats?" Cassiel chuckled, shifting his gaze from his hands to her face. "Well, at least you haven’t changed a bit, big sister. It’s comforting, really. The true Angel. Cold and dangerous."

"I have too much shit to do, I'm mad as hell... and it’s all because of that herd of idiots who don’t understand the word 'no' the first time," Angel rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling her twenty-one-year-old cousin's presence oddly taking the suffocating edge off her wild tension. The room instantly felt a bit less stifling. "But anyway... fine. I’m glad to see you, Cas. If you’re hungry from your trip, just say the word—I’ll order the servants to make you a proper dinner."

Cassiel didn’t answer right away. His playful, carefree gaze suddenly turned unnaturally sharp, far too serious. He slowly and evaluatively scanned her hollow cheeks, her pale, almost translucent skin, and the barely visible tremor in her slender fingers that she was trying so hard to hide.

"Have you eaten yourself? My little angry queen."

Angel said nothing. She simply averted her eyes, turning back to the window to stare at the winter landscape and the fog creeping over the frozen lake. That abrupt silence gave her away completely, better than any words.

Cassiel let out a heavy, disappointed sigh, his signature smirk vanishing from his face for a brief moment.

"Right... so that's a no. How long has this starvation marathon been going on? Did you decide to break your last record?"

"Fuck, that happened one time! Are you going to bring that shit up until the day I die?" Angel snapped, spinning back to face him fully. Dangerous, furious sparks flared in her tone once more.

"Well, you know, it’s not every day my favorite cousin survives on cigarettes alone for six days straight, completely giving up on food and destroying her body," Cassiel crossed his arms over his chest, real, deep concern bleeding into his voice for the first time. "Are you trying to put yourself in an early grave? For what?"

"I didn't skip meals for my own damn pleasure," Angel shot back, her nails tapping nervously against the leather armrest of her chair as she tried to control the internal shaking. "You have no idea what’s happening during the meetings right now. The kind of shit that's brewing between us, Mortem, and Aconite. This blood contract is suffocating all of us. I physically don’t have the time or energy for stupid things like lunch."

"But you could have found the time. You chose not to," he insisted stubbornly, frowning and refusing to back down under her icy glare.

Angel’s eyes flashed as she stared him down, as if measuring where best to strike.

"Did you come here just to fuck with my mind, Cas? Is that why you spent three years traveling?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he smiled softly again, putting his usual mask of lightness back on so he wouldn't completely push her over the edge or provoke a full-blown outburst of rage.

She let out a long, ragged sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. Her fierce, intimidating aura evaporated for a fraction of a second, leaving behind only a deeply exhausted girl who had been crushed under the unbearable, suffocating weight of power and responsibility for the entire clan.

"You should thank God that I love you, you idiot. Otherwise, I would have killed you on the spot without a second thought."

"I know," Cassiel slid off the desk and took a step closer to her chair, his voice dropping, losing all its bravado. "That’s exactly why I fuck with your mind. Because nobody else in this godforsaken cold Citadel will ever dare to tell you the truth to your face. Everyone else is just terrified of you."

Angel fixed him with a long, piercingly icy glare. Deep within her darkened pupils, the primal, dangerous, and cruel pride of the Celestial bloodline awoke for a split second—the very pride that had made their enemies tremble for centuries.

"Don’t forget, Cas... that I actually can kill you. It runs in the family."

Cassiel slowly raised his hands in mock surrender, but his signature smirk obediently reclaimed his lips, breaking the tension.

"I know, I know, my little angel. I know it perfectly well."