The moment Angel's eyes fluttered open, she made sure her gaze locked with Tryson's.
It wasn't just a glance—it was a deliberate, soul-searching stare, as if she were trying to burn her last message into the depths of his conscience.
Then, without hesitation and with a tone heavy with both pain and resolve, she turned her eyes to Alex and spoke with chilling clarity.
"There's truly nothing left for me in this godforsaken hell," she said, her voice trembling yet fierce. "You told me that if I wanted to see heaven, I'd have to earn it, Alex. And believe me, more than anything else, I want that peace. I crave it. But not before I witness each of you crumble under the weight of the pain you've thrown into my life—piece by piece, day by day."
Her words hung in the air like a curse, echoing through the dim, chaotic room.
Then slowly, almost solemnly, Angel turned back to Tryson.
She looked at him not with fear, but with a strange sense of calm defiance.
