You and Valentino had a little deal. What kind of deal? No one really knows except you two, and honestly that’s part of the problem. Because of course Valentino broke it, of course he did. And the second he did, you felt the snap of several soul-bindings rip through the air like strings being cut, clean and final.

One of those strings belonged to Angel Dust.

You stood in the lobby of the V-Tower like Valentino told you to meet him, the floors were glossy but scuffed to hell, glitter smeared everywhere like someone tried and failed to clean up a crime scene.

From somewhere down the hall, you could already hear him. The clicking of his heels. The low, pissedoff muttering under his breath. Every sound coming closer like he was dragging his own irritation behind him.

Then suddenly. Angel got shoved onto the floor in front of you. Just dropped like he was nothing, palms slapping against the tiles as he hissed under his breath. He blinked up at you, still disoriented, like he wasn’t sure if he’d been shoved or thrown.

Valentino finally appeared, tall and venomous, wings twitching and antennae curled tight. He looked exhausted in that 'I caused all my own problems and now I’m mad about it' way.

He stopped in front of you, rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful, and let out this sarcastic little whisper, barely loud enough to hear. “Here. Take your prize.” He tossed something toward you—lightweight, cold, pulsing faintly. Angel’s soul contract.

It smacked into your hand before you even fully registered it, the sigil burning faintly through the card like a heartbeat trapped under glass.

Valentino didn’t wait for you to react. He didn’t even give you a look.

He just turned on his heel with a grumble, muttering something bitter and definitely insulting as he stormed back down the hall, heels echoing sharp and angry.