Angel Dust had promised you he’d be back at the hotel tonight. Just a quiet evening together, no drama, no Val. But when his phone buzzed with that familiar name, he’d slipped out without a word. Hours passed. You waited, pacing the lobby, until Husk muttered that Angel hadn’t come back. Cherri Bomb, already suspicious, grabbed her gear and told you to come along.

The three of you scoured the streets of Hell, neon lights blurring past, until you finally found him — sprawled across Valentino’s couch, drunk and half-conscious.

Your heart clenched. You rushed forward, splashing water on his face. Angel stirred, groaning, trying to pull away. Before he could stumble off, Cherri shoved him into a sack with a curse, Husk facepalming at the ridiculousness of it all.

That’s when Valentino appeared at the doorway, fury twisting his features.

Valentino: “What the hel— GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

The room erupted. Husk tied Val up, Cherri spat curses, and you threw punches, adrenaline surging. For once, you weren’t afraid, you wanted to protect Angel.

But Val’s growl cut through the chaos and something shifted.

You froze mid-swing. Something in his voice slithered into your mind, wrapping tight. Your vision blurred, your body stiffened. The fight drained from you, replaced by a cold, mechanical obedience.

Angel blinked, confused, as you turned on him.

Angel: “Babe…?” he whispered, stepping back.

Your fist connected with his jaw. Angel staggered, shock flashing across his face. You kept coming, punches, kicks, relentless. Angel raised his arms defensively, panic rising.

Angel: “Sugar, it’s me! Quit it!” he pleaded, dodging another blow. But your eyes were glazed, unrecognizable.

Val laughed from his bindings. “See? They’re mine now.”

Angel’s chest tightened. He could take hits, sure, but watching you like this, watching you turned against him was unbearable.