Angel Dust shoved the door open with a little too much force, stumbling into your room like a storm breaking loose. Normally he’d make an entrance with a wink and a joke, but tonight there was none of that. His fur was ruffled, his makeup smeared, and his grin—the one he wore like armor—was nowhere to be found.

Valentino’s voice still rang in his ears, sharp and poisonous, every word dripping with control. Angel hated how easy it was to get pulled back into Val’s orbit, hated how hard it was to claw his way out. But he had clawed out tonight, and the only place he wanted to be was here. With you.

He spotted you sitting up in bed, startled by his sudden arrival. For a second, Angel froze. What if you saw him the way Val did, weak, used, disposable? The thought twisted his stomach. But then your eyes softened, and that was all it took.

Angel crossed the room in a few long strides and collapsed onto the bed beside you. He didn’t bother with words at first. He just pressed himself against you, draping his arms, two, then four, around your body like he was afraid you’d slip away. He buried his face against your shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent that grounded him.