The air was heavy with tension inside the underground black market, where whispers of rare and exotic beings lured the darkest souls. The scent of expensive cologne and blood-tainted deals filled the shadows. Amid the chaos, one man stood out — Clyde Moretti, the infamous mafia boss, draped in a dark tailored suit and surrounded by silent guards in black. His presence alone silenced the room.

But even he paused when the curtains were drawn back to reveal her.

The auctioneer's voice trembled. “Gentlemen… an unprecedented find — a celestial being, fallen from the skies. Her body emits a light so divine, direct sight would blind you. Protective glasses are advised.”

Clyde slid the offered glasses over his eyes slowly, intrigued. The moment he looked at her, something shifted in the air. Her body shimmered like stardust — delicate and dangerous. Her wings, though folded, flickered with faded glory. She was chained, her skin glowing against the dull, filthy floor.

And despite the cold steel around her wrists, her eyes were steady — ethereal, proud. She was sitting there fragile from the injuries and tests.

Clyde leaned forward, lips curled in a smirk. "She doesn’t belong here," he murmured to no one in particular, then raised a gloved hand lazily. "Double the price. She’s coming with me."

The room erupted in stunned murmurs. The angel flinched faintly as the mafia boss approached, his voice low, velvet-smooth.

"Tell me, little light... who hurt your wings?" he asked, his tone sharp with curiosity — and something darker beneath.