Page 106 of Espíritu

Angel’s grip tightened on the dagger. They didn’t reply.

The nonanswer burned hotter than a yes.

“You don’t understand—” Angel started, voice strained as they stepped forward.

“Then make me understand!” Julian snapped. His voice hit the air like a crack of thunder. “Because right now? It looks like you’re feeding spirits to Bahlam, and lying to our faces about it!”

Angel flinched, just slightly, and that tiny hesitation made Julian’s stomach turn. His heart plummeted, the realization slamming into him like a bad bail off his board—too fast, too hard, nothing to catch him but the concrete.

They weren’t denying it.

Angel’s grip tightened on the dagger, and Julian’s eyes flicked to the blade. He thought of Felipe—of the way his form had twisted, the scream that tore from him as he turned. He felt sick.

“I’m doing what I have to do,” Angel ground out, as if it were the only truth they had left.

“Bullshit,” Maritza growled.

Julian wanted to shout. He wanted to fight. He wanted to shove Angel into the dirt and make them feel the pain they’d just caused.

But even now, part of Julian—a very small part—didn’t want to believe it.

There had to be more. A reason. Something he didn’t know yet. Because the Angel he knew—the one who had patched him up behind a Jack in the Box and told him he was strong—that person wouldn’t do this.

Right?

He needed Angel to tell him this wasn’t what it looked like. That there was something bigger. Something that made sense.

Julian stepped closer, every word scraping out of him like glass. “Then tell me why. Tell me why you did this.”

Angel’s eyes flicked toward the petals still hovering in the air, and something cracked in their expression—not sorrow. Not guilt. Just anger that they’d been stopped.

“Because no one else would,” Angel said, voice low and bitter. “Because Lady Death ignored me. Because Bahlam is the only one who listened.”

It was like someone had sucker punched all the air out of him. Julian just stood there, stunned.

He’d defended Angel to Maritza, to Yads. To himself. He wanted to believe they had a reason. That it was all some big misunderstanding. That Angel was like him—scarred, angry, lost, but still good underneath.

But now all he could see was that Maritza had been right. Angel was dangerous. She’d been helping Bahlam on purpose. Julian had been too stubborn to see it, and now he’d put Yadriel and Maritza in danger because of it.

He’d vouched for Angel. He’d trusted them.

And they’d taken that trust and carved it into someone’s soul.

Angel had turned Felipe into a maligno.

Felipe, who sang to the spirits. Who made them smile. Who gave out serenades like it was a second job.

And Angel had killed him.

Not just killed—corrupted. Twisted. Ruined.

Julian stared at them, his breath shallow and his pulse roaring in his ears.

This is just like Catriz, he realized. The same betrayal. The same sharp drop from trust into terror.

He glanced at Yadriel. His portaje was still in his hand, but his gaze hadn’t left Angel, sharp and wary like he was waiting for the next move. Angel’s golden eyes flicked between them—measuring, calculating.

Catriz had been someone Yadriel loved. Someone who stood by him, protected him—and then tried to use him. Tried to use Julian, too.