chapter 11
1567 Words
> The Angel Death Room grows darker as Daniell rises.
A single overhead light cuts through the shadows — landing squarely on Iskandar’s sweat-slicked face.
Silent. Cornered.
No prison bars — but every breath feels like a locked cell.
---
> In her right hand, Daniell holds a small dagger — not to use, but to remind him who she is.
> She stands inches away — staring without blinking.
Her face calm.
Her eyes — unapologetic.
---
> Daniell:
“You choose. The choice is in your hand.”
> She leans in — just enough for her words to drop like funeral bells into his skull.
> “You serve me… or you die in front of me.”
---
> Iskandar bows his head. His lips tremble.
Somewhere in his mind — Paksu’s voice whispers, ghosts of betrayal claw at his ribs.
But Daniell’s eyes speak louder than any ghost.
> He tries to speak — but what escapes is nothing more than a single question, cracked and thin.
> “If I choose you… am I still a bad man?”
---
> Daniell’s lips curl into a crooked smile. She leans closer — a breath from his ear.
> “You’re not bad.”
“You’re just… too scared to stand behind the right person.”
> She extends her hand — empty. No blade. No gun. Just her bare hand.
But that open palm weighs heavier than any bullet ever could.
---
💀 Final line
> “Choose.”
“Before I choose for you.”
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> Iskandar stares at that hand.
His wounded finger throbs — but Daniell’s breath burns deeper than any cut.
> And in that crushing silence, he understands one truth:
There is no bargaining position left.
There is no middle ground.
There is only choice — or a grave.
> The electric current cuts out for a moment.
Iskandar slumps forward in the metal chair — sweat-soaked hair clinging to his forehead, breath ragged and raw.
> Rahim looks at Daniell, waiting for the next order.
> But Daniell only lifts her hand — calm, unhurried.
She leaves a file on the table, then turns and walks out through the steel door.
---
> Minutes later — the door swings open again.
> Daniell returns — this time, not with a blade.
But with… a tray.
> On it:
– a bowl of steaming rice
– warm water
– a small container of wound medicine
> Draped over her arm — a thick comforter, a fleece blanket, and a pillow.
---
> Iskandar lifts his head, blinking. Confused.
"What… what is this?"
> Daniell places the tray down.
She wraps fresh bandages around his gashed finger — no words, no softness.
> Then she spreads the comforter out on the cold steel floor.
The pillow goes at one end. The blanket across his lap.
> “This Angel Death Room is cold.
It’s pure steel. The temperature’s kept low to wear a prisoner’s mind down.”
> “I don’t want you freezing to death before you finish your story.”
---
> Iskandar just stares at her. Hollow-eyed.
> “Do you… pity me?”
> Daniell tilts her head — and smiles. But it’s not warmth. It’s a guillotine.
> “If I pitied you, I’d let you go.”
“But I’m not letting you go.”
“I’m keeping you alive — just long enough to spit out every truth I own by right.”
---
> She sets the medicine in his hand.
> “Eat. Rest. Tomorrow morning, you keep talking.”
“Don’t expect sweet dreams. But at least you won’t die while you sleep.”
---
> Daniell turns to leave.
At the door, she glances back over her shoulder — voice like silk draped over a razor.
> “Not all torture uses blades.”
“Sometimes it’s a blanket and a warm meal.”
> “And that kind… always makes them confess faster.”
---
🔍 Mirror Room
> Rico glances at Terrance, voice low.
> “She’s crushing Iskandar’s pride. Slow. Precise. Unforgiving.”
> Terrance’s jaw tightens:
“We thought Daniell was ruthless…”
“…turns out she’s too clever to be human.”
> In the Angel Death Room —
Iskandar curls his knees to his chest on the comforter.
His bandaged hand trembling.
> His eyes sting — not from pain.
But from the suffocating truth:
the woman he once mocked… now made him too small to even hate properly.
> “What’s really inside your head, Daniell…”
*“…and why does it feel like i deserve to be broken by you.
---
---
> Night falls over the Angel Death Room.
The temperature drops. The steel turns to venom.
Iskandar curls in on himself — bandaged fingers, breath shallow, trying not to show how the cold crawls under his skin.
> The door clicks open — soft, deliberate.
Only one person enters without a sound.
> Daniell.
> Her arms full — three thick blankets, a pillow, and a small, steaming thermos.
---
> Iskandar lifts his eyes, slow.
> “Why are you here?”
> Daniell doesn’t answer.
She kneels — spreads one blanket across the freezing floor.
> One she drapes over his shoulders.
The next wraps around his back like a shield.
The last — she folds from his feet up to his neck, trapping the cold outside and the truth inside.
---
> “Tonight you’ll sleep. But remember — not because you’re safe.”
“Because I’m letting your body rest… before your mind is shredded open again tomorrow.”
---
> Iskandar tries for a mocking smile.
But his voice breaks, raw.
> “You came… just to tuck me in?”
> Daniell lowers herself to the floor — back pressed against the steel wall.
> “Tonight, I’m not here as your executioner.”
“I’m here as a shadow.”
“A shadow that waits for you to sleep… and wakes you when the dream turns into sin.”
---
> She slides a small pillow behind his head.
Takes a cloth — wipes the sweat from his fevered brow, careful, mechanical, mercilessly gentle.
> “Sleep. If nightmares come… wake up. I’ll still be here.”
---
> Before leaving, Daniell leans in — lips near his ear, a secret wrapped in ice.
> “And when you wake up, Iskandar…”
“Make sure your tongue speaks truer than your heart ever did.”
---
🌒 Final line – Iskandar in the dark
> He shuts his eyes.
His body still shivers — but not from cold.
From knowing he’s protected by the very woman who should be cutting him apart.
> “Daniell… you’re more than a leader.”
“You’re the hell I miss burning for.”
--
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> The neon light hums overhead in the Angel Death Room.
Iskandar sits hunched on the thin bedding Daniell laid down for him the night before.
Wrapped in blankets — but no warmth can shield him from a prison with no exit.
> Daniell stands before him — arms crossed, gaze sharpened into quiet threat.
Her voice? Calm. Deadly. More terrifying than any scream.
---
> “I’m giving you two choices, Iskandar.”
She steps to the cold steel table — fingers brushing its surface like she’s feeling the chill he can’t escape.
> “One: you work for me.”
“On one condition — you abandon Paksu. Betray him the way you betrayed me once.”
> “Or…”
She tilts her head down, voice lowering — softer than a blade, sharper than its edge.
> “Two: you tell me everything. Right now.”
> “Names. Locations. Codes. Every secret you’re rotting inside you.”
---
> She takes one more step closer — just enough for her shadow to swallow his.
> “If you choose silence… I’ll take that as you choosing death. And not a quick one.”
> “I’ll break you slow — and make your execution a training film for my next generation.”
> Iskandar swallows — throat dry as bone.
His mouth opens but no choice sounds less painful than the other.
---
> Daniell leans in — her breath brushing the side of his face, colder than the air around them.
> “This isn’t an offer. This is a warning dressed up pretty.”
> “And I don’t like giving second chances.”
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🩸 Mirror Room
> Rico watches, arms folded, fingers tapping his side.
Terrance whispers:
“She’s giving him mercy… but it sounds like a last prayer.”
> Brian behind them, calm as a funeral bell:
“Daniell gives you options… but every road still leads to her.”
> Iskandar lifts his head, eyes bloodshot — voice cracked but honest:
> “If I choose you… what guarantee do I have you won’t kill me once I’ve spilled everything?”
> Daniell’s lips curl — not warm, not cruel, just final.
> “There is no guarantee.”
“But there is a chance.”
> “And in my world… a chance is worth more than a life.”
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- Writer
