Angelo
If I had a dollar for every time I thought I’d hit bottom only to find a new trapdoor, I’d be buying a private island instead of bleeding out in a jungle temple that’s crumbling faster than my hopes for a quiet life. Rosalia’s staring down Camila, who’s back with some creepy new glow in her eyes, offering a deal like she didn’t just betray us all. The silver wolf’s under Enzo’s control, snarling at us, and Andre’s vanished with the journal, leaving us screwed. Isabella’s fighting off chanters, and I’m barely conscious, my body a roadmap of pain. Protecting Rosalia was my job, and I’m failing spectacularly, but her stubborn fire keeps me fighting, even if trust between us is shakier than this temple’s foundation.
My vision blurs, blood pooling under me, but I force myself to focus.
