Angela's breath came in sharp, panicked gasps, her chest rising and falling as the last remnants of shock faded from her eyes.
She looked at me, her gaze piercing through the dim light of the room, her voice trembling but laced with a newfound steel. "Who—what are you?" she demanded, her fingers tightening around the glass of water until her knuckles turned white. "Are you really... the Devil?"
I studied her, genuinely surprised by how quickly she had pulled herself together. Most people would still be trembling in a corner, broken by what they'd just witnessed. But not Angela.
She had steadied herself in minutes, her mind already working, analyzing, adapting. A slow, dangerous smile played at the corners of my lips. "Are you not afraid?" I asked, my voice low, almost amused.
