Chapter 2 Angel's New Reality

The woman stood on the corpse that she just slain, her presence commanding attention like a goddess of battle.

Her skin, pale as alabaster, contrasted strikingly with her fiery red hair that cascaded down her shoulders in wild, untamed waves.

Each strand caught the lights from the moon, shimmering with a life of its own, as if flames had been woven into her very being.

Her eyes, a piercing shade of blue, were both captivating and dangerous, holding a depth that spoke of untold secrets and fierce determination.

They were the kind of eyes that could stop a man in his tracks, a chilling mix of beauty and menace that left one both entranced and uneasy.

She wore a red dress, though "wore" seemed too gentle a word for the tattered garment. It clung to her curves, the fabric torn in places, revealing slashes of creamy skin beneath.

The dress was stained with the remnants of battle, its once-vibrant hue now marred by dirt and blood.

Despite its state, it only added to her allure, giving her the appearance of a warrior queen who had just stepped off the battlefield, victorious yet unyielding.

In one hand, she gripped a long sword, its blade gleaming wickedly, and in the other, a dagger equally menacing. The weapons looked like extensions of herself, tools of a trade she had mastered.

Her pose was powerful, one hip cocked, the sword resting on her shoulder, while the dagger was held loosely at her side, as if daring anyone to challenge her.

She was the epitome of lethal grace, every line of her body exuding a dangerous sensuality that could captivate or destroy at a moment's notice.

"Samantha," the man said, his voice soft, almost pleading, as he slowly approached her. His eyes, the color of rich, dark crimson, held a mixture of love, fear, and desperation.

He was tall, with a strong, commanding presence that spoke of a man who was used to control, yet now he was uncharacteristically vulnerable. His hands were raised, palms out, in a gesture of peace.

But Samantha's expression remained cold, her blue eyes narrowing as she leveled the sword at him. The blade hovered just inches from his chest, its sharp edge glinting ominously in the dim light. There was no recognition in her gaze, only a fierce determination to protect herself from a perceived threat.

"Who are you?" she hissed, her voice edged with suspicion. Everything felt foreign-this place, this body, and especially this man who claimed to be her husband.

The name "Samantha" felt strange on her lips, yet it was the only identity she had now, a name that was hers but not hers at the same time.

"It's me, Roderick," he continued, his voice steady, though his heart pounded in his chest. "Your husband. Please, you know me."

Roderick. The name tugged at something deep within her, a distant memory, but it was like trying to grasp smoke. Flashes of a life she didn't recognize flickered through her mind-moments of tenderness, laughter, and shared nights.

But they weren't hers; they belonged to the woman whose body she now inhabited, the real Samantha.

She had died, Samantha remembered-or rather, the woman who had originally lived in this body had died. And in those last moments, Samantha had been someone else entirely.

She was from another world, a modern world, where the most dangerous thing she had faced was the relentless grind of daily life.

The memory of her death came back in a rush-the cold, dark waters of the ocean, the sound of gunfire, the desperate swim for the ship's deck, and then... nothing.

When she awoke, she was here, in this body, this life, with no idea how or why. The confusion and fear were still fresh, twisting inside her like a knot, but she couldn't let that show. Not now, not with this stranger who claimed to love her.

"I don't know you," Samantha whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She steadied her grip on the sword, the point pressing just a bit harder against Roderick's chest. "I'm not the woman you think I am."

Roderick's face fell, a shadow of pain crossing his features. But he didn't move away; instead, he stepped closer, the sword's tip now brushing against his tunic. "I don't believe that. I don't know what's happened to you, but I know my Samantha is in there. I can see it in your eyes."

His words struck her, but she forced herself to stay resolute. The last thing she needed was to be swayed by emotions that weren't even hers.

"Whoever she was, she's gone," Samantha said firmly, trying to convince herself as much as him. "And I'm not her."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension thick between them. Then, Roderick did something that startled her.

He dropped to his knees before her, the weight of his gesture pressing down on her as heavily as the sword in her hand.

"If you're not my wife," he said quietly, his voice hoarse, "then kill me now. But if you are... then please, let me help you remember."

Samantha stared down at him, torn between the life she had lost and the one thrust upon her. In her chest, her heart raced, not just with the adrenaline of battle, but with the impossible choice laid before her.

The woman she had been was gone, yet the life she had inherited was more complicated, and more dangerous, than she could have ever imagined.

The weight of everything she remembered crashed down on her like a tidal wave, nearly taking her breath away. The world she had known, the life she had led, all felt like a distant dream-one she was desperately trying to hold onto, even as reality pulled her further away.

She wasn't just Samantha, the tragic queen in a story; she was the Angel Executor, a figure of death and judgment in the modern world.

Her brother's voice, soft and reassuring, echoed in her mind, reminding her of the sacrifices they both had made, of the dagger she still clutched in her hand, the one he had given her before she embarked on her deadly path.

But this wasn't just about her anymore. The life she had now, as Samantha, was steeped in loss and vengeance.

She knew this story well, every word of it seared into her memory. The novel, "The Queen's Vengeance," wasn't just fiction-it was now her reality.

She had read it countless times, haunted by its tragic ending, unable to forget the pain and suffering that unfolded within its pages. And now, she was living it.

Her mind raced as she considered her options. She couldn't let this world's Samantha meet the same end as the one in the book.

There had to be a way to change the story, to find the lost children, and to give this tale a different ending.

Perhaps, if she could do that, she might find a way back to her own world. Or, at the very least, she could finally rest, knowing she had made something right.

"I need to find them," she murmured, more to herself than to Roderick, who was still kneeling before her, his eyes locked onto hers.

Roderick's expression softened as he heard her words, hope sparking in his eyes. "Find who? What are you talking about?"

Samantha's grip tightened on the sword, but she lowered it, just slightly. "The children," she said, her voice gaining strength. "I need to find the children who were taken from me-Samantha's children. And I need to stop what's coming before it's too late."

Roderick slowly rose to his feet, his face a mixture of confusion and cautious optimism. "You remember? Is this really you, Samantha? Are you... coming back to me?"

She met his gaze, struggling with the conflicting emotions inside her. This man, who had loved the original Samantha so deeply, was now looking at her with such hope.

But she wasn't the woman he had known-at least, not entirely. Yet she couldn't deny the pull of the life she had been thrust into, the need to see it through to a different conclusion.

"I remember enough," she said, her voice firm. "Enough to know that I have to do this. If there's a chance to change the ending of this story, I have to take it."

Roderick's eyes searched hers, and then, slowly, he nodded. "Then I'll help you," he said, determination hardening his voice. "We'll find them together. And we'll set things right."

For the first time since she had woken up in this strange, new world, Samantha felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with Roderick's help, she could find the missing pieces of this story and rewrite the fate of the woman whose life she now lived.

The Angel Executor might have been feared and unstoppable in her world, but here, in this one, she had a different mission-a chance to protect, to save, and to find redemption for a queen who had lost everything.

With a final, deep breath, she lowered the sword completely, her mind made up.

"Let's start by finding out everything we can about where the children were taken," she said, her voice filled with resolve. "And then, we'll hunt down everyone who was involved."

Roderick's smile was faint but genuine, and for the first time, Samantha allowed herself to return it.

She might be living someone else's life, but she would make it her own, no matter what it took. This was her reality now, and she would see it through to the very end.