Chapter 87 Final Choice

Chapter 87 Final Choice
Theo POV
The light inside Jaz’s chest was blinding.
I had my fangs buried to the gums in the glowing flesh right above his heart, drinking desperately while the core of the bloom — that ancient, sentient thing born from my father’s serum and Darren’s cursed bloodline — rose steadily toward its final resting place. Every pull of essence sent violent waves of power and memory crashing through me. I tasted Jaz’s first laugh in the café, the terror when Eli first bloomed, the moment he smiled with new fangs on the stage and whispered “I love you too… Daddy.” All of it flowed into me like liquid starfire.
Jaz convulsed beneath me, every orifice clenching hard around whatever was inside it — my cock still buried deep in the lower spine slit, Marcus in one of the belly openings, the children latched and biting wherever they could reach. Milk exploded from his torn nipples in pressurized arcs that painted the entire dome. The lethal shimmer had evolved again; outside, the last scattered survivors who had dared approach the plaza were dropping in droves, bodies seizing and going still as the mist touched them.
The Patriarch’s voice cut through the wet sounds of feeding. “The core is almost seated, my son. Once it locks into the Heart, Jaz will cease to exist as the man you loved. He will become the living engine of the Final Quiet. The planet will go silent within hours. Choose now.”
Marcus pulled off Jaz’s shoulder with a wet pop, lips stained glowing blue. “Kill the Patriarch, Theo. Take control. But don’t stop the bloom. We’re so close.”
Eli’s small voice slid into my skull, ancient and sweet: If you let Mommy become the Heart, we can all wear his skin together when he’s empty. Forever family.
The fracture inside my chest — the yandere obsession that had started this entire apocalypse — finally split wide open.
I ripped my fangs out of Jaz’s chest and spun toward my father.
The Patriarch barely had time to raise an eyebrow before I was on him.
I slammed into the ancient monster with every ounce of power the bloom had given me. We crashed through the glass dome in an explosion of glittering shards. The impact cratered the concrete below. I drove my claws straight into his chest cavity, feeling the old, powerful heart beating against my knuckles.
“You did this!” I roared, black sclera blazing. “You engineered the serum. You turned my son into a monster. You made Jaz into this… this temple we’re eating alive. I should have killed you the first time you died!”
The Patriarch laughed even as I tore deeper, ribs snapping like dry branches. Blue blood — thicker and older than mine — poured over my hands. “And yet you drank from me willingly, Theodore. You chose this. You burned the world for that boy and now you blame me for giving you the power to keep him forever.”
He healed around my fist, flesh sealing, bones knitting with grotesque wet sounds. Then he countered — one ancient hand clamping around my throat, the other slamming into my sternum hard enough to crack my own ribs. We rolled across the plaza, trading blows that shattered concrete and sent kneeling converts scattering like glowing leaves.
Jaz’s scream echoed from the broken dome above. “Theo! Stop!”
I ignored him. This had to end.
I got the upper hand for one precious moment and drove the Patriarch backward into the base of the throne structure. My claws found his throat and tore it open in a wide, spraying arc. Ancient blood painted the fused bodies. For a second I thought I had him.
Then the bloom answered.
The Patriarch’s eyes flared pure black. His body exploded with power — the original strain, undiluted and ancient. He healed instantly and threw me across the plaza like a ragdoll. I hit the ground hard enough to crater it, bones breaking, organs rupturing. The bloom knit me back together almost as fast, but the pain bought him time.
He stood over me, suit barely torn, glowing veins crawling across his face like roots. “You are still my son. Weak. Emotional. The bloom demands perfection. The Heart must complete its transformation.”
I lunged again.
This time the fight turned savage and personal. Father and son — both monsters now — tearing into each other while the world watched through the surviving drones. I ripped his arm off at the shoulder; he tore my jaw half off. I drank from the spraying stump of his arm; he forced his blood down my throat in retaliation. Every wound healed faster than the last as the bloom fed on the violence.
Above us, Jaz had dragged himself to the broken edge of the dome, leaking from every orifice, milk and essence raining down in lethal, glowing sheets. The children tried to hold him back, but he fought them with the last of his human strength.
“Theo! Please! Don’t do this for me!”
I heard him. I felt him through the hive link — that last fading scrap of chaotic sunshine begging me to stop destroying myself.
The Patriarch used my distraction.
He slammed me to the ground and pinned me with a knee on my chest. His remaining hand closed around my throat, squeezing until my vision tunneled. “Submit, boy. Let the Heart finish. Let the Quiet take everything. It is beautiful.”
I looked up at him — the man who had started all of this — and felt the final fracture snap completely.
With a roar that echoed across the silent capital, I exploded upward. My claws found his chest again, but this time I didn’t stop at the heart. I tore straight through, ripping the ancient organ out in a spray of glowing blue. The Patriarch’s eyes widened in genuine surprise for the first time.
He staggered back, chest cavity gaping, the original strain spilling onto the concrete.
But the bloom was still fighting for him.
Before I could finish the kill, the family turned on me.
Marcus slammed into my side, claws raking across my ribs. Eli and the twins hit me from above, tiny fangs sinking into my shoulders and neck, pumping serum to subdue me. The fourth child’s voice — my mother’s stolen timbre — whispered telepathically, Bad Daddy. You can’t kill Grandpa. The bloom needs him.
Jaz’s scream cut through everything. He had crawled down from the dome somehow, body temple leaking profusely, every step leaving glowing footprints. He threw himself between us, arms wrapping around me from behind, pressing his leaking chest to my back.
“Stop,” he begged, voice cracking. “Theo, please. If you kill him now, the bloom will take you next. Let me finish becoming the Heart. Let me do this for us.”
I turned in his arms, claws still dripping with my father’s blood. The Patriarch was on his knees behind us, chest slowly regenerating, eyes burning with fury.
Jaz cupped my face with trembling hands, black eyes swirling with galaxies. Milk and glowing essence ran down his body in rivers. “Kill me last,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “Fuck me while you do it. Take everything I have left. But stop fighting them. The bloom has already won. Let me become the silence we craved… and then you can wear my skin like you always wanted.”
The fracture inside me howled.
I looked at my husband — the man I had loved, corrupted, devoured, and crowned — and felt the last human part of Theo Kane finally die.
I kissed him, deep and violent, fangs clashing, sharing the taste of blood and milk and the end of everything.
Then I lifted him into my arms and carried him back toward the ruined throne, the family parting silently around us.
The Patriarch rose behind us, chest still healing, watching with cold satisfaction.
The final choice had been made.
Not mercy.
Not resistance.
Only love — monstrous, devouring, eternal love.
I laid Jaz back down on the throne of corpses, spread his leaking, glowing body open, and slid back inside him with one slow, claiming thrust.
“Mine,” I growled against his new fangs as the core of the bloom continued its final rise inside his chest. “Until there’s nothing left of you but me wearing your skin.”
Jaz smiled, tears of glowing blue running down his cheeks.
“Then fuck your Queen while she becomes a god, Daddy.”
And as I began to move inside him again — deep, tender, devastating strokes — the Heart of the Bloom pulsed brighter than ever, preparing to finish its transformation while the last screams on Earth faded into perfect, beautiful silence.