Chapter 172 My Angel | 065
NOELLE
"Luna, I'm not trying to pry. But I still think you should tell our Alpha about this before you go anywhere with her. It might be a trap," Blue tells me, much later after my last lecture for the day.
She has a point. However, even if it wasn't a trap, I don't think Azren would let me. Especially because he's always been on edge around Cooper.
Honestly, I don't want to do this either.
"Can you help me sneak out without Blair noticing?" I ask and she smiles.
"Easy peasy," Blue says with a grin that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
She's been on edge ever since Blair mentioned that she knows what I am. I don't blame her. I'm on edge too.
Blue glances around, then she jerks her chin towards the side exit. Blair on the other hand, is having a conversation with a group of girls.
"Keep your head down. I'll handle Blair if she glances your way."
I nod, my heart hammering as we slip out the emergency door and into the late afternoon sun. The campus is still buzzing with the remnants of the festival.
Blue keeps one hand on my elbow, guiding me towards the far end of the parking lot where a sleek black car is idling. The hair on the back of my neck rises stiffly like I'm being watched. So, I whirl around, but there's no one there.
"Get in, Noelle," Blue whispers.
I slide into the backseat, expecting to see our usual driver.
Instead, a guy who looks like Blue's mirror image is behind the wheel.
Same fiery red hair, same pale blue eyes with that ring of black, same ethereal beauty. Gosh.
He's dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, but there's a calm, collected stillness to him that feels like he's used to being the one who keeps everyone else from panicking.
Blue freezes halfway into the passenger seat.
"Darrell?" Her voice cracks with a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The guy—Darrell—turns his head slowly, giving her a small, calm smile.
"Got permission from the Alpha to keep an eye on you and the Luna," he says. "Figured two foxes are better than one when things might get tricky."
Blue's face flushes bright red. She slams the door harder than necessary and crosses her arms, glaring at him.
"You didn't think to mention this to me?"
"I didn’t want to distract you from your duties," he replies, checking the mirrors before pulling out of the lot.
Blue makes a strangled noise. "Damn you."
Darrell's lips twitch with just the faintest hint of amusement. But his expression stays serene. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, polite.
"Darrell Emerson," he introduces himself, his voice warm but professional. "Pleasure to meet you properly, Luna. I'll make sure we get where we're going safely."
I manage a small smile, still a little dazed by how identical they look.
"Nice to meet you too. You two are... twins?"
"Identical," Blue grumbles from the front. "Unfortunately."
Darrell chuckles softly. "She says that like it's a bad thing."
Blue swats his arm. "Drive, fox-boy. And don't get cocky."
I lean back against the seat, watching the campus shrink in the rear window.
I feel guilty for doing this. The emotion presses heavily on my chest, making breathing a chore. I really don't like this at all.
...
Azren doesn't return home early as usual. I end up scrolling through my phone, watching TV and doing laundry because my mind is still guilt-racked. I called him twice, but he didn't answer, and now I'm getting more worried as time goes by.
I must've dozed off on the couch waiting up for him. I'm awoken the moment I'm lifted into a familiar pair of strong arms.
I crack my eyes open, and there he is, gazing at me with a tender expression. He presses his lips to my forehead, and I smile, burying my face against his chest and inhaling his scent.
"Welcome home, baby," I whisper, my voice muffled.
"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. You must be so tired," he replies gently, and I shake my head.
"Nah, I'm good. Besides, it's not that...late..." my voice trails off when I glance at the digital wall clock to see the time.
01:36 AM.
My eyes go wide. If I was swept up by exhaustion, now I'm wide awake, taking a good look at my husband's face. He looks...bone-tired. That's not good.
"Honey? What happened?" I ask as he carries me up the stairs one step at a time.
"I...uh...I had a long meeting, more like a judgement session, I guess."
My eyes go wide. "You went to a court? Azren, that doesn't sound right."
He smiles weakly, his eyelids fluttering. He's so tired, I can feel him shaking. He was perfectly fine this morning. What on earth drained him like this?
"Apparently, the cracks on the veil have worsened. Fifty people lost their lives. And I had to take responsibility for it."
I freeze, my heart jumping into my throat.
"Fifty?" I whisper, my fingers tightening in his shirt. "Azren..."
He doesn't respond right away. He just keeps walking.
Each step feels heavier than the last, like the weight of those lives is dragging on his shoulders. By the time we reach the bedroom, his grip on me has tightened.
Gently, he lowers me onto the bed. For a second, he just stands there. Then he turns away.
Silently, he starts stripping off his clothes. He takes off his jacket first, then his shirt. The fabric drops to the floor without care. His back faces me, broad and powerful as always...
...but his shoulders are hunched.
His aura is dim and muted. I can feel his soul hurting…bleeding and… screaming.
It’s killing me.
"Az..."
He doesn't answer. He braces his hands on the dresser, his head lowered, his breathing uneven. His muscles tense under his skin like he's holding something in, something too big to let loose.
I can't just sit there. So, I push myself up from the bed and walk to him quietly. Then I wrap my arms around him from behind.
He freezes.
He's only in his pants now, his skin warm under my palms, but there's a tremor running through him.
I press my cheek to his back.
"...Is it loud in there?" I ask softly, lifting one hand to tap lightly at his temple.
He breathes shakily, his biceps flexing. For a moment, I think he won't answer. Then slowly... he nods.
My stomach drops.
His eyes dart across the room like he's tracking something I can't see. Like he's not alone.
A chill crawls up my spine.
"...Is someone here?" I whisper.
That makes him go still. Then his gaze drops to the floor.
"...Yeah."
"W-who?"
He hesitates for a moment. And when he finally speaks, his voice is so low, I have to strain my ears to hear it.
"...Trent."
My breath catches in my throat. "Trent...? The one you—"
"—Yeah," his voice is hollow. "The one I killed."
Silence crashes between us and my heart starts racing.
"Oh my god..."
I tighten my arms around him instinctively.
"What... what is he saying?" I ask, my voice trembling.
Azren clenches his jaw, gripping the dresser tighter.
"He's reminding me," he mumbles. "Over and over. Every detail. Every second. The way he looked at me... right before it happened."
My eyes sting instantly.
"He says I didn't hesitate," Azren continues, his voice growing weaker by the moment. "He claims that I liked it. Apparently, I always do."
My chest aches.
"No..."
"He says I don't deserve any of this," he adds, his voice cracking just slightly. "Not power. Not a family. Not... you."
That's it. That's where something in my chest snaps.
"Excuse me??"
My grip on him tightens as I lift my head, glaring at absolutely nothing.
"Oh, hell no."
Azren stiffens slightly. "Noelle—"
"No, because who the hell does he think he is?" I cut in, stepping around him now, positioning myself in front of him as if I can physically block whatever ghost is attacking his mind.
I look around the room, wishing I could confront the jerk face-to-face.
"Listen to me, Trent—or whatever miserable echo of guilt you are," I snap, my voice sharp with anger. "You don't get to sit in his head and rewrite who he is."
Azren's breathing falters.
"He didn't enjoy it. He survived it," I continue, my voice shaking from fury. "And the fact that you're trying to twist that says more about you than it ever will about him."
Tears blur my vision.
"You think he doesn't carry that already? You think he hasn't punished himself enough?"
I shake my head, wiping my cheek roughly.
"Get out of his head," I whisper harshly.
The room is deadly silent. My husband is staring at me, wide-eyed. And those beautiful eyes are glassy and raw with both pain and disbelief.
For a moment, he just breathes.
Then slowly, his shoulders drop. The tension in his body eases a little, moisture clouding the blue in his eyes.
"...Angel," he whispers.
I move closer immediately, cupping his face.
"I'm right here," I say softly now, all that fire melting into something gentler. "You're not alone in there anymore. Do you hear me?"
He closes his eyes.
“I didn’t…tell you everything,” he whispers.
When he opens his eyes, a muscle jumps in his cheek, a furrow sitting between his brows. My mouth goes dry.
“W-what do you mean?”