Chapter 212 My Angel | Epilogue ❤️❤️❤️
Chapter 212 My Angel | Epilogue ❤️❤️❤️
AZREN
There are exactly six reasons I no longer know peace. Six.
Not five or seven.
Six.
I push open my dad's study door without knocking.
Dad is exactly where I expected him to be, reclined like a king in his ridiculously expensive massage chair, his eyes half-lidded, one hand lazily resting on the armrest like he doesn't have a care in the world.
Traitor.
I walk in, holding up the bottle like an offering to a very dangerous god.
"Peace offering," I say.
One of his eyes cracks open suspiciously.
"...That's my favourite wine."
"Yes."
He studies me now, fully alert.
"...what did you do?"
I drop into the chair opposite him and place the bottle on the table between us.
"I need you to reverse it."
He sits up slightly.
"...reverse what?"
I stare at him. "The curse."
He says nothing at first. Then he smiles.
"What curse?" he asks, his voice calm.
I lean forward.
"The one where you apparently cursed me to pass down my worst traits to my children like it was a family heirloom."
His smirk widens as he folds his arms, completely entertained.
"...what did they do?"
I laugh. It's not a happy sound.
"Which ones?" I ask.
"All of them."
I inhale slowly.
"...the twins," I start.
His grin sharpens instantly. Fucking fuck it.
"They set off the school alarm system," I say.
He nods thoughtfully. "Continue."
"They rerouted the bloody fire suppression system."
Dad's brows lift slightly.
"...impressive."
"IT FILLED THE ENTIRE WEST WING WITH FOAM."
He bites his lip.
"Oh, that's unfortunate," he says, his voice strained.
"They called me," I continue, "to inform me that my sons were found standing on the principal's desk declaring it 'a controlled demonstration of structural failure.'"
Dad exhales sharply through his nose.
"...that sounds familiar."
"DO NOT," I point at him, "DO NOT say that like you're proud."
"I'm not proud," he says immediately. "...I'm impressed."
I drag a hand down my face.
"This is your fault."
"It is not. Remember Karma? You should drag this out with her."
I glare at him.
He finally reaches for the bottle, inspecting it like he's deciding whether I've suffered enough.
"...and the other four?" he asks casually.
I laugh again.
"The third one started a betting ring."
"...on what?"
"...how long it would take the twins to get expelled."
Dad goes still.
"...that's smart."
"NO, IT'S NOT."
"The fourth one," I continue, "somehow convinced three teachers she's allowed to 'override curriculum limitations.'"
"...what does that even mean?"
"I DON'T KNOW."
"The fifth one," I say, my voice dropping, "bit someone."
Dad pauses.
"...provoked?"
"No."
"...just for fun?"
"...yes."
He nods slowly.
"...valid."
"IT IS NOT VALID."
"And the last one," I finish, exhausted, "hacked into the school system to change everyone's lunch schedule because she 'didn't like the pasta rotation.'"
Dad goes completely still. Then he leans forward.
"...okay, Cassie is very good."
"I KNOW."
He opens the bottle, pours himself a glass and takes a slow sip. Then he closes his eyes as if this is the best moment of his life.
"...you came here," he says calmly, "to ask me to reverse a curse... that produced six highly intelligent, strong-willed, strategically chaotic children."
I stare at him.
"Yes."
He opens one eye.
"...and you don't see the problem?"
"I see six problems," I snap.
He chuckles.
"Oh, kid," he says, shaking his head. "This isn't a curse."
I narrow my eyes.
"...then what is it?"
He leans back, lifting his glass slightly.
"This," he says, "is legacy."
I hate him so much.
"I'm serious," I mutter. "Take it back. Take all of it back. I don't want it."
"Too late. I warned you."
"When?!"
"When you were younger," he says. "You just didn't listen."
I slump back in my chair.
"...they're going to kill me."
He snorts. "You survived worse."
"I mean it," I say. "They work together. That's the worst part. They coordinate."
He freezes. Then he slowly turns his head toward me.
"...they what?"
"They plan things together."
Then his lips twitch.
"...oh, that's dangerous."
"I KNOW."
He takes another sip of his wine, completely at peace. Meanwhile, my life is falling apart.
"...you'll figure it out," he says.
"I won't."
He studies me for a long moment. Then, he smirks.
"...good luck."
I stare at him. "You're useless."
"I'm retired."
I stand, grabbing the bottle.
"No—hey—" he protests.
"Payment retrieved," I say flatly.
"You brought that for me."
"I changed my mind."
I head for the door, my head pounding.
"Azren," he calls.
I pause.
"...what?"
"...you're doing fine," he says softly.
I don't turn around.
"...yeah?"
"Yeah."
I exhale slowly.
"...thanks."
.....
The house was too quiet for a Saturday evening. This was the planned kind of quiet. Which is way worse. I'm halfway down the hallway when I hear it.
"...you think he'll notice?"
"Eventually," an identical voice replies.
I stop slowly.
"...Talon," I call.
Silence greets me.
"...and whichever one of you is pretending not to be Talon. I can hear you breathing," I say through gritted teeth.
"...rude,” one of them drones.
I push the door open, and my soul immediately leaves my body.