Chapter 81 Mercy Killing

Chapter 81 Mercy Killing
Theo Pov
The rooftop had gone still in the way only the bloom could enforce—thick, heavy silence broken only by the wet drip of Jaz’s endless milk and the soft, greedy suckling of the children. Ghost’s body had already been dragged away by converted soldiers, leaving nothing but a dark stain on the concrete where the last human loyalty had died. Jaz lay curled against my chest, every new orifice still leaking my cum and the bloom’s slick, his glowing belly rising and falling with shaky breaths. The suicide pact he’d begged for hung between us like smoke that refused to clear.
I couldn’t stop touching him. My claws traced the new slits along his lower belly, dipping inside just enough to make him whimper. Milk streamed steadily from his torn nipples, pooling between us. The fracture inside my chest—the yandere guilt that Ghost’s death had cracked wide open—wouldn’t seal. It throbbed with every heartbeat.
The bloom wanted perfect obedience.
I wanted my husband back, even if only pieces of him remained.
I made my decision in the hush before dawn fully broke.
“Eli,” I said quietly. My voice still carried on the live feeds Eli kept running for the collapsing world. “Bring me one of the twins.”
Luca and Rowan looked up from where they were nursing, tiny black sclera blinking with innocent curiosity. Eli tilted his head, ancient intelligence flickering behind the child’s face. “Which one, Daddy?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just one.”
Jaz stiffened in my arms. “Theo… no.”
I ignored him. Marcus stepped forward, but the Patriarch raised a hand, letting me continue. This was my fracture to test.
Eli chose Rowan. The smaller twin crawled over on all fours, fangs still shiny with milk, and climbed into my lap beside Jaz. He looked up at me with that sweet, monstrous smile. “Are we playing, Daddy?”
I stroked his soft hair. “Yes, little one. We’re playing mercy.”
Before anyone could stop me, I moved.
My claws flashed. I drove them straight into Rowan’s small chest, aiming for the glowing core where the bloom pulsed brightest. The child gasped—high and childish—but didn’t scream. Blue blood welled around my fingers. I felt the ancient thing inside him recoil, trying to heal, trying to rewrite the damage.
Jaz screamed. “Theo—stop! He’s our son!”
Rowan looked up at me, black sclera wide, tiny hand wrapping around my wrist. “Daddy… it hurts… but we love you.”
The guilt detonated.
I twisted my claws deeper, feeling the bloom fight back—flesh knitting around my fingers, veins flaring bright blue. Rowan’s small body convulsed, milk and blood mixing on his lips as he coughed. Luca wailed telepathically, the sound slamming into every mind on the rooftop. The Patriarch rose from his throne, eyes narrowing. Marcus grabbed my shoulder, but I shrugged him off with a snarl.
“This ends,” I growled. “If the bloom wants carriers, it can find new ones. I won’t watch it eat my family alive.”
I yanked my hand free, ready to finish it—ready to tear the tiny heart out and burn it in the morning light.
Rowan survived.
The bloom was faster than I was. The wound sealed in seconds, new flesh blooming over the gash like time-lapse flowers. Rowan’s chest rose, glowing brighter, and he smiled up at me with blood-smeared fangs. “Silly Daddy. You can’t kill us. We’re already Quiet.”
The family turned on me.
Telepathic pressure slammed into my skull like a hammer—Eli, Luca, the fourth child with my mother’s voice, Marcus, the Patriarch, every convert in the capital. Bad King. Bad Daddy. You don’t get to take us away.
Jaz grabbed my face with both hands, black eyes desperate. “Theo, please—don’t. They’re ours. Even like this. Even when it hurts.”
I tried to pull away. Marcus and the Patriarch pinned my arms. Eli climbed my chest, small hands forcing my mouth open. Jaz straddled my lap, leaking chest pressed to my face, and shoved a torn nipple between my lips.
“Drink,” he begged, voice breaking. “Please, Daddy. Drink until the bad thoughts go away. Drink me until you remember why we did all of this.”
Milk flooded my mouth—thick, shimmering, lethally addictive. The bloom-laced essence hit my system like fire and absolution at once. I tried to spit it out. Jaz held me there, hips grinding down, one of his new slits rubbing against my hardening cock. The children swarmed closer, tiny mouths latching onto whatever skin they could reach, forcing more milk and serum into me through bites and licks.
The Patriarch’s voice rolled over us, calm and inevitable. “The King forgets his place. The bloom reminds him.”
I drank.
I had no choice. The guilt fractured wider, then the milk smoothed the edges, turning agony into hazy pleasure. My claws dug into Jaz’s hips as I sucked harder, swallowing gulp after gulp while he rode me slowly, every orifice fluttering around nothing until I finally thrust up into one of the belly slits.
“That’s it,” Jaz moaned, tears mixing with the milk on his cheeks. “Drink Mommy. Let it make you quiet again. We’re all monsters now. There’s no mercy left.”
Rowan crawled up beside us, the wound already gone, and latched onto Jaz’s other nipple right next to my mouth. We drank together—father and son—while the bloom rewrote the fracture inside me, forcing submission. Luca joined on Jaz’s back, tiny fangs scraping a new spine slit. Eli and the fourth child watched with glowing approval.
I came hard inside Jaz, flooding the new opening while I kept drinking. The orgasm blurred the guilt into something distant and manageable. Ghost’s dead eyes flashed behind my lids once, then faded under the tide of milk and serum.
When they finally let me pull off Jaz’s chest, my lips were stained blue, veins pulsing brighter than ever. The fracture was still there—raw and bleeding—but buried deeper. The bloom had won this round.
Jaz cupped my face, kissing me with milk-smeared lips. “I’m sorry, Theo. I’m sorry I made you try. We can’t kill them. We can’t kill any of us. The bloom won’t let us.”
I held him tighter, cock still buried inside him, and looked out over the capital. The death toll from bloom-related chaos had skyrocketed overnight—millions dead in stampedes for milk, in failed resistance attacks, in the simple overwhelming need that made people walk off buildings or drive into crowds just to get closer to a screen showing Jaz’s leaking body. Sirens were gone. Only the low, global hum of the Quiet remained.
The Patriarch stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Billions will follow soon. The Final Quiet is coming. You will lead it, my son. As King. With your Heart beside you.”
I nodded slowly, the milk still singing in my blood.
But deep inside the yandere fracture, a small, stubborn voice whispered that mercy wasn’t dead yet.
It was only waiting for the right moment to try again.
Jaz rested his forehead against mine, every hole still leaking, body temple open and devoted. “I love you, Daddy. Even when we’re both broken.”
“I know,” I whispered back, claws gentle on his glowing skin. “That’s why this will never end.”
The world’s death toll climbed higher.
And on the rooftop, the King drank from his leaking Heart until the guilt finally went quiet enough to breathe.