Chapter 160 My Angel | 053
AZREN
The leather of my chair creaks as I lean back in my swivel chair. Jake stands across from me, his arms crossed, looking like he's about to deliver a eulogy.
"The rift widened during your breakdown," he says without preamble. "Not by much, maybe a hairline crack, but it was enough that six new possessions were reported in the last twelve hours. All in the city. All violent."
I tilt my head, letting the chair rock slowly back and forth. The motion is almost soothing.
"Fascinating," I drawl, refusing to give away the grief that instantly sinks in. "And?"
Jake sighs. He hates when I play bored.
"Haden used the timing. He reached out to the Werewolf Corps head office in Rome. He told them the veil is fracturing because of you. He said you're a walking catastrophe, and if they don't 'contain' you soon, the entire supernatural population on this continent is at risk."
I snort, letting the chair tip backwards with a soft thud. My fingers drum once on the armrest.
"He's dramatic."
"Azren—"
"Relax, Jake." I wave a hand. "Haden's been crying wolf since the day I took Noelle. The Corps already has a file on me thicker than your skull. This is just noise."
He exhales through his nose like he's trying not to strangle me.
"Cam already went to inform your father. He figured the old man would know what strings to pull, who to call, and how to keep the Corps from putting a kill order on your head."
I groan, irritated.
"Of course he did."
Jake winces.
Before he can lecture me further, my phone vibrates on the desk. The screen lights up with Cam's name.
I swipe to answer and put it on speaker.
"Cameron," I say, my voice flat. "If this is about the rift widening again, I already know. Jake's giving me the quarterly apocalypse report as we speak."
There's a pause on the other end.
Then Cam's voice comes through, thick with tension.
"Alpha. Your mother is missing."
My foot stops swinging and the chair stops rocking. Jake freezes.
I lean forward slowly.
"Repeat that."
"She's gone. I came to the house like Jake asked. The front door was unlocked. Your father was on the floor in the foyer, unconscious. There's a stab wound in his side. It's not healing. Nyxara's aura is all over it."
My pulse is suddenly very loud in my ears.
"Mother?" I ask.
"No trace. No scent trail. Nothing. Just... the smell of her perfume still hanging in the air, as though she walked out five minutes ago."
I close my eyes. The chair creaks again as I stand.
Jake's already moving towards the door.
"Azren—"
I hold up a hand, and he stops. Cam's voice crackles through the speaker.
"He's not waking up. Val's on his way, but... the wound looks cursed. Like it's rejecting every attempt to close it. I can sense Nyxara's magic."
I open my eyes. The room feels colder and suffocating. Worse, Noelle isn't here. She already left for school for a test.
"Stay with him," I say to Cam. "Don't let anyone else near him. I'm coming."
I hang up.
Jake is staring at me like he's waiting for me to explode. I don't because it's going to be catastrophic if I do that. Besides, it's the last thing my parents need.
I grab my jacket from the back of the chair and shrug it on. Then I walk past him.
"Alpha—"
"Get the car," I say.
...
The smell of blood is thick in the air. Usually, it would spike my hunger. Now, it just makes me sick. I drop to one knee beside the couch where my father lies. His face is grey, his lips parted, his chest barely moving. For one stupid second I think he's already gone. Then I see the shallow rise and fall.
"Dad."
I press two trembling fingers to the side of his throat. The pulse is there, but it's weak.
"Dad," I say again, louder. My voice cracks.
He doesn't twitch or groan. He gives me no sign that he can hear me. I can't breathe.
I reach for the stab wound. The bandage is already soaked through. When I press down, fresh blood wells between my fingers, hot and slippery. My throat tightens so hard I can't swallow.
This is the same man I've told myself I hate for years. The same man who looked at me after I killed Trent and still called me son. And now he's lying here like a broken doll because he tried to protect my mother.
I hate him for it. I hate him for failing. I’m a hypocrite, I know.
Val's voice comes from the doorway.
"He's got six hours, Azren. Maybe less. The curse is resisting every healing attempt we've tried. The wound keeps reopening. If we can't break the binding spell on it soon..."
He doesn't finish. I don't need him to.
My mother is still missing. Nyxara has her. And my father is bleeding out on our couch... dying.
I stare at his face. The same sharp jaw I inherited. The same lines around the eyes that I'll have one day if I live long enough. He looks smaller than I remember.
I hate that most of all.
"Everyone out," I say. My voice is flat. "Now."
Jake hesitates. Cam's hand brushes my shoulder once before he nods and leads the others from the room. The door slides shut, and suddenly, the silence is overwhelming.
I keep pressing harder. Perhaps, If I push hard enough, the wound will close out of spite. But no, it just mocks me, more blood oozing.
"You idiot," I mutter, my vision blurring. "You absolute fucking idiot. You couldn't wait? You couldn't call me? You had to play hero and get yourself gutted?"
My hand shakes. I don't stop pressing.
"You always told me I was the reckless one. Look at you now. Lying here like a corpse while Mum is out there with that bitch. You promised you'd protect her. You promised—"
A wet cough cuts me off. His eyes flutter open, and my heart skips a fucking beat. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth when he tries to speak.
"Azren..."
His voice is shredded. He coughs again, and more blood spills over his lips, sliding down his chin. His hand fumbles for mine, trembling.
"Where... is she?"
I can't answer right away. My throat is too tight. He tries to sit up, but the movement rips a groan out of him, and fresh blood soaks through the bandage under my palm.
"You're dying," I croak. "Val gave you six hours. Maybe less. And you want to crawl out of here looking for her?"
His eyes meet mine. They're glassy with pain but still stubborn as hell.
"She's my wife," he whispers. "My mate. I'd crawl through hell for her. You know that."
I do.
Gods, I do.
Because I'd do the same for Noelle.
He coughs again, harder. Blood sprays across my shirt. His grip on my wrist weakens, but he doesn't let go.
His fingers dig into my flesh, his eyes glassy with pain and something worse.
Tears.
I've never truly seen my father cry. Not once. Not when the spirits first took root in me. Not even when I killed Trent.
But now tears pool in the corners of his eyes and flow down his cheeks.
"Azren..." His voice is barely a rasp. "Please. Find her. She's... she's my everything. If that woman has her—if she's hurting her—"
His chest heaves. Another wet cough racks him. More blood leaks. He tries to sit up again, stubborn even now, and he groans from the pain.
"Stay down," I snap, pressing harder on the wound. My hands are slick with his blood. "You're not going anywhere."
He ignores me.
"I failed her," he chokes. "I failed your mother. I told her I'd protect her. I promised. And now she's... she's gone because of me. Because I wasn't strong enough. Because I let her walk out that door alone."
His voice cracks. It feels like my chest is on fire.
"Stop," I rasp. "Just... stop."
He shakes his head weakly.
"Go," he begs. "Find her. Bring her home. I'll hold on. I swear I'll hold on. Just... don't let her die thinking I didn't fight for her. Please, son. Please."
His eyes flutter, and his grip on my sleeve slackens. And without warning, his head lolls to the side.
"Dad—"
He doesn't answer. His chest rises twice and stops. Then it moves again. Panic sizzles through me.
"Dad!"
I shake him gently at first, then harder.
"Dad—wake up. Wake the fuck up!"
He gives me no response. The room spins.
I lay him back down carefully. My hands shake as I adjust the blanket over his shoulders.
"Val!" My voice cracks on the shout. "Val—now!"
The door flies open, and Val rushes in, already pulling on his gloves. Jake and Cameron are right behind him.
"He passed out," I rasp. "He was talking. Then he just... stopped."
Val drops beside me and presses his fingers to his neck, then he peels back the bandage. Fresh blood wells up immediately.
"He's still alive," he says quickly. "His pulse is weak but there. The curse is fighting every attempt to close the wound. I can stall the bleeding—by maybe another hour or an hour and a half—but we need to break the curse, or he's not making it to morning."
I nod weakly. It feels like a nightmare. But I have to move. I have to do something.
Jake steps in front of me. "Where are you going?"
I don't answer.
"Azren, the surveillance team is already out. They're tracking her scent. Going after Nyxara while you're still recovering is suicide. You're in no shape—"
I shove past him.
My wings snap open before I even reach the hallway. I haven't used them in years.
I stride through the front door and launch myself into the sky, following my mum's vanilla scent.
My eyes are burning from the tears. I'm trying so hard to restrain myself because all I can think is that... everything is my fault. I won't...lose them like this.