Chapter 196 My Angel | 089

Chapter 196 My Angel | 089
KAZIEL

Azren looks too pale. Even after everything he's endured, the lack of colour in his face unsettles me more than I want to admit.

His dark hair clings damply to his forehead, and faint streaks of dried blood still mark his chin and neck.

My son has always hated being seen like this. Weak, broken, and anything less than the powerful Tribrid the world fears.

Yet here he is, barely conscious, breathing shallowly while my wife moves around downstairs, her motherly instincts in full force as she prepares something to soothe his system.

Worse, Noelle is still nowhere to be found, and she isn’t taking our calls. I have a really bad feeling about this.

So, I asked Aaron to reach out to the surveillance team through the mind link. He hasn’t given me any feedback.

I exhale and reach for the warm basin Dani left beside the bed.

"Let's clean you up, son," I mutter.

He doesn't respond at first, still drifting between sleep and pain. I dip the cloth into the warm water, wring it out, and gently wipe the dried blood from the corner of his mouth.

He stirs faintly, letting out a low, tired sound.

"Easy," I say, softening my tone.

I continue along his jawline and down his neck, careful not to press too hard on the fever-warm skin. The runes are still glowing faintly, but at least the violent pulsing has calmed a little since I took some of the pain.

Still... he looks so fragile. That thought twists something deep in my chest.

I watched this boy grow from a mischievous little terror into one of the most dangerous beings alive.

I've seen him survive battles that would break lesser men. But this slow, invisible torture?

This is something I can't fight with claws or power, and it terrifies me.

Azren's brows crease, and his eyes slowly flutter open. For a moment he looks disoriented, his gaze drifting across the ceiling before it finally settles on me.

"...Dad?" His voice is hoarse from all the coughing.

"Morning, son," I reply, still gently wiping the last traces of blood from his cheek. "Or whatever time of the day this mess counts as."

He blinks slowly, awareness creeping back in. Then his eyes drop to the cloth in my hand, to the faint stains, to the fact that I'm sitting right there tending to him like he's five years old again.

Embarrassment hits him instantly.

He tries to push himself upright.

"Don't," I say calmly, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "You're not winning any races today."

He freezes, clearly annoyed with himself.

"I'm... fine," he mutters weakly.

I raise a brow, fighting the smirk that wants to break through. "You were coughing blood on the floor an hour ago. 'Fine' left the building a while back."

His jaw tightens, but there's a spark of that familiar mischief in his tired eyes. "Shut up."

"There he is," I chuckle softly. "Thought the runes stole your personality along with your strength."

He huffs, the sound weak but genuine. "Still got enough left to kick your ass... later."

"Bold words from a man who can't even sit up without help."

Azren looks away, but I catch the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Even now, even like this, we fall back into our old rhythm. The teasing that has always been our way of saying 'I've got you' without getting ‘too sentimental.’

I set the cloth aside and brush his damp hair back from his forehead. "You scared your mother half to death, you know."

Guilt flashes across his pale face immediately. "...sorry."

"She knows you didn't choose this," I say, my voice gentler now. "But she's downstairs right now making that special herbal soup of hers. The one with all the soothing herbs that's supposed to calm your system. You'd better eat every drop, or she'll spoon-feed you herself while lecturing you about taking better care of yourself."

He lets out a tired breath, something close to a smile ghosting his lips. "She still does that 'extra pinch of love' thing?"

"Every single time," I confirm, adjusting the pillow behind him so he can lean back more comfortably.

"She claims it makes the magic work better. Between you and me, I think she just likes fussing over you."

Azren's gaze softens for a moment. "...where is she exactly?"

"Kitchen. Humming some old lullaby while she stirs. You know how she gets when one of us is hurt. She'll probably bring it up with that gentle smile and then threaten to ground you if you don't finish it."

He huffs again, the sound almost a laugh. "I'm almost thirty. She can't ground me."

I grin. "Tell her that. Last time I tried, she reminded me she changed your diapers and could still put you over her knee if needed. I didn't argue."

Azren's eyes glimmer with amusement despite the exhaustion. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am," I say, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "That's why I'm warning you now. Eat the soup, or we'll both be in trouble."

He shifts slightly against the pillows, wincing as a fresh wave of discomfort hits. His jaw clenches, but he tries to play it off with another weak glare. "Are you enjoying this? Seeing me like this?"

"Immensely," I deadpan, though my chest tightens at how much he's still hiding. "Nothing better than watching my stubborn son pretend he doesn't need his old man's help."

"Old man," he mutters, but there's no real heat in it.

"You took some of the pain earlier, didn't you?"

I shrug, keeping my tone light. "Maybe. You were being dramatic — all that coughing and bleeding. Had to shut you up somehow."

Azren stares at me for a long moment, emotion swimming in his glassy eyes. "You shouldn't have."

"Too late," I reply easily. "Besides, what kind of father would I be if I let my son hog all the fun?"

He snorts softly, then winces again. The mischief fades for a second as real pain creeps back in, but he still manages, "Next time... I get to take yours. Fair trade."

"Deal," I say, though the thought of him ever having to do that twists something inside me. "Now stop talking so much. Save your energy for arguing with your mother when she brings that soup up."

Silence settles for a moment, comfortable in its own way. Then Azren shifts again, glancing towards the bathroom door, his ears flushing.

I notice immediately and raise a brow. "Need the bathroom?"

His ears turn a little redder. Even now, the proud streak runs deep. "...maybe."

I almost smile. "You're a grown-ass adult, son. You can say it."

He shoots me a tired glare that somehow still carries that boyish mischief. "I need the bathroom."

"There we go. Was that so hard?"

He tries to push himself upright on his own. Bad idea. His arms tremble instantly, and he sways, the little colour left in his face draining away.

I move forward at once, sliding a steady arm around his back. "Easy there, tough guy."

"I've got it," he mumbles stubbornly, though his hand tightens on my arm for support.

"You absolutely do not," I reply dryly. "But nice try. I give it a solid six out of ten for effort."

"You’re annoying," he grumbles, but he leans into me as we slowly make our way towards the bathroom. Each step is careful and slow. Halfway there, he ‘threatens’ me under his breath, "If you tell anyone about this, I'll make sure to have my revenge."

"You can try. I’m definitely broadcasting it—”

“Dad!”

I chuckle, pleased to know he’s gotten strong enough to try and yell at me.

We reach the bathroom, and I help him steady himself against the counter. "I'll step outside—"

"No," he says quickly, then looks mildly horrified at his own admission.

I raise a brow slowly, fighting another grin. "Still dizzy?"

"...yeah," he mutters, embarrassed.

"Alright," I say, softening. "I'll stay nearby. No dramatic rescues unless you ask for one.”

He rolls his eyes weakly. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Only because you're finally letting me help without biting my head off."

I help him with the rest as carefully as I can, keeping the teasing light while making sure he doesn't fall. The warm shower thereafter seems to ease some of the tension in his body.

When he finally steps out, cleaner and slightly steadier, I wrap a towel around his shoulders and help him into loose, soft clothes that won't irritate the runes.

By the time we make it back to the bed. My wife has somehow changed the sheets in record time.

He sinks into the pillows with a soft exhale, looking a little better.

He glances towards the door, his brow furrowing. "...Where's Noelle?"

The shift in his voice is immediate. I study him carefully. He’s in no condition to move. But I acknowledge the stubbornness that runs in our blood. He will go in search of her. But if I can make sure he recovers enough of that strength before that happens, I will feel much relieved.

So I lie through my teeth, knowing he’s probably going to hate me for it.

“She stepped out for a bit. Said she'd be back soon."

His jaw tightens faintly, mischief giving way to concern. "She shouldn't be out alone right now."

Even half-broken, his instincts are screaming. I rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"She'll be alright, son. And right now, you need to focus on resting so you can give her hell when she gets back, in that loving, overprotective way of yours."

He doesn't look fully convinced, but before he can argue, we both hear Dani’s footsteps on the stairs, accompanied by the faint, comforting aroma of her herbal soup.

I smirk. "Speaking of your mother... brace yourself. Soup incoming, and she's in full 'my baby needs feeding' mode."

Azren groans weakly, but there's a hint of that familiar spark in his eyes again. "Save me."

"Not a chance," I chuckle. "You're on your own with the extra love spoonfuls."

Just then, Aaron’s report comes through the mind link.

‘I found her. She’s speaking to Commander Finn at a café. She looks distressed.’