Chapter 201 My Angel | 094

Chapter 201 My Angel | 094
AZREN

The car is a fucking tomb on wheels. This silence bites at me. It crawls under my skin, settling there.

Dad's driving. One of his hands is locked tight on the wheel like it's the only thing keeping the universe from spinning off its axis. The other just... rests there on the console. Almost like it doesn't know what the hell to do if it's not wrapped around a weapon.

I watch it. That hand. The same one that's dragged me out of alleys, stitched me up in motel bathrooms, and held me together when the spirits in my head tried to tear me apart. Even when I resented him for it.

I reach out before I can stop myself. My fingers slide between his warm ones.

He goes still only for a moment.

Then his palm flips and grips mine like I'm the last solid thing in a collapsing world.

Neither of us speaks at first.

We don't have to.

"You scared the shit out of me, kid," Dad eventually says.

His voice is rough and strained, stripped off every wall. His emotions are all bare to me.

I swallow hard.

"I know."

His fingers tighten until the bones in my hand ache.

"No," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "You don't. Not really."

I glance sideways. His eyes stay glued to the road, but his jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.

"I've watched you bleed before," he continues. "I've seen you fight things that should've turned you to ash. Break bones. Walk out of hell laughing like it was a goddamn joke. But that?"

He winces.

"You lying there. Coughing up blood. Barely breathing. Your eyes glassy, like you were already halfway gone..."

The silence that follows is worse than the quiet before. It stings.

"That wasn't something I could fight, Azren. That wasn't something I could punch or burn or tear apart. I just had to watch."

Fuck.

I look down at our joined hands, and my throat suddenly feels too tight.

"...I didn't want to call you or Mum," I whisper weakly. "I knew you'd worry. I knew it'd rip you apart."

He laughs, the sounds as bitter as black coffee.

"Yeah. Because that's the worst thing that could've happened there."

I huff. "Fair point.”

There's another moment of that heavy, aching silence.

"You should've called us sooner," he whispers.

Tears jab at my eyes, and I hate it, but I let them sit there anyway.

"...I know."

The car slows down and stops at the side of some nowhere road.

He finally turns to look at me.

And fuck… I've seen my father angry. I've seen him ruthless and unstoppable, a storm wrapped in human skin. But this shattered fear in his eyes wrecks me even worse.

"You don't carry shit like that alone," he says, his voice firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like I'm still that scared kid he used to rock back to sleep after the nightmares. "Not while I'm breathing. Or ever. You hear me?"

I nod, swallowing the lump that feels like my whole heart.

"...okay."

He squeezes again, harder. Then that faint smirk ghosts across his face, the one that always means he's trying to stitch us both back together with dark humour.

"Besides," he adds, his voice rough with affection, "you're still too goddamn young to be dying on me. I've got plans to annoy the hell out of you for at least another fifty years. Maybe sixty if you behave."

I snort, the sound cracking into something halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Only fifty?"

"Let's not get unrealistic, kid."

It helps. More than I want to admit. The ache eases just a little, and I squeeze his hand back.

"...thanks, Dad."

His expression softens.

"Always, son."

...

We step out together.

The night air hits like a blade, humming with something unnatural that makes the demon in my veins sit up and purr. The Corps facility looms ahead, looking irritatingly sterile.

Dad glances at me, his eyes hard with that familiar protective fire.

"Ready?"

I nod, my grin splitting wide. "Let's go ruin their fucking night."

A flash of dark pride crosses his face.

We clasp hands again, this time with purpose. Power surges between us, two storms syncing into one cataclysm.

Then the air tears.

A rift rips open in front of us, shadows folding inward like hungry mouths, and it swallows us whole.

In a fraction of a second, we're inside the facility.

The corridor is a sterile nightmare.

Dim lights buzz overhead like dying insects. Floors so clean they scream, 'We hide the ugly here.'

Every step echoes too loud in my skull.

We move like synced predators. Then we hear footsteps. A guard rounds the corner, and his eyes go wide at the sight of us.

Dad clamps a hand over the man's mouth and drags him back into the dark. With a brutal twist, the body drops limp.

Dad lowers him gently to the floor. Hmm...

Something tells me that has a lot to do with mum.

At the end of the hall, there's a reinforced door as heavy as a coffin lid.

I already feel it in my bones. This is it. The room built to unmake me.

Dad shoves it open with ruthless energy. It really looks like an execution room.

And there it is. The chair.

My stomach plummets like I've been thrown off a cliff. It's worse than I thought. Metal restraints lined with jagged needles that look like teeth. Tubing coiled like parasitic veins waiting to suck me dry. Runes carved deep into the frame, pulsing.

It's clearly built to drain every drop of power, every scream, and every last heartbeat while keeping my body alive to suffer longer.

A bitter, unhinged laugh rips out of me, the demon in my blood loving the horror of it.

"...they really went all out, huh? Custom torture porn just for little old me. I'm flattered."

Dad's face turns to stone.

"We're taking this abomination apart," he says.

I shake my head, still grinning. "Might trigger the failsafes and trap us. Or worse, wake up the whole hive."

He looks at me, his eyes burning. "Got a better idea?"

I exhale slowly.

"...yeah. I do."

I step forward, staring at the chair.

"Ward it first."

His brow lifts. "With what?"

I glance at him and slice my palm open with a dash of my claws. Blood wells up right away.

"Us."

A slow, savage grin spreads across his face, mirroring mine.

"Now you're thinking like a Lakewood."

He slices his own palm. Our blood drips in perfect sync, then we press our hands together.

Power ripples outward like a hurricane.

We drop to our knees beside the chair, pressing our mixed blood into the cold floor as I channel everything outward, pouring it into the ward.

It blooms, creating a cage of our own making.

Nothing comes in.

Dad exhales, his shoulders easing a fraction. "Good."

Then he stands, moving to destroy the chair.

Wires ripped out like tendons. Power cores crushed under his boot with wet, satisfying crunches. Sparks fly like fireworks for the damned. Metal screams and groans and bends.

I turn to the runes.

They glow as I approach, recognizing me. It is as though they hunger for me.

I tilt my head.

"...let's see how you like it when your meal bites back, you pathetic little carvings."

I let the demon energy slip out, seeping into the runes like ink into paper.

They scream, rearing back.

It's a sound only I can hear. Dad doesn't even notice as he keeps ripping wires.

It suddenly feels as though they’re sucking out my strength. A wave of dizziness rattles me. It’s overwhelming.

Gritting my teeth and trying not to alert my dad, I force more power.

Then the runes crack and dry up, fading from the metal.

I step back, my chest heaving. "Done. Fragile little bitch, wasn't it?"

Dad surveys the wreckage, satisfaction carved deep into every line of his face. "For something built to kill my son... it folded pretty easy."

"Don't insult it," I mutter, still riding the high of destruction. "It might start crying."

He lets out a laugh.

Right then, we hear footsteps.

We both move instantly, pressing ourselves into the shadows just as the door slams open.

Vesper.

Of course.

He strides in, arrogantly. Then he stops dead. His eyes lock on the ruined chair. The smoking ruin of his perfect little execution machine.

"What the hell—"

He lunges forward and slams face-first into the ward.

The barrier flares, brilliant and vicious. He stumbles back, his eyes blazing with pure, unfiltered panic.

"No. No, no, NO—!"

His composure shatters beautifully.

He paces like a caged wolf, furious, scanning every shadow and every corner, realizing too late that his prey has teeth now.

I lean deeper into the dark, my pulse thrumming with dark delight. I glance at Dad.

'...you know,' I murmur into his head, my voice dripping with an unhinged glee, 'maybe we shouldn't have touched it at all.'

'Oh?'

My smirk is pure venom. 'Yeah. We should've just dragged the ugly bastard in here...'

Dad's shoulders shake with silent laughter.

'...and made him sit on it. Strapped in tight. Let him feel every needle and every rune light up just for him.'

His mental voice rolls back, rich with dark satisfaction. 'Now that... would've been poetic.'

"Come out here! I know you're still here!" Vesper roars, and I smirk.

Well, he asked for me.

In the blink of an eye, I'm standing right behind him.

"Surprise?" I whisper, and he freezes.