Chapter 223 HOLD IT DOWN.

Chapter 223 HOLD IT DOWN.


AXEL’S POV:

I didn’t think life could ever feel this whole again. Life finally made sense again. It was just… peace. Familiar. Safe.

“Sweetness, what’s wrong? You haven’t touched your food yet,” my mother said, her voice the soft lullaby I remembered from boyhood. She reached across the table and smoothed back a strand of my hair with motherly affection. Just the way she used to when I was a boy—like I was still her little miracle.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she said with a warm smile, her hand cupping my cheek briefly before she settled back in her seat.

“Don’t you like it, son?” my father added, slicing a portion of his salmon and placing it on my plate with his usual charm. “Your mother used the same marinade I taught her back in '93. Best damn recipe we ever made.”

I smiled. Really smiled. Because it felt like I was home again. Like the past—every bit of blood, betrayal, and pain—was just a nightmare I’d woken up from.

This… this was the dream worth living in.

“Don’t think too much,” he said, grinning like it was a private joke. “Today’s a big day, son. First day sitting in the chair. Your chair now.”

My chest swelled. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He reached over and patted my shoulder with pride. “You earned this, Axel. It’s all yours now.”

As I stood, they both came around the table like I was leaving for kindergarten again. My mother fixed my collar with careful fingers. My father smoothed the front of my jacket.

I kissed both of their cheeks. My father clapped me on the back, pride in his eyes. Before I could step out, they wrapped me in a hug that still smelled like safety and home.

“I’ll handle things at the office today,” I told them, straightening my cuffs. “You two relax. Maybe go dancing tonight.”

They chuckled. My mother kissed my forehead like I was still her baby boy. “Be careful, Axel. Go get ‘em, baby."

“We’ll be waiting,” Dad added, clapping my back.

I waved as I left, my chest full of joy.

And just like that, I left, carrying the love of two people who never stopped seeing me as their prince—even now.

The drive to the company was peaceful. Blue skies. Windows down. Jazz on the radio. I even stopped to get flowers for Mom—just because.

But the second I turned the corner to the building that was supposed to be my father’s empire, my stomach flipped.

Ashes.

Smoke still curled from the ground like the building had taken its last breath only moments ago. The charred skeleton of my father’s legacy stood in ruins—blackened steel, fallen glass, nothing left to salvage.

“What the hell happened here?” I asked one of the officers.

“Sir… we tried to reach you,” the man said quickly. “But your phone was off. Some kind of electrical fire. It moved fast. Nobody could stop it. The whole place… it’s gone.”

I stared. But strangely, I didn’t feel grief. Just numb. Detached.

It didn’t matter. We could rebuild.

I just wanted to go back home. I needed to see my parents. Feel the warmth. Feel that it was still real. To hear their voices. To remind myself this day didn’t take everything.

I turned back, barely listening to the officer’s next words, already sliding into my car. I turned the radio up, let the beat fill the space as I drove. The fire hadn’t touched the best parts of my life. Not the part that waited for me back home. My fingers tapped against the wheel in rhythm, and I hummed along to the song like nothing had happened.

I drove back faster than I should’ve, the flowers still on the passenger seat. Roses for Mom. Pink—her favorite. I could already hear her delighted gasp, could see my father’s amused smile as she smelled them like it was the first bouquet she’d ever received.

Getting home, my heart felt light despite everything. But the front door was open.

Unlocked.

Strange.

My parents were always waiting at the door, always. I stepped in, balancing the flowers as I called out, “Mom? Dad?”

No answer.

The living room was untouched. Still cozy. Still ours. But it was quiet. Too quiet.

I moved through the house, calling their names again, now more urgently. The silence started to wrap around my chest like cold fingers.

My footsteps carried me up the stairs. I reached their bedroom door. Knocked.

“Mom?”

Still nothing.

I pushed the door open gently.

And the flowers dropped from my hand.

They were lying there—side by side, hands barely touching, just like they always slept. But this time, their bodies were soaked in red. Their nightclothes clung to their skin in sticky patches. Blood had pooled beneath them, and the smell hit me a second later. Both were covered in stab wounds.

“No. No, no, no.”

I stumbled to them, crashing to my knees beside the bed. My hands shook as I touched them—Mom’s face was cold. Dad’s eyes were half open, glassy. I screamed their names, jerking their bodies like shaking them awake could bring them back.

“Wake up! Please—wake up!”

My throat burned. My vision blurred. I pressed my face against my mother's chest, hoping for a heartbeat, a breath, anything.

Then… I felt it.

A presence.

I turned.

There, in the corner of the room, half-bathed in the shadows—stood a girl. Young. Pretty. Expression serene. Except for the smile.

A smirk.

“I did it, Axel,” she said calmly, her voice smooth and cruel. “I killed them. I stabbed them over and over.”

I blinked. I didn’t understand.

She stepped forward, blood spattered across her dress like it was part of the design. “And I felt… nothing.”

I stared at her, broken, choking on my own disbelief.

“Why?” I rasped. “Why would you do this to my parents? They were good people. They loved everyone.”

She tilted her head slightly, like a doll trying to understand human emotion.

“I thought I’d feel something. Guilt. Fear. Anything. But there was nothing inside me. Just… silence.”

And then she smiled wider.

And that was the moment I realized—I had just lost everything.

The silence after her words was deafening.

Her smile stayed. Frozen. Mocking.

And somewhere in the hollowness of my mind, a voice slithered in.

"Do it, Axel.”

It didn’t sound like me. But it knew me.

“She ended them. End her.”

I took a shaky step back, but the voice followed, curling tighter around my ribs.

“They were your parents. They loved you. You saw what she did. An animal doesn’t deserve mercy.”

My hands trembled. My breath turned frantic.

She tilted her head, as if waiting. As if wanting me to act.

But I wasn’t a murderer.

I wasn’t

With every ounce of sanity I could still scrape together, I pulled my phone from my pocket. My thumb hovered above the emergency call button.

“I’ll call the police,” I muttered. “You’ll pay for this. The right way.”

The moment the words left my mouth—

Darkness.

The room vanished.

I blinked, heart in my throat.

Suddenly I was sitting in a dark room. A single wooden chair beneath me. A static hum in the background.

Solemn piano music drifted in like something from an old war film. A TV in front of me flickered to life without warning, the cold light washing over the gray walls.

On the screen—

Her.

The same girl.

Covered in someone else’s blood, her mouth stretched into a grin too wide for her face. Her hands gripped a man’s severed head. And though distorted, I recognized the face.

She danced around his corpse like a child playing dress-up. And she laughed. Manically. Beautifully. Terrifyingly.

The scene changed.

Flames burst across the screen—the building. Our company. Burning. Just like I’d seen hours ago.

"She did it all,” the voice whispered again, softer now, almost soothing.

"Every bit of pain. Every piece of destruction. She left nothing but ash for you.”

I stood from the chair, breathing hard. The music twisted, souring into a tune that sounded like bones snapping under a piano key.

I turned—she was there.

Standing in the same room with me. Dressed in white, face gentle, expression unreadable. Like she hadn’t just been on the screen moments ago tearing someone apart.

She stepped closer. Her eyes locked with mine.

And then—

She leaned in.

For a kiss.

Her lips brushed mine like a curse being sealed.

My body went rigid. My brain screamed.

No.

I shoved her with all the strength I had. “What the hell are you?!”

She didn’t answer.

Her skin began to ripple.

Bones cracked beneath flesh.

Her limbs stretched, joints bending at unnatural angles.

And then she changed.

From a girl… to something out of a nightmare.

A demon.

Her eyes turned coal-black, her mouth elongated, teeth jagged. Blood dripped from her fingers, staining the floor in long red trails. Her voice no longer human, but layered with echoes—male, female, child—all at once.

I staggered back.

"Kill her, Axel.”

The voice returned, this time a whisper in both ears. “Kill her before she kills again. You’re doing the world a favor.”

And I moved.

I don’t remember deciding. My feet simply obeyed.

I walked toward her.

Slow.

"Yes,” the voice urged, velvet-smooth. “She has no soul. Just silence. Give her your fire.”

I was just a few steps away. My hands clenched. My mind blank except for one terrible word: end.

And then—

Something slammed into me.

A force—unseen, powerful—hurled me to the side. I crashed to the floor, skidding against the wooden boards.

Gasping.

I looked up. Disoriented.

The demon girl stood still, unblinking.

The voice was silent.

The music stopped.

The TV blinked off.

All that was left was my ragged breathing and the terrible echo of what almost happened.

The world around me pulsed, like it was peeling apart.

What was real?

Where was I?

And why was that voice tormenting me.