CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36: THE TRUTH BURIED INSIDE THAT VOICE.

The beast crashed to the ground,

It was on its knees, spine curved at an unnatural angle, body trembling violently under the unseen weight crushing it down. Blood poured freely from its nose, ears, and the corner of its mouth, dripping in dark rivulets onto the dirt. Its claws dug deep into the ground as it struggled to stay upright, but every muscle looked like it was being pulled apart thread by thread.

Azrael stood over it like a shadow given flesh. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, but his expression was calm, terrifyingly calm. His eyes gleamed, one red, one blue, flickering as if two beasts fought for dominance behind them. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and with each twitch, the creature on its knees convulsed harder, coughing up more blood.

The air itself had grown heavier, suffocating. The kind of pressure that made the world seem smaller, tighter, until all that existed was the predator and the prey.

The beast tried to snarl, but it came out as a puppy cry. Its head jerked, body twitching like a puppet whose strings had been tangled by a cruel hand. Its eyes rolled back leaving just the white, veins bulging against its skin as if trying to burst. The agony painted across its twisted features was beyond animal, this was the look of something that realized it was dying from the inside out.

Azrael tilted his head, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Pathetic," he rasped under his breath, voice low, vibrating with barely leashed hunger. His aura flared darker, colder, pressing down harder until even Theo felt his chest constrict.

Theo cursed, wiping blood from his cheek.

Why does it looked like he has so much blood.

He stepped forward anyway. "Az, that’s enough." His voice was sharp, commanding, but Azrael didn’t move. Didn’t blink. The beast let out a strangled howl as blood gushed from its mouth, splattering the ground.

Theo swore under his breath and shoved forward, planting a hand against Azrael’s chest. "I said that’s fucking enough!"

Azrael’s head snapped toward him instantly.

The look that hit Theo froze him in place. Red and blue eyes locked onto him, swirling with madness and control. The weight behind those glare wasn’t human, it was raw, the promise of violence. For the first time in a long time, Theo was reminded of something he’d nearly forgotten.

Never steal a prey from a predator.

His hand dropped from Azrael’s chest immediately, fingers curling into a fist at his side. The pressure was still there, suffocating, but Theo refused to let his voice waver.

"Fine," he muttered, smirking despite the chill crawling up his spine. "But if you kill him, you’re not proving you’re stronger, you’re proving you’ve lost control. And that’s not you, Azrael. That’s not the bastard I know."

Azrael’s nostrils flared, his jaw tight, but the beast on its knees twitched again, coughing blood, barely alive.

Theo stepped closer, his voice dropping into something darker, sharper. "Look at him. He’s already broken. If you finish it, what does it give you? Nothing. You don’t kill for free, Az. You let him live, you let him remember. That’s who you are. The monster they see and fear every time they close their eyes."

The air hung heavy with the sound of the beast choking, Azrael’s ragged breathing, and Theo’s words slicing through the madness. For the first time, Azrael’s fingers stilled at his sides.

Theo smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed locked on Azrael’s. "So go ahead, make the choice. Kill him and waste it or let him crawl away and make him wish he never fucking crossed you."

The beast whimpered, collapsing fully on the ground, twitching under Azrael’s invisible grip. And still, Azrael hadn’t moved, just stood there, every vein in his body pulsing with the urge to end it.

But he let go instead.

Blood gushed from its mouth and ears as his wolf shape began to melt away, bones cracking back into human form. The claws shrank, fur peeled back into pale skin. What was left was no predator, just a man lying there naked, his chest heaving in jagged gasps, every breath felt like he was fighting a battle with himself.

His face was twisted, streaked with blood and humiliation. He tried to push himself up on trembling arms, but his strength was gone. His body collapsed again, cheek pressing into the dirt as he wheezed like a broken animal.

Azrael didn’t even glance at him. His form rippled instead, edges of his body blurring as water beaded across his skin. One heartbeat, he was standing there, terrifying, untouchable. The next, he was dissolving into a cascading stream, his entire form collapsing into liquid and vanishing into the air.

Just like that, he was gone.

Theo stood there, hands on his hips, muttering a low, vicious, "Fuckin’ show-off," under his breath. Unlike Azrael, he didn’t get the luxury of disappearing into mist.

With a roll of his shoulders, he stalked toward the broken man still struggling to breathe. Theo crouched down, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked his head back so their eyes met. The man groaned, blood slipping from his lips, but Theo’s smirk was sharp and cruel.

"Look at you," Theo said, his voice low, mocking, laced with venom. "You thought you were a beast, huh? Now you’re just a sorry fuck crawling in your own blood. Don’t ever cross us again or next time, you won’t get the luxury of breathing."

He shoved the man’s head down hard, the skull cracking against the pavement with a brutal thud. The man let out a guttural groan, eyes rolling back as he slumped sideways, barely conscious.

Theo straightened up, wiping his hands like he’d touched something filthy. "Pathetic," he spat, before turning his back without another glance.

He slid into his car, slammed the door, and the engine roared to life. Tires screeched against the pavement as he drove off into the night, no trace of laughter now, only the simmering edge of violence still buzzing in his chest.

Unlike Azrael, Theo couldn’t vanish. He left the scene the old-fashioned way, burning rubber and disappearing into the dark streets.

The silence of his room shattered with the ripple of water forming. Azrael’s body took shape, first liquid, then solid, until he stood there barefoot, chest bare and rising hard, droplets sliding down his skin.

The water didn’t settle. It hung in the air around him, forming blades, like soldiers waiting for a command. Each one gleamed under the faint light, their edges sharp enough to cut through bone. They circled him slowly, faithfully, like wolves on a leash ready to be unleashed the moment he let go.

Azrael’s aura was thick, pressing into the walls, suffocating the air itself. He stood still, shoulders tense, eyes lowered. He didn’t have to say a word, the room already knew it was holding its breath for him.

And then...

"You are mine."

The voice cracked through his skull, venom laced with command. His father’s voice. Cold. Deadly. The kind of authority that drilled obedience into your bones, not respect.

Azrael’s fingers twitched. The water blades trembled in response, but they did not turn on him. They were waiting. Waiting for him to give in.

"You can run from the world, but not from me. You carry my blood. My shadow. My curse."

His jaw tightened until his teeth hurt. The blades spun faster, slicing through the air with a hiss, echoing the sharpness of that voice. The pressure thickened, every inhale like drowning.

"Power isn’t mercy. Power is dominance. Mercy is weakness. Do you hear me, boy?"

The word boy hit like a strike across his chest. Azrael’s lips curled back into a snarl, a low sound rumbling out of him. His wolf was too close, clawing at the surface, begging to break free.

The worst part? His power wanted it. The blades leaned forward, every drop in the room quivering, listening, desperate to taste blood.

He was so tempted to go back and end that fucking beast and satisfy his fucking soul.

Azrael’s eyes burned. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. His beast was there, watching through his gaze, pressing hard against his restraint. His hands curled into fists at his sides, veins sharp against his skin.

"Shut up," he hissed, voice raw. But the echo didn’t stop.

"You are me. You’ll never be anything else."

The words were poison, twisting deep, dragging old chains tight around his chest. His breath came out ragged, a groan rumbling from his throat, half-man, half-beast, like the sound of something cracking.

The blades surged closer, almost trembling with hunger, their points fixed outward. Not at him. At the world. His wolf wanted out, his power wanted release, and the authority of his father’s voice was dragging him closer and closer to the edge.

Azrael tilted his head back slowly, strands of wet hair falling into his face, his crimson-blue eyes glowing in the dim light. His aura pressed harder, filling every corner of the room until it felt like the walls themselves might split.

And through it all, the words stayed. His father’s voice, merciless and venomous, hunting him in his own skin.

What Azrael hated most wasn’t outside. It wasn’t the beast. It wasn’t the blades waiting to tear through flesh.

It was the truth buried inside that voice.