Chicago, U.S.
In the freezing nights of Chicago, it wasn't humans who ruled, it was the monsters who held power.
And tonight, Azrael Blackthorn had once again proven it-with the edge of his blade.
"You were nothing but a distraction."," he said coldly, as the blade slid halfway across the man's throat". "And now… I'm putting an end to its purpose. Because you are of no use to me."
With a voice as cold as ice, he finished his sentence, and then, in one clean motion, slit the man's throat completely.
Drops of blood splattered onto his clothes.
He brushed them off.. as if blood itself didn't dare to stain him.
Dressed entirely in white, from head to toe, he stood there-untainted in presence, despite the blood around him.
"Master," a bodyguard's low voice came from behind, "the Grand Master has summoned you."
"That old man with a tongue heavier than mud…" Azrael muttered in irritation.
Tossing the knife aside, he turned and strode toward the black Mercedes waiting behind him.
As he settled into the car, he removed his black gloves and placed them beside him before picking up his phone.
The driver started the engine, and the car moved forward into the night.
Minutes later, Azrael's car came to a halt before an abandoned mall—its empire long buried in silence and decay.
A well-mannered bodyguard standing outside stepped forward and opened the car door.
By then, Azrael had already slipped on another pair of black gloves.
His gaze swept over the men standing nearby-cold, indifferent-before he walked past them as if they didn't exist.
Dim lights flickered weakly overhead, barely holding back the suffocating silence that clung to the place like a graveyard. From outside, the only sound that echoed through the emptiness was the distant, haunting cries of white owls echoing through the night.
As he stepped onto the motionless escalator, his eyes drifted between the glowing screen of his phone and the silent steps beneath him.
"You called?"
Reaching the top floor, he slipped his phone into his pocket and spoke, his eyes settling on the middle-aged man standing before a large glass window, a wine glass resting in his hand.
"You're ten minutes late," the man said calmly, not even turning around.
"That's because I didn't come by helicopter," Azrael replied without hesitation.
Casier Blackthorn slowly turned to face him-his gaze sharp enough to cut.
"And this is how you speak to your father now?"
"That question itself is ridiculous," Azrael said coldly. "So stop wasting my time… and get to the point."
"Fine." Casier gave a small nod. "You'll be going to New York"
"Whose funeral am I attending?" Azrael asked.
"You're not attending a funeral," he replied. "You'll be keeping an eye on someone there… and you might even have to take care of them."
"Is that person human?" Azrael asked in a low voice.
A crooked smile formed on Casier's lips as he nodded.
"I hope you'll be able to control yourself."
"Before that, I'd like to know who that person is."
"Consider her… your sister."
"My sister's name is Isabella, Dad," Azrael said icily. "And if she's your illegitimate child… then I won't be taking care of her."
A faint pause.
"Then she won't live long enough for me to care."
Hearing Azrael's threat, Casier pointed toward the moon shining in the sky.
"Just like you're nothing but a pathetic piece of shit in front of that," he said coldly, "you're nothing in front of me."
Azrael let out a low, mocking laugh.
"So… you're planning to vacate the Grand Master's seat soon?"
Casier took a slow sip of his wine, throwing him a sideways glance before placing the glass down beside him.
"Let's see," he said calmly, "whether you're even fucking worthy of that seat."
With that, he unbuttoned his black coat and loosened his tie.
Azrael stood there silently, watching him.
And then
He disappeared.
Casier didn't panic.
Didn't rush.
He just stood there calmly.
The moment he sensed movement behind him, his hand shot up and the next second, his grip was around Azrael's throat.
"I told you," he said coldly, tightening his hold, "you don't fucking teach a father how to rule… or how to get fucked over."
He shoved him back and let go.
"You're nothing. You don't have the fucking worth to stand against me."
Azrael glared at him, fury burning in his eyes.
Casier ignored him, adjusting his coat but suddenly, a sharp wave of pain shot through his back.
His body stiffened.
His eyes glowed red.
His fangs extended instantly.
"What happened, Dad?" a low whisper brushed against his ear. "Does it fucking hurt?"
Casier tried to move but Azrael tightened his grip around the thin, glowing blue stone in his hand.
A strained scream escaped Casier's lips.
"The day I learned how to wipe out your enemies…" Azrael murmured near his ear, voice low and heated, "was the day I became worthy enough to take your fucking seat."
A soft, dangerous laugh left him as he suddenly let go.
Casier staggered back, his red eyes locking onto the blue stone in Azrael's hand.
Azrael noticed.
"What?" he tilted his head slightly, smirking. "Surprised how the fuck this ended up with me?"
"You… fucking traitor…" Casier tried to control the blood spilling from his mouth- but failed.
The weapon Azrael had used w,asn't letting his body recover.
"What happened, Dad?" Azrael mocked. "Does it hurt? Can't fucking heal yourself?"
"You've… betrayed me…" Casier's voice trembled.
Azrael raised a finger, shaking it slowly.
"That would've been wrong, if you were ever the right man." A smirk curled on his lips." Ah.. my mistake. Let me correct that… if you were the right fucking devil."
He flicked the blood off his knife, droplets splattering across the floor as he stepped closer.
"You're going to die slowly," Azrael said, crouching in front of him. "I coated it with Wisteria poison."
His gaze darkened." And you… forgot how the fuck to cure it."
"Recover?" Casier let out a faint laugh, licking the blood spilling from his lips. "You have no fucking idea about the rules of this seat."
"Then tell me before you die," Azrael said, picking up the wine bottle from the table. "Use your last breaths to teach your son… how the fuck to rule."
"Read the ancient books of devils…" Casier spoke with difficulty, his voice breaking. "You're walking straight into the depths of hell…"
"Looks like your brain's already gone to shit before dying," Azrael said, setting the bottle aside. "Maybe I should've stabbed you a little deeper."
He stepped forward but before he could reach him, the sharp sound of approaching footsteps echoed from behind.
Azrael turned.
Bodyguards were rushing in.
The moment they saw Casier-covered in blood-they froze, instantly on alert.
"What the fuck is wrong with you idiots?" Azrael said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "From today onwards… I'm your new Grand Master."
He placed the cigarette between his lips, flicked his lighter, and took a slow drag—exhaling the smoke into the air before looking at them again.
"Dump his body in the forest," he said coldly. "Make sure the animals tear him apart."
With that, Azrael stepped forward taking the exact place where Casier had been standing moments ago.
Tilting his head slightly, he looked up at the moon shining in the sky.
"I've sent your sinner back to you, Dad…" he murmured under his breath.
*****
CONTINUE SOON:- BOLLOSOM IN FORBIDDEN DESIRE