Chapter 54: Chapter 54: CAR TRIP

VALORIA WILDEROSE

I’ve been stuck in silence with him for hours.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t speak or utter a word to me now that he has the chance to make the last few hours before we arrive miserable for me.

Rather, he offers a silence that leaves me alone with my thoughts.

I count the minutes and seconds of every moment, knowing that as each goes by, I’m even closer to that place — my beginning and end.

I hold my breath and breathe again to calm my heart, fiddling with my fingers to distract myself from panicking, crying, or pissing myself in the car.

I do anything I can silently not to freak out, not to break down, not to think about that night, but it all fails miserably. The silence I craved instead is my prison.

How do I react when I see them? What do I say? Do I pretend like we’ve been close all our lives — like a real family?

Should I pretend that one of them didn’t try to kill me? Who was it that did it? What if it was a joint effort? What if they all wanted me dead? What if they try it again?

The questions spiral endlessly, each one sharper than the last, cutting deeper into my already fragile composure.

I roll down the window on my side, sticking my face out into the rippling wind.

Breathe, Valoria. Please, breathe.

The hyperventilating doesn’t stop — instead, it gets worse, and I’m gasping for air, trembling in my seat. Surely, they won’t try to kill me when I’m with Azrael.

They fear him more than they hate me. But can I actually rely on a psychotic bastard that also wants me dead?

They all want me dead… they all want to kill me. It doesn’t matter who does it in the end. Azrael won’t care. He’ll abandon me.

I’m all alone.

I’m going to die.

The familiar sting of tears pricks at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

“We’re almost there,” Azrael suddenly speaks for the first time in hours.

His deep voice, void of emotion, cuts right into the layers of thick tension like a blade — rescuing me from the confines of my mind.

I look at him finally, distracting myself with his position on the other end of the back seat — faced away, staring at the passing trees through his window, deep in thought as well.

It’s not just me thinking.

I find myself wondering why he hasn’t said anything, rather than being grateful for it — and that momentary distraction is enough for me to find my breath again.

My lungs begin to accept the very air they’ve been rejecting.

“T-That’s nice,” I drawl in small talk.

I know I didn’t want to talk to him… but I welcome it awkwardly, ashamed that I’m even grateful for it.

“Try not to be this unresponsive and dull when we arrive.” He speaks again — an annoying tease in his tone.

I frown. The gratitude turns to dust.

I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him — forced to go there, to where my life and hell had little difference; to pain and torment I’d hoped I’d never have to face again.

Why should I be grateful when it’s all his fault?

“Wh-what exa-actly is yo-your mission here? W-what do you ne-eed from t-them?”

I watch his light smile fade almost instantly. Teasing eyes look away from me again.

“Again, it’s nothing that concerns you.”

His cold response fuels the latent anger inside me, boiling over suddenly. He’s ruined so much for me for no reason.

He’s never needed one to be cruel and wicked — to put me through so much.

“D-Do I ha-ha-have to b-be here? I doub-bt that whatever it is y-you need from them, I’m n-ne-ecessary. You c-could have carried an-anyone else but m-m-me.”

“You’re here for the exact reason that you don’t want to be here.”

I scoff, folding my hands.

“O-of co-c-course.”

Cold silence follows — harsher and colder than the one that had existed previously between us.

Why did I bother with him? Having this conversation has only riled me up more, filled me with repressed anger and the overwhelming helpless feeling that I am merely a toy for him to play with — take anywhere and use until he’s done with me.

I hate it so much, and yet a part of me can’t deny that I’m not terrified anymore. Angry, furious, but not scared shitless.

Azrael is a monster — worse than the bogeyman himself. Anyone with common sense would be terrified of him. I am.

Parts of me cower just thinking of what he’s capable of — what he’d do to me if I fought back too much.

And yet…

Yet I only say the most when he’s next to me, riling me up.

My true thoughts and feelings spill out without a filter around him. He brings out the worst in me, but it’s more than anything that’s ever been brought out of my cold and desolate soul.

Which again makes him a mystery to me.

I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by people who wanted to hurt me. My father. My sisters. Ronan. They all wore masks of indifference or false kindness, hiding their cruelty beneath thin veneers of civility.

But Azrael doesn’t hide what he is. He wears his monstrosity like a crown, daring anyone to challenge him.

There’s something almost unsettling about that — knowing exactly what kind of beast you’re dealing with. No pretense. No false hope.

Just the raw, unfiltered truth of what he is.

I never thought I’d be sitting next to the mastermind behind the great Lycan war centuries ago — the one that forced us into servitude beneath their reign.

And if I did, there’d be questions I’d list out to ask.

Questions I never imagined I’d have the courage to voice. Questions that have plagued me since I learned the truth about who he really is and what he’s done.

But curiosity has always been my downfall.

“W-Why d-does the goddess re-really want to get rid of you?” I blurt out without much of a thought.

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