Chapter 66: Chapter 66: CORPSES AND COWARDS

VALORIA WILDEROSE

“You want to know what I think is pathetic?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “That you’ve spent your entire life apologizing for crimes you didn’t commit. Your mother made her choices. Your father made his. And those spineless sisters of yours? They’re too cowardly to direct their rage where it belongs, so they use you as their punching bag.”

He steps closer, invading my space with predatory intent.

“But you? You’re even worse than them. At least they’re honest about being vicious cunts. You? You’ve convinced yourself that your suffering is survival—that if you just take enough beatings, bow low enough, bleed quietly enough, they’ll finally see you as one of them.” His laugh is cold, cutting. “Newsflash, little mouse—they never will. And the sickest part is that you already know that. You’ve always known it.”

His hand shoots out, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Your mother’s dead. Your father’s a sadistic bastard who takes his failures out on a child. Your sisters are parasites feeding off your misery to feel better about their own pathetic existences. These are facts. Unchangeable ones.” He releases me roughly. “So the only question that matters is: how much longer are you going to let corpses and cowards dictate whether you deserve to fucking breathe?”

I shake my head, frustration bubbling up again.

“It’s not that easy, Azrael. They don’t back down—even when I fight back, even when I’m bold. No one helps me. Not the council, not the maids, not anyone. They all look the other way because my family has power and I have nothing.”

My voice breaks despite my best efforts. “You think standing up to them changes anything? It only makes it worse.”

A ruthless grin spreads across his face, slow and wicked.

“But that was before.” He leans in, voice dropping to something dark and promising. “Have you forgotten my flavor of fun so soon? I’d be spilling their blood all over the ugly furniture in your family home if I didn’t think you’d spend weeks sobbing and glaring at me for it.”

His eyes gleam with barely contained violence.

“But I can’t stand idly by for too long, Valoria. I’ve seen you show more grit than you’d ever give yourself credit for.” He straightens, rolling his shoulders like a predator preparing to hunt. “I’ll be forced to invite the Wilderose family into my playhouse if you disappoint me one more time.”

“You’re insane,” I mutter, though a small smile slips onto my lips far too easily.

“I know.” His smile returns, light and playful, easing the tension between us just like that. Then he yawns—dramatically. “Are you done crying now? I was getting uncomfortable watching you cry like a girl.”

I raise a brow. “I am a girl.”

“Could’ve fooled me with all that crying. I thought girls were supposed to be delicate and graceful—you looked like a wet dog having a breakdown.”

A reflexive gasp escapes me and my hand flies out, shoving him before I can stop myself.

The second I do it, I pale. My hand freezes mid-air as the reality crashes down on me like ice water.

I just shoved the Lycan King. The ruthless, bloodthirsty king who kills people for sport.

“I—I didn’t mean—” My voice comes out strangled, my body going rigid as I wait for his retaliation, for the violence I know he’s capable of.

Instead, what I get is an easy shove that sends me straight into the low fountain.

I fall backwards into the pool of water, fully submerging before I sit upright and catch my breath again, squeezing the water out of my eyes.

“Hey!” I scream at him with newfound anger.

He bursts into laughter, clutching his belly and trembling with it—light, soothing chuckles like the peaceful sounds of nature. Obnoxiously sweet and perfect.

“You hit like a girl too,” he teases.

Something reckless flares in me—maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s because he didn’t kill me for shoving him—but I reach out amidst his distraction and grab hold of his foot, pulling hard enough that he tips over and right into the pool, falling butt-first beside me.

The second he hits the water, panic floods through me again.

What did I just do?

But then I see his expression—shock painted across his face—and something breaks loose in my chest. Laughter. Real, uncontrollable laughter that I can’t stop even if I wanted to.

It’s my turn to cackle at his expense, the sound foreign to my own ears.

“You fall like a girl,” I gasp out between fits of laughter, hardly believing the words came from my mouth.

I don’t stop laughing. I rise to my feet, and he follows, drenched in water as I am, trying his very best to hide the smile that desperately wants to break through.

The absurdity of it all—him soaking wet, me still alive after pulling a king into a fountain—keeps the giggles bubbling out of me.

My sides ache, my chest feels impossibly light, like something caged inside me has finally been let loose.

I wipe at my eyes, still grinning, when I realize Azrael has gone quiet. When I open my eyes again, he’s suddenly so close, leaning into me.

His eyes are fixated on mine, then fall to my lips before he leans closer.

I panic at this new sensation pounding in my heart and dodge him before his lips can make contact with mine, avoiding his kiss.

He freezes—caught in the act and in my rejection.

“I…” I try to say something, but my words fail me now, of all times.

Something sour twists in my chest.

He’s going to be angry now, furious that he tried and I refused him. I know it. Not that I should care or be bothered by his mood swings… but still.

I try to speak again, but he looks up at me suddenly. Instead of a scowl, he’s… smiling.

And then he takes a step back, shaking as much water off himself as he can before turning toward the edge of the fountain.

“Where are you going?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, sudden anxiety flooding through me for reasons I can’t explain.

“Back to your sister. To take her up on that offer.” He looks back at me, smiling from ear to ear.

My gut suddenly sinks.

I know it’s a joke. I know he’s messing with me—everything in his smile says it—but something hot stirs in my gut, flaring uncontrollably.

Twisting and tightening until my reasoning slips away and my laugh dies.

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