Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
GHOSTS OF THE PAST
Azariel
“You were never safe, but you were always mine.” – A
T he atmosphere had a melancholic feeling to it tonight while the air was thick with the smell of roses. Their red petals moved in the breeze like something out of a beautiful nightmare.
Valentine’s Day has never meant anything to me. No holiday ever had. They’re all just reminders of the fragile things I never let myself believe in. But tonight—this holiday felt darker than usual. My mother’s rose garden was full of shadows, the heavy branches reaching upward like they wanted to claw the sky and rip it half. There were barely any stars, and the clouds were dark, heavy with rain.
It was as if the weather was in sync with my emotions.
I stood in the middle of the garden, staring at the torn pieces of the Valentine’s card scattered on the ground. Poe’s handwriting—so sweet—was now nothing but scraps, scattered like funeral confetti. I had ripped her card into shreds right in front of her.
I’m a bastard.
A cold-hearted one.
“She’s too good,” I thought, clenching my fists. “She’s better than me. She deserves better.”
My chest burned, but I forced the feeling down. I had hurt her. I knew it. I hurt her sweet heart. But I needed her to stay away. I was broken—my sharp edges would only cut her if she got too close. I couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
The kind-hearted always ended up hurt because of me. Always.
Yeah, I was broken.
But the truth? I wasn’t just broken. I was worse.
I’d done things. Things I never told anyone. Things I couldn’t take back. If Poe Nicolasi ever knew—if she ever saw even a glimpse of what I’ve done—it would haunt her. It would ruin the way she saw the world. A sweet little thing like her would have nightmares for the rest of her life.
I wasn’t worthy of standing next to her—let alone being her friend. No one deserved that from me. I’m forsaken. Born that way, and I’ll leave this world the same. That’s what I deserve.
The wind picked up, carrying pieces of the card across the garden. I knew she was gone. I remembered the look on her face—so pale, her pink lips trembling—before she turned and walked away, tears in her pretty emerald eyes.
Good, I told myself. She should leave. It’s for the best.
But still... something gnawed at me. A tightness in my chest, an ache I couldn’t explain. I was supposed to be numb. I was supposed to feel nothing.
But when I could no longer hear her soft footsteps, something twisted inside me—sharp, cold, and lethal.
The pain was too intense.
What’s happening to me?
I looked at the ground, trying to focus on anything other than the ache in my chest. That’s when I noticed a few pieces of the card still stuck in the grass. Frowning, I knelt and began picking them up. My hands were stiff, shaking slightly. I shoved the scraps into my pocket.
I couldn’t let her words slip away. I just couldn’t.
The thought made the pain in my chest even worse.
The wind howled through the garden, making the roses shiver. I looked up at the moon—and it was like staring into a mirror. Distant and cold. Just like me.
And then I saw her.
My mom. Kadra.
She stepped out of the shadows like a ghost, her face lit by moonlight. Still beautiful, even with that familiar anger in her eyes. She was grumpy like me—but she was always there. Always loving.
She didn’t say a word as she knelt beside me, not caring that she would dirty her pretty black dress. Her warm fingers brushed against mine, helping me collect the last of Poe’s card. She didn’t ask why it was in pieces. She didn’t need to. She just knew.
I was thankful for that.
I’m always thankful for her.
I always will be.
For a while, we said nothing. Only the sound of crinkling paper and the wind between us.
Then, finally, her voice broke the silence—soft but strong and full of love.
“My beautiful sun,” she said, placing her gloved hand gently on my face, turning me toward her. “You are worthy of love and friendship. You are worthy of all the beautiful things life has to offer. You are worthy of all of it and more.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to say something bitter. But her words stopped me cold.
How could she believe that?
I was a mistake. Just a number. A monster in borrowed skin.
But when I looked into her eyes—those lovely, liquid gold eyes—I saw something real. She meant it. Every word.
My throat tightened.
“No. I don’t,” I muttered. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her... and I don’t deserve you.”
There. I said it.
She shook her head slowly, her long black hair blowing in the wind. She wiped away a tear from my cheek—one I hadn’t even noticed.
I cried?
I don’t remember the last time I cried.
“You do deserve sweetness,” she said gently. “And you sure as hell deserve me, my love. I know it. Your father knows it. Your aunts and uncles know it. You just have to believe it.”
Believe?
How do I do that?
I haven’t believed in anything good. Not ever.
Until her.
Until Mom found me.
And still, some things are too far out of reach.
Some dreams just weren’t meant to be dreamt by someone like me.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the emotion rising in my chest.
Even with the life she leads and the things she’s done, Mom is still good. Too good.
And me? I’m too dark. Too stained.
Full of things that rot people from the inside out.
I couldn’t let that touch them.
When the silence stretched too long, she sighed.
“Come on, Azariel,” she said, standing and offering her hand. “Let’s go inside before you get sick. It’s too cold out here.”
I stared at her gloved hand for a long moment, then finally took it.
I would always take it.
Even if I didn’t deserve it.
She saved me.
And I’m grateful.
We walked back to the house in silence. My mind was still a fucked-up mess. But one thing stayed clear.
She loved me.
Not by blood, but by heart.
And that—more than anything—hurt.
Because I didn’t know how to love her back.
Not the way she deserved.
But maybe, just maybe, I could be worthy of that love one day.
Later that night, I sat in my room while we quietly glued Poe’s card back together.
Mom didn’t say another word. She didn’t have to.
I felt it.
I felt her love and support in every movement.
When we finished, she kissed me goodnight and tucked me in like I was a little boy, before quietly leaving the room.
All I could think about before I drifted to sleep was Poe’s pretty face with those sad eyes.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot.
I dreamt of her that night and every night that followed.
If only she knew… That card with her sweet words is still the most valuable thing I own.
Later on…
So was her love.
The moonlight poured into the room in a steady stream, casting long shadows across the floor like fingers reaching through the dark. I stood by the window, staring out over the grounds of Blackthorn Manor, still thinking about blue hair and curious emerald eyes.
I had followed her in silence. Poe didn’t know I was there—didn’t see me watching as she wandered the quiet halls, trailing her fingers along the spines of old books in the library, pausing to study portraits that hadn’t moved in decades. She looked beautiful.
Like she’d always belonged.
There was something almost lyrical about the way she moved through my home. Unafraid. Wide-eyed. As if she saw something worth loving in all the shadows. And in some strange way, it gave me hope—hope that she might see me the same way. Not as someone who vanished into the dark, but someone worth finding there.
The moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting soft silver across the cold stone floor. I stood at the glass, looking down at the rose garden. The petals gleamed, still wet from the storm. The air outside held that charged silence that always comes after rain.
My hand moved on its own. I slipped my phone from my coat pocket and found her name.
I didn’t call her often. Not this late. But sometimes the past keeps her up too—just like it does me.
I pressed the screen and lifted the phone to my ear. It rang once.
“Azariel,” my mother answered, her voice low and scratchy but clear. There was always an edge to it, even with her children. “Ghosts again?”
How does she always know?
“I could ask you the same,” I murmured, eyes still on the shifting shadows in the garden.
A pause.
“Some nights, yes.”
We never talked about them—our ghosts—but we didn’t need to. Hers were older. Sharper. But I knew they still visited her in the quiet, when the world slowed down and memory got too loud. Even after she found love.
“You still see them?” I asked.
I thought maybe love had chased them away.
She let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Not like before. Not since Vitali. Not since you kids. But they still come. You never really get rid of ghosts, sun. You just learn to live with the bastards.”
I didn’t speak. Just pressed my fingers to the cool glass and watched the wind ripple the roses.
“You can’t sleep,” she said again, softer now. “Because she’s there.”
A crooked smile tugged at my mouth. “And how do you know that?”
There was a pause. Then that laugh—the quiet one that always makes my chest ache in the gentlest, cruelest way.
“Oh, my beautiful boy,” she said, warm and tired. “There’s nothing about my children I don’t know.”
I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the glass.
“It’s too much…”
“What’s too much?” my mother asked.
“This feeling in my chest when she’s near.” My voice was low, frayed. “It grows stronger every day, and it terrifies me. What if she finds out who I really am and realizes she deserves better? God, I shouldn’t have let her into my world.”
“You and I both know she was always going to find her way in,” she replied, her voice like smoke curling through the line. “And there’s no one better than you, Azariel. No one. I care for Poe deeply, but if she doesn’t see that, then maybe she’s not as wise as we thought.”
I swallowed hard. My throat ached. “She’s going to find out soon.”
There was a pause. Long and quiet. Then: “Let her.”
“You talk like that’s easy.”
“It’s not,” she said, softly. “But it’s worth it.”
She had seen my father’s darkness—and kissed it. He’d done the same for her. I wondered if Poe would run from mine… or if she’d stay.
“I see through you, you know,” my mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent too many years loving that heart of yours. There’s nothing it can hide from me.”
I said nothing, jaw tight. She always saw through me. Through the masks. Through the lies I told myself. She even saw the part of me that belonged to Poe.
“Tell me, sun,” she said, a smile hidden in her voice, “what is it about her that makes you so... different?”
The words caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to say it. But she was right. Poe was different. The first time I saw her, something cracked inside me. Something I thought I’d buried. I had built walls to protect what little was left of me—what the life before my parents hadn’t already taken.
“I’m not different,” I said at last, though it felt like a lie the moment it left my lips. “I’m still broken.”
“Lies,” she said, gently. “You’re softening, Azariel. Don’t pretend you’re not. You’ve been softening since you were a little boy hiding in my garden.”
I closed my eyes. I remembered.
“You’re still that boy,” she said, “with anger in his eyes and pain in his chest, who once picked up a knife and offered to kill the ones who hurt me.”
Her voice was calm, but it cut deep.
“You, my sun... You are not your scars. You are not what they did to you. You are Azariel Solonik Parisi. And no one is more perfect for her than you. No one.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and still, until the question slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
“How did you know you loved Dad?” I asked, voice rough, barely above a whisper.
“I knew,” she said, “because he made me want to live.”
Her words hit something raw inside me. A part I didn’t want to acknowledge. Her voice held that quiet ache that comes with remembering something beautiful and painful at once.
“With him,” she went on, softer now, “breathing was easy. And it never hurt.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat thickening like a stone. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know how to hold that kind of love in my hands without breaking it. She was talking about a love that made the world feel lighter. A love worth every risk. A love worth burning for.
And God, I wanted that.
It terrified me—but fuck, I wanted it.
I looked down, my fingers flexing at my sides. “I’m afraid,” I admitted. It felt pathetic to say it out loud, but I couldn’t lie to her. Not her. Never her.
Mom didn’t speak at first. But when she did, her voice was low and steady—full of truth.
“I was afraid too,” she said. “Still am. I lie awake at night worrying I’ll lose the three loves of my life. But I wake up every morning and give you all everything I have. Because one day I’ll lose you, or you’ll lose me—but I’ll leave this world knowing I loved deeply. And I was loved just the same.”
Her breath hitched gently, then she added, “That’s the beauty of love, sun. Don’t chase it. Don’t run from it. Just... let it consume you.”
Let it consume you...
Something inside me shifted. I could feel it. A slow unraveling. A choice being made.
I might not deserve Poe.
But I was taking her anyway.
I was a selfish bastard, and she had turned my world black and blue the moment we met—and she hadn’t stopped since. Not even when time, distance, and fate pulled us apart. Even then, the color never faded.
A scratching sound broke through my thoughts.
I looked over.
Allen—the damn cat—sat in the corner, his glowing green eyes fixed on me with that same judgmental stare. He let out a low, disgruntled meow, like he couldn’t believe I was still this dense.
“What?” I muttered. “You think you know me better than I know myself?”
Allen blinked once.
Then just kept staring like I was the dumbest fuck alive.
“Fuck off to sleep,” I muttered under my breath.
Kadra’s soft laughter filled the quiet.
“You’re not as heartless as you think, Azariel,” she said gently. “You’re not a monster.”
“I am. Just because you love me doesn’t mean I’m not one.”
“Then what does that make me? Your father?”
“Mine.” I closed my eyes. She knew what I meant. They’ve done terrible things—still do. Just like me. And yet, I love them more than I’ll ever be able to explain.
“Exactly,” she said. “And you… you are her monster to love.”
Her monster…
The words dug into me, soft and brutal. I swallowed hard.
“You should sleep.”
“I will,” she murmured. “Now that I know you’ve called.”
Her voice was tired, but warm. Grounding. Real.
“I love you, Mom.” I didn’t say it often. I usually just showed her. But tonight, I needed to speak it.
“I know,” she said, smiling through the line. “But not more than I love you. Now go… watch over your heart.”
The line clicked softly, and silence returned.
My mother’s voice still lingered in the back of my mind, her words cutting through the quiet like a soft breeze. She always knew how to get under my skin—how to reach the parts of me no one else could.
Well… no one except the beautiful creature currently sleeping under my roof.
I stared out the window. The storm had calmed, but thunder still split the sky, and rain tapped gently against the glass. Sleep wouldn't come. It never did. So I stood there, staring into the dark, when something caught my eye.
A flicker of movement. A flash of white and blue.
Her.
Poe.
She stood outside, just beyond the edge of the garden—almost ghostlike against the storm. Lightning cracked across the sky, painting the night in harsh, fleeting light, and for a heartbeat I saw her clearly—blue hair swirling in the wind, her white dress clinging to her body like moonlight itself had wrapped around her.
She didn’t belong to the night. Not really. But in some strange, twisted way, she fit inside it perfectly. Her light didn't fight the dark. It softened it. Shifted it. Turned it a shade of blue.
She’s been doing that since she was five years old.
What was left of my heart clenched tight at the sight of her. I couldn’t look away.
She moved toward the black iron gates, and I already knew where she was going.
The rose garden.
From up here, it looked small, harmless. But it wasn’t. It was massive. A world of its own tucked within the grounds of Blackthorn Manor. I had designed it that way—a sanctuary, a maze of petals and thorns, each path precisely planned.
No one had ever reached the center.
No one was meant to.
Until her.
I watched, frozen, as Poe stepped into the garden, the hem of her dress brushing against wet roses. She looked like part of the storm—wild, delicate, impossible.
And then the dread set in.
That deep, gnawing kind that starts in the gut and spreads. I had spent years hiding the truth. Burying my obsession for her beneath layers of silence and shadow.
But now, she was walking into the heart of it.
Into the place where I had hidden my madness.
Into the center of the rose garden.
It wasn’t just a rose garden.
It wasn’t just a place I designed for beauty, or a sanctuary for solitude hidden deep within the manor’s bones.
It was where I had buried my obsession.
My sick, aching love for her.
From the moment we were children, I felt it—that pull. That gravity she carried in her voice, in her gaze. How she could consume me with just one softly spoken word.
But I never let anyone see it.
Especially not her.
Not Poe.
I watched in silence as she reached the garden’s edge, stepping gently between the rosebushes. For a moment, I wanted to stop her—call her name, pull her back before it was too late.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding louder than the thunder still cracking overhead. My breath caught in my throat as she wandered deeper into my madness.
Because she wasn’t just walking toward the center of the garden.
She was walking toward me.
And she didn’t even know it.
She was already too deep in my blood-soaked world.
Too deep inside my black heart.
This had to happen.
She had to see it.
The truth.
The truth is, I’ve loved her since we were children.
Since the first moment I saw her—wild blue hair, and that strange, unshakable light in her green eyes.
She pulled me in, without ever trying. And for years I buried it.
I buried that feeling under ice. I pretended it was nothing. Let it rot beneath layers of indifference and cruelty.
But every tender look she gave me, every quiet second we shared—she thawed something in me. Slowly. Steadily. Lovingly.
And now, here she was.
At the edge of everything I’d tried to hide.
Standing at the threshold of my darkest obsession.
But there’s no turning back now.
And there will be no more hiding.
Not from her.
And as she reached the center of the garden, I felt my heart hammer like thunder against my chest.
I wasn’t certain about many things when it came to us but I knew one thing for sure.
I was madly in love with her.
I’ve been in love with her since I was nine years old.