Azrael’s POV

*****

Male Dormitory building, 6:13 PM

The moment he stepped into his suite, the door shut behind him. He brushed back his hair, unbuttoning his jacket as his eyes trailed to his balcony doors.

As expected, his suite was unchanged since they left for Montecito. Or... rather, as he’d hoped. For all he knew after this recent murder, the culprit might’ve chosen to ship the body to his suite.

Play the same sick game they played with Miss Benedicta’s body and the notes that followed.

"Clearly trying to frame me," he shook his head with a light laugh. "It makes so much sense actually."

He’d revealed his true nature to Luther just yesterday. They’d barely graced Bloodoak soil when they got welcomed with a new murder mirroring Miss Benedicta’s.

Same bite marks. Same lack of magic traces. Same ominous air.

Only this time, a mortal was aware of what he truly was. And was possibly suspecting him.

Walking to his room, he checked the bathroom just in case a dead body or note was secretly waiting for him there. None. Then he took off his glasses, walking onto his balcony at last.

The wind carried his breath as he stared down at the academy grounds. And the students scurrying around like ants. Sad little creatures who used other people’s ’drama’ for excitement.

Just remembering how those girls confronted Celeste about the video circulating where her magic burst out made his jaw clench.

"This academy deserves a purge," he mumbled, hands resting on the railing in front of him. "This culprit has grown too comfortable. And I’ve far exceeded my patience."

"Oh, la, la." A silvery voice behind him made him halt. "I like it when you sound like you’re about to rain death on all life. Reminds me of the old Azrael."

He didn’t need to turn around to know who that was.

Amunira.

"It’s becoming a habit," he noted casually. "You appearing without my summons, that is."

"Just here to see how tonight unfolds." Her stilettos clicked with each slow step she made until she was beside him. She wore a black silk dress that blew around her like dark clouds, her hair flowing elegantly down her shoulders.

"Unfolds?" Azrael inclined his head in time to see her nod.

"Yes," she smiled faintly. "It’s the night after your little hybrid shifted something in the Vein. I’m curious to see if anything new happens."

Her eyes glinted with a light he couldn’t read.

But he didn’t need to read her.

Instinct was more than enough.

Drumming his fingers slowly on the railing, he blurted coldly. "Now tell me the real reason you’re here."

His shadow twisted, elongating into a grotesque figure that enveloped the entire balcony in darkness. Amunira’s features shifted from her usual teasing calm to something else.

Just for a second. Yet enough to let Azrael know he was right.

She was here for another reason.

"Alright, alright, you can withdraw the predatory presence now." Those words from her made Azrael do just that. As the shadows went back to normal, Amunira sighed. "It’s... our master. The High One has assigned me to stick closer to the hybrid princess from now on."

Azrael’s frown deepened. "Why?"

"I told you there’s been a shift, Azzy." She inched toward him. "Our brethren are already questioning your closeness to her. If it weren’t for the High one having a plan for her—"

"They won’t touch a hair on her head even if they tried." Azrael interrupted, his mind going to something. "Hold on... does this mean any of our brethren have been around this academy at any point today?"

Amunira blinked once before shaking her head. "No. They’ve all been within their respective territories."

Each of their brethren stayed hidden in different parts of the world. Some here in North America. Others are staying as far as the Middle East, Africa and Asia.

Crossing oceans, even with teleportation, would be too much of a hassle. Which is another reason why the idea of one of theirs being behind the killings felt wrong.

"Another person was killed tonight," Azrael dropped the information like he’d grown accustomed to things like this. Truth be told, he had. "In the Dean’s office. Same bite marks and empty eyes as the last one all those days ago."

Amunira voiced her concern. "It was definitely not one of our brethren."

"I know."

"And none of us has sired any new vampires in the last two decades."

"I know." Azrael’s gaze drifted back to the academy grounds below. "Which means someone is imitating us."

Amunira’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Or attempting to."

He exhaled slowly.

"The bite marks were wrong."

That made her glance at him sideways. "Wrong how?"

"They were precise." His voice lowered. "Measured. Almost symmetrical."

Amunira hummed faintly. "Is that not how you feed?"

A faint, humourless smile touched his mouth. "No."

He turned to face her fully now.

"True feeding is instinctive. The pressure varies. The puncture depth adjusts to the pulse. There’s movement. Resistance." His eyes darkened. "There is hunger."

The cleaner’s body replayed in his mind again. Pale throat. Two clean punctures. No tearing. No struggle marks around the jawline.

It looked... rehearsed.

"Whoever did that," he continued, "studied the folklore. Not the reality."

Amunira’s expression sharpened slightly.

"They wanted witnesses to see it and think only one thing," Azrael said. "Vampire."

And conveniently he revealed his nature to one of the wolves yesterday...

Luther.

The timing was way too clean to ignore.

The Alpha had laughed it off. Mocked him. Dismissed him.

And now? A staged corpse. A second incident reinforcing the possibility.

Someone wanted Luther to reconsider.

Wanted doubt to grow.

Wanted the Alpha to look at Azrael and wonder.

He didn’t voice it, but the thought was clear:

Someone knew.

Or had overheard. Or had been watching far longer than he assumed.

Amunira studied him carefully. "Do you suspect something?"

"I suspect ambition," he replied calmly. "And strategy."

She tilted her head. "Meaning?"

"Meaning someone believes planting fear amongst the mates will fracture us. Create distrust in Celeste’s mind."

"And you," she said softly, "are the easiest fracture point." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

He’s a vampire. An outsider. Ancient.

Yes. He was the perfect wedge.

Amunira stepped closer, silk brushing against the stone floor. "Our master’s interest in the hybrid complicates matters. If someone is attempting to destabilise you, they may be aiming at her next."

The air shifted.

Azrael’s eyes glowed faintly red again before dimming. "They will not."

She smiled faintly. "You sound certain."

"I am."

A pause stretched between them.

Then he turned slightly toward her. "You said you’ve been assigned to watch her."

"Yes."

"How exactly do you intend to accomplish that?"

Her smile returned in full force—sly and infuriating. "Leave that to me."

"That is not an answer."

She leaned against the railing, shoulder brushing his deliberately. "You are not the only one capable of subtlety, Azzy."

His expression hardened. "Do not interact with her."

A brow arched.

"Do not approach her. Do not speak to her. Do not appear in her dreams. Do not whisper into her mind."

"How possessive," she mused.

"Protective."

Her lips curved. "Fine. I shall observe from a distance."

"And if I sense otherwise," he added quietly, "you will not enjoy the consequences."

For a flicker of a second, something predatory flashed in her eyes. Then it was gone.

"As charming as always," she said with snark. Black mist curled around her ankles. "Do try not to get framed again before sunrise."

And she vanished.

Silence reclaimed the balcony while Azrael remained still.

The wind tugged at his hair. The academy lights flickered below like fragile stars.

He lingered there longer than necessary.

Beneath all of this madness was Celeste.

Her magic erupting in Montecito. The Vein shifting. The High One’s attention tightening like a noose.

Everything was accelerating.

He could feel it.

His form dissolved into shadow without another sound.

The night embraced him.

He slipped through corridors of darkness, bypassing wards and barriers like they were decorative illusions. He emerged only when he reached the edge of the female dormitory building.

Her balcony.

He materialised silently against the stone.

Inside, Celeste sat cross-legged on her bed, Willow opposite her.

"Okay," Willow was saying eagerly. "Start from the beginning. You disappear for days and come back trending."

Celeste rolled her eyes. "It wasn’t supposed to go viral."

Azrael’s gaze softened against his will.

She looked... normal.

Alive.

Unaffected by the invisible war tightening around her.

Willow leaned forward. "So the Vein beast really called you Child of Chaos?"

Celeste hesitated.

Azrael noticed that.

That half-second flicker of something heavier beneath her usual fire.

"Yes," she admitted. "It did."

"And?"

"And nothing," she said quickly.

He studied her posture. The way her fingers curled slightly against her knee.

She wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Then—

Her head turned slowly. Directly toward the balcony.

His body stilled as her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Did you feel that?" She murmured.

Willow blinked. "Feel what?"

Celeste stood, stepping toward the doors.

Azrael didn’t wait.

He dissolved into shadow an instant before her fingers reached the curtain.

She pulled it aside but the balcony was empty. Still. Dark.

But she didn’t look convinced.

And from the far corner of the building’s shadow, unseen, Azrael watched her linger.

She was starting to sense the dark. And soon, the dark would answer back.