"A Flame that Fades"

Chapter 30: Monsters Among Us

⚠️ Warning: This chapter contains sensitive content, including sexual assault, betrayal, and graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Azgar's POV

The necklace was colder than I expected when she pressed it into my palm, the silver shell lying there like it carried more weight than metal ever should. I stared down at it, then at her, and for a moment my throat tightened in a way I wasn't used to. I'd held blades, bones, trophies of war—but this? This was something else entirely.

She whispered, "You're my special someone."

My chest squeezed, hard. Damn it, Freya. Did she even know what she was doing to me?

I lifted the chain, sliding it over my head. The shell hit against my chest with a faint tap, cold against scarred skin. It looked too fragile to sit on me, like it belonged somewhere softer, somewhere...more like her.

"It looks better on you than it did on me anyway. I don't mind if you have it," she said, smiling that small smile that always made me want to tear down walls for her. Her eyes lingered on the chain, like maybe she wasn't fully ready to let it go.

"Freya," I said, sharper than I meant. The word came out like a warning, though I didn't mean it that way. "I won't take it if you have second thoughts."

Her lips parted, and the air between us went still. I wasn't joking. I couldn't joke about this. Not when it was her father's. Not when it meant that much.

I let out a slow breath, my thumb brushing over the shell like I could feel the years and the bond it carried. "Besides," I added, quieter this time, "what would your mother think?"

That got her to laugh, a crooked little sound that pulled at me in places battle never touched. "My mother doesn't have to know. She'd probably faint on the spot if she saw me give it to you."

My brow lifted. "And yet you'd still risk her wrath?"

She looked straight at me, eyes fierce even as her voice stayed soft. "For you? Every time."

And just like that, I knew—I'd guard that necklace with my life. Not because it was hers, or her father's, but because it was ours now.

Words failed me, and that was saying something. Her intentions were so...pure. Too pure for a bastard like me.

I bent, pressing my mouth against the crown of her head, breathing her in. My lips brushed her hair when I whispered, "Oh, Fay...you're such a saint."

And gods help me, she was.

***

After hauling her luggage, along with her jewelry box and a few picture frames, I stacked them carefully under the shade of the old oak tree. The air was heavy, still, and for a moment I let myself breathe.

Then—movement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught two figures walking up the path. My body reacted before my mind did—I ducked my head low, keeping to the shadows like I'd done a thousand times on hunts.

"What the—" I muttered under my breath.

My gaze sharpened. The first figure was unmistakable. Her mother. The same sharp cheekbones, the same steel in her walk, the same eyes that could cut someone down without raising her voice. Freya carried that resemblance, though softer, warmer.

But it wasn't her mother that made my stomach knot.

It was the man walking just a step behind her.

The tilt of his head. That arrogant stride. His presence was wrong, poisonous. My chest tightened the instant recognition hit.