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Mrs Azrael
Last Updated:
2025-08-03 06:52:36
Latest chapter
A year to love the devil AZREAL'S DEMON
Azrael's POV I woke up with Yasmine in my arms the next morning with a grin on her face. And I was about to step down from the bed, when it all hit me, the wave of what I hated the most. My time was running out, a fuckin countdown, 9 months, when my eyes caught a figure by the door. Mordecai... I slowly shifted away from Yasmine outside the room, anger ebbing at every part of my body. "I never thought the Almighty Azrael would sleep in a room with other Color than black," It taunted. "And the girl, you really think she's your Chance at salvation?" I clenched my jaw, my hand twitching before I could stop it. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, my voice low. “Elyon made sure of that.” Mordecai stepped out of the shadow, his grin stretching too wide for a human face. His eyes gleamed the color of burnt copper, slick and hungry. “You think rules ever applied to me? You forget, brother, I was born from your rage. Wherever you are, I am.” I hated the way he said brother,
A year to love the devil BEGINNING OF HIS RUIN
AZREAL'S POV Yasmine's smile was a blade, small but sharp, and for the first time in centuries I realized I preferred it to softness. She wasn’t trying to heal, wasn’t begging for mercy — she wanted blood the way a starved wolf wanted meat. And gods, I understood it. I pushed away from the doorway, the boards sighing under my weight. “Shadows are louder than screams,” I said. “He’ll start looking for them everywhere.” Yasmine propped herself up on her elbows, hair falling loose over her shoulders. “You make it sound like an art.” “It is.” I crossed the room, letting the pale light fall across my face. Her eyes tracked me with that familiar tension — part revulsion, part curiosity. I’d stopped trying to name which part was winning. “Fear works best when it doesn’t know when it started or where it ends. A single crack in his certainty… and the rest of him will crumble.” She didn’t argue. That, more than words, told me she was learning. Francis would not die quickly. No — quick wa
A year to love the devil SPARKS OF RUIN
AZREAL'S POV We didn’t wait long, by nightfall the list on the table was already worn soft from our hands. Names, numbers, small notes in Yasmine’s hurried script. She tucked it into her journal like a sacred text and looked at me with that same fire I was beginning to recognize — the one that meant she wouldn’t sleep until something moved. “Let’s start with Francis,” she said, tying her hair back. “He’s the easier one. He’s too proud to imagine anyone could reach him.” I leaned against the doorway, arms folded. “You want him paranoid before he loses everything. The paranoia will make him sloppy.” She gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Sloppy means vulnerable.” We started simple — a message. Not from her number, not in her tone, but close enough. Words cut down to bone: I see you. Delivered at a time she knew he would be alone in his office. Yasmine’s fingers hesitated over the screen only once before she hit send. We didn’t wait for the reply. It wasn’t a
A year to love the devil PLANS AND PROMISES
AZREAL'S POV She tugged the pendant at her throat, a small habit she’d picked up. “What do you mean by small?” “False sightings,” I said. “A shadow in the corner of his office. A voice on his voicemail that sounds like Yasmine, saying things that only she would know.” I watched her as I listed the ideas. “Documents. Little notes delivered where he can’t help but see them. A file that reappears on his desk after he deletes it. Friends who swear they heard him talking to himself on calls. The absence of sleep eats at the mind like rust.” She smiled then, cold and sharp. “Make him think I’m alive. Make him see me in places I never would be. Make him imagine the things he did.” “Exactly.” I tapped the wooden table once. “And make him watch. We’ll leak his mistakes at first—emails, payment trails, forged evidence implying he’s been embezzling from his own company. Not enough to kill him financially; just enough to get the board sniffing. Then a call from an anonymous source. Then a c
A year to love the devil UNFORGIVING INTENT
Azrael’s POV I stared at the room. It didn’t feel, didn't look like mine anymore. The heavy curtains were gone, the ones that shut the world out and kept everything in shadow. In their place, pale ash-colored fabric moved faintly with the breeze, letting in more light than I thought I could tolerate. The bedspread Yasmine had insisted on was softer too, patterned in shades of blue and white that clashed with every inch of black paint on the walls. It should have been unbearable. It wasn’t. The plant in the corner, stubborn and green, looked almost ridiculous against centuries of darkness—but I couldn’t stop staring at it. Blue, white, ash. The words tugged at me, and memory stirred. “What’s your favorite color?” A voice, soft and curious, leaning close across time. “I don’t have favorites,” I’d answered, centuries ago. “But if I did, it would be… blue. White. Ash.” Her laugh had been bright enough to echo in my bones. I blinked and the memory fell away, leaving the prese
A year to love the devil CURTAINS OF CHANGE
YASMINE'S POV There was a look on his face I couldn’t name. Concern, maybe, or a tiredness that sat behind his eyes. I felt my stomach flip at it, like a small animal sensing weather. For a moment, I almost told him about the dream—the lash, the girl on the ground, the way it had felt like it belonged to me—but the words died behind my teeth. Some things stayed buried because speaking them made them true. Instead, I kept the conversation light. I told him about a woman at a stall who’d insisted a fabric would make my cheeks brighter, and he laughed at my joke about replacing his curtains with something gaudy and pink. He laughed like he meant it; the sound was rarer than it should be, and it did something in my chest I couldn’t name. When I pushed my chair back to stand, he reached across the table and caught my wrist—gentle, not a grip that demanded. “Stay,” he said simply. I froze because when Azrael said a single word and meant it, it felt like an order and a promise all at onc
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