Ch-15

•~•Aziel’s POV

The door slid shut with a soft click, sealing me in with the one person I least wanted to be alone with—My mother.

My jaw clenched as my fingers curled into fists beneath the thick hospital blanket.

She stepped closer to the bed, but before she could speak, I cut through the silence—sharp and unyielding.

"Let them go."

She halted, her brows knitting together, lips pressing into a thin line.

"Them?" she echoed, her expression either genuinely confused or feigning confusion. "Who exactly am I letting go?"

I scoffed, barely containing my frustration.

 "My captors."

A beat of silence fell, heavy enough that I could feel my pulse quicken. Her cold, assessing gaze locked onto mine.

"I don’t have them," she said, her voice as flat as the dull, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor beside me.

A bitter chuckle scraped its way up my throat. "And you think I believe that?" My voice came out sharp, edged with disbelief.

"There’s no way Dominic found me by luck. I know you did something you’re not telling."

She exhaled, slow and measured, as if I was exhausting her. "It makes no difference whether you believe it or not—but I’ll say it again, it was all luck and nothing else."

After a pause, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes probing mine. "But then again… if I did have your captors locked up somewhere, why would you ask me to let them go?"

My silence seemed to amuse her—or maybe it just annoyed her.

"Aziel..." she continued smoothly, "don’t you think someone might suspect that you’re trying to protect the very men who left you on those train tracks to be crushed? Considering how concerned you are about whether I have them or not."

My stomach twisted, but I kept my expression impassive. Any hint that I knew more would only give her further ammunition.

I swallowed and straightened, forcing my voice to steady. "I’m not protecting anyone."

My eyes met hers, unflinching. "I only told you to let them go because I know you—and I know what you’re capable of."

The air in the room thickened, the silence stretching until I could hear faint voices from the hallway. Finally, she exhaled—a slow, deliberate sigh.

"The cops are still looking for them," she said at last. "So is Dominic." Standing motionless, she drummed her nails against the smooth edge of the silver band on her middle finger—a subtle sign that let me know her patience was wearing thin.

"And if I find them first, I promise to hand them over to the cops instead of dealing with them my own way. Is that fine?"

I said nothing—not because I trusted her to keep her word, but because I distrusted her even more.

If my mother didn’t already have my captors hidden away in one of her penthouses, then the moment she found them—or even just one—she’d torture him until he inadvertently revealed the reason behind my kidnapping, before handing him over to the cops. But knowing her, she’d probably just kill him instead.

She stepped closer, reaching out. Instinct took over, and I jerked away before her fingers could brush against my head. My gaze shifted to the door.

"I want to rest," I said flatly. "You can go. I don’t need someone watching over me like I’m a newborn."

Suddenly, her hand shot out, gripping mine before I could pull further away. My head snapped toward her, eyes locking onto her eerily soft smile.

Her fingers glided over my skin—slow, deliberate. Then, with a practiced precision, she pressed the tip of her manicured nail hard against the back of my hand.

A sharp, stinging pressure bloomed beneath it as she spoke in that same sweet, sickening tone.

"I’m not just someone, Aziel," she murmured. "I’m your mother. And no matter how grown you are, you’ll always be my baby. A mother watches over her child, doesn’t she?"

I swallowed hard, fighting the dryness in my throat as I forced myself to stay still while her nail dug deeper—the pain wasn’t overwhelming, yet every sharp jab carried a deliberate cruelty.

"So let’s not give your wife any reason to think our relationship is strained. Unlike a few minutes ago when she was here, the next time we’re with her, we must act like the sweet, loving mother and her ever-obedient son." Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and malice. "Okay?"

I stared at her for a moment, then scoffed. "Of course," I said, my voice thick with sarcasm. "Wouldn’t want your plans to marry me off to her to fall apart, right?”

She smiled, clearly pleased. "I'll leave you alone to rest. Goodnight, son."

She eased the pressure of her nails against my skin, then leaned down and pressed a small kiss there before finally letting go.

Straightening, she turned toward the door, her heels clicking softly against the tile as she walked away.

I watched her go, my jaw tightening. Then, slowly, my gaze dropped to my hand—a small bead of blood glistened where her nail had dug in, stark against my pale skin.