Page 39 of Sweet Venom

He doesn’t ask about my work. Neither does Mom. They don’t need to. They both knew I had been hunting them—those who fuck with the innocent, the ones who think they’re untouchable. The ones who taught me there’s more bad than good in this world. The ones I now erase from my world so theycan no longer hurt kids. Dad knows. And yet, somehow, he still asked.

“That last fucker. You made beautiful art with his remains,” he said proudly. “Your mother and I couldn’t be prouder.”

I smiled at that.

Most parents tell you they’re proud when you bring home a good woman, or when you graduate from college. My parents would too, of that I have no doubt, but they were also proud I haunted a pedophile, gutted him and then used his remains to make an example out of him. To show others like him what will happen to them when I get my hands on them.

There’s a long pause on the line before he spoke again. This time more softly. “I want to know, son... How are you really?”

I closed my eyes. This wasn’t an idle question. This was him poking at me, searching for something I’ve buried deep inside. It wasn’t like him to show concern, not unless it was something he saw as a threat to his family. But the truth was, he loved me in a way that only someone like him could—unhinged, violent, unapologetic. And I was the same. We both craved the chaos that came with family. The madness. The loyalty.

“Truly, I’m fine,” I repeated, my voice flat, cold. Another pause. Longer this time. I know what he was doing—waiting for me to crack. Trying to get beneath the ice. But I wouldn’t let him. Not now. Not ever.

“We raised you to be ruthless, Azariel,” Dad said, his words slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the truth of it. “You’ve been hunting the ones who hurt the weak, the ones who hurt children. I know why you do it. I want you to do it if it helps you find peace, son. But don’t let it consume you. You have to find a balance between all that ugliness and all that hate.”

I tightened my grip on the phone, the pressure building in my fingers. He wasn’t wrong. I know he’s not. I felt it too. All that pitch-black darkness with no light to ground me. Truthwas, I wasn’t just hunting those fuckers to keep them from hurting more kids—I was hunting to fill a void. I was hunting because it’s the only thing that made me feel alive. Every kill, every drop of blood, was a reminder of what I am. What they made me.

“I’m not broken,” I said through gritted teeth. My tone is softer than I intended. There was an edge there that betrayed me. It was the edge that had been carving me apart for years. My father was no fool. He’s the smartest man I know.

“No. You’re not broken. You’re my son. You’re everything I wanted and more. But this... this thirst for blood, Azariel. Don’t let it consume you. Don’t let it control you, either.”

I leaned forward, staring at the black wall. My father knew me better than I knew myself at times. But even he didn’t understand this hunger and this need I have to destroy. He didn’t understand the madness that pulsed through my veins whenever I took one of them down. It’s like a drug. And it was the only thing that made me feel anything that resembled peace. Mom did, though. She, too, was someone’s victim once. She used that madness in her favor and wreaked havoc on everyone who ever hurt her. Dad did it too, but he did it for her and for his brother, Uncle Mikhail.

“Nothing controls me,” I said, quieter now, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “Besides, you taught me to do this. You taught me how to make them pay. Why is it an issue now?”

There was a moment of silence, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something else—something softer, maybe. But he didn’t. Instead, he let out a sharp breath, and I could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

“I know, and there’s no issue. I’m not against it. I’m proud of you, Azariel. I just want more than darkness for you.” His voice softened, just for a moment, like he was speaking directly to me now. “Our family is everything. You, your mother, your sister…you are the only ones who matter. I want only beautiful things out of life for you all. Your mother wants you to have your ‘one day’ in the sun after so many dark days. Don’t lose yourself in the dark again, son.”

Fuck.

They always did this. They always pull me back from madness.

I let dad’s words settle. It’s strange how he can say something so simple and make it sound like a warning, a command, and yet, in the same breath, I could hear how much he cared. How much he loves me. The only love that has ever meant anything to me.

“I won’t,” I said, though the words feel hollow. Because the truth is lately all I crave is to spill blood and to ruin anything that gets in the way of me getting what I want.

The line fell silent, and for a moment, we just existed there, connected by the only thing that’s ever mattered between us—the chaos we thrive in, the maddening love that ran deep, even when it’s buried beneath a mountain of violence.

Then, his voice came again, lower this time, like he was treading carefully, but it was still full of that raw, unflinching honesty. “Azariel… I know life was dark and cruel before your mother found you, but I hope the life we gave you showed you that there’s more for you than your scars and your past, my boy. I hope you know that those who hurt you didn’t break you. I understand your need to set things right. Trust me, I do. Your mother understands too and if you ever need us don’t you ever doubt that we’ll be there to finish the job if that’s what you need. If you need me to set the world aflame to keep the monsters in your head at bay, I will in a fucking heartbeat. I–” he paused and took a deep breath before he continued. “I just want more for you than just a lonely existence. I want you to find someone who understands your darkness. Find someone who cravesmadness with you, son. Someone who doesn’t just understand it but craves it, like your mother and me. You see the darkness, the hunger we share, and I want you to find that in someone else. Someone who won’t try to change you. Someone who will stand with you and hold your hand in it.”

I sat still, absorbing my father’s words, letting them wash over me. I wasn’t expecting this. The man who taught me to thrive in chaos, who taught me how to destroy and build at the same time—wants me to find happiness in the very madness we live in.

“It’s time for you to find your happiness, Azariel,” he said, the love in his voice unmistakable now. “You deserve it, just like your mother and I found ours. Do whatever you need to get it and once you do, son, you grab that bitch by the throat, and you never let her go.”

Happiness.

The darkness that had clung to me like a second skin stirs at his words. I thought about it and there was something unsettlingly comforting in the idea of it, of finding someone who understood. Someone who will never judge. Someone who will join me in the madness. The thought was almost too much. It felt like it could break something inside me or maybe put it all back together if I allow it. There was only one person who has ever had the balls to look at me like I’m not a monster, even sit by me in the quiet of night without asking anything in return, only friendship and love.

Love… the word didn’t taste so bitter in my mouth when I thought of her. Poe.

“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice rough. “Maybe.” There were no other words that needed to be said, and Dad knew it. He didn’t press further, just let me sit with the thought. I was grateful for that.

“I love you, malen’kiy, korol,” he said, voice thick with love for me. “I’m always here even when you don’t see me. I got you.”

Prince.

Once I was given a number to ridicule me and dehumanize me because I was the lost son of the Bratva’s prince of New York. I was nothing until my parents found me and gave me everything. Now they worry about me. I don’t want that for them. I don’t want them to worry about me. Fuck.

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