Page 14

Chapter

Fourteen

S erenity

“Where is she?”

The guttural scream ripped me from an exhausted sleep, my heart thundering against my ribs like it wanted to escape. The remnants of dark dreams scattered like ashes in a storm as reality crashed back.

“Balthazar, please.” Julienne’s voice cracked with desperation, her usual vampire composure splintering. “She’s exhausted, let her sleep.”

“From using her power against me.” Balthazar’s voice boomed through the house, making the walls tremble with demonic fury. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway like approaching thunder, each one sending vibrations through the floorboards. The sound of his approach measured out the seconds until his rage would find me.

I rolled onto my side, my body heavy with exhaustion as I stared at the door. Angelo’s face haunted my thoughts—had the execution happened already? Was his immortal life ended by beheading, or had they burned him alive, reducing centuries of power to ash? Noon had come and gone, and Balthazar had left to witness Angelo’s final death personally. Each imagined scenario was worse than the last, images of torture and fire that I couldn’t banish.

A flicker of hope cut through my despair. If by some miracle Angelo had survived, I knew he wouldn’t rest until he found me. The vampire had moved through centuries with unwavering determination—he would tear through the barriers between worlds if necessary. The thought of him out there, hunting through darkness for me, gave me strength even as I feared he’d met his true death.

The door exploded inward with a crack like breaking bones. I jumped, my heart lurching painfully in my chest. Balthazar filled the doorframe, hellfire dancing in his eyes, turning them into wells of living flame. The temperature in the room plummeted, frost crystallizing on the windows.

“We had an agreement that you broke.” Each word dripped with barely contained violence.

“I didn’t agree to anything.” I forced steel into my voice even as fear jackhammered through my veins. “You threatened me and forced me to cloak Steve.” The words came out steady, almost casual—a mask of calm over the terror churning beneath. My fingers twisted in the sheets, anchoring me to reality as waves of his demonic power rolled through the room.

He hauled me off the bed, his fingers digging into my flesh like iron hooks. “Do not play games with me, Nephilim.” The words came through clenched teeth as he dragged me out of the room and down the hall, my bare feet scraping against the cold floor. Each step sent jolts of pain through my arm where his grip tightened.

He threw me into the living room, sending me stumbling forward. On the sofa, Julienne’s posture shifted from concern to outright fury, her kind eyes transforming into chips of glacial hate.

The last person I wanted to see stood in the living room, swirling a glass of blood-red wine with casual arrogance—Petar Dragan. The usurper who had stolen Angelo’s crown, the vampire who styled himself a king. His presence made the air feel toxic.

“Serenity,” he drawled. “You caused quite a stir.”

Stir? Something must have happened to make Balthazar go nuclear. I tried to hide a smile.

Suddenly, strong fingers wove into my hair, yanking my head back so hard my neck muscles screamed in protest. Fingernails scraped against my skull like talons, sending shivers down my spine. “Drop your smirk, Serenity.”

I didn’t recognize the male voice, but something in it wasn’t quite right—the hatred seemed forced, almost artificial.

“Release her, Rocco,” Balthazar said, his tone almost bored. “I don’t want my prize damaged.”

I twisted to look at the man behind me and my entire body went rigid. His eyes were completely black, like pools of tar, except for pinpoints of fire dancing in their centers—hellfire in a vampire’s gaze. Rocco? Prince Rocco? I had never met King Nico’s son before this moment, but I had heard Enzo and Angelo talk about him. That’s when I saw it—fresh blood splattered across his expensive white shirt like abstract art, still wet enough to gleam in the dim light. My stomach lurched as I wondered whose blood it was, even as his grip loosened slightly against my scalp.

Was that Angelo’s? Pleasepleaseplease don’t let it be Angelo’s blood. The thought of him dying alone, burning while I was trapped here unable to save him, made my heart splinter into pieces. I couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering through that horror without me fighting to stop it.

“You’re Prince Rocco? That’s not… not Angelo’s blood is it?” The words fell from my lips before I could stop them. Everything I’d heard about King Nico’s son painted him as honorable and just—a good man in a world of shadows. But the figure before me with hellfire eyes and bloodstained clothes shattered that image like broken glass.

“No, it’s my mother’s.” His words were clipped and cold, so unlike the warmth I’d heard described in his character.

Balthazar squeezed his shoulder with mock affection, like a proud father showing off a prized puppet. “He’s now switched sides.”

“That’s only because he’s possessed.” Julienne’s voice came out barely above a whisper. I glanced at her, catching the way her fingers twisted into the sofa cushions, her usual composure cracking at the edges. My chest tightened seeing Rocco like this—another power vampire turned into nothing but a demon’s hollow shell. Just like Angelo’s maker—Dracula.

“A technicality,” Petar waved his hand dismissively, wine glass catching the light like liquid rubies. A chilling display of pleasure spread across his features. “His mother has learned a valuable lesson about what happens when anyone defies us.” The threat in his words hung in the air like poison.

“How did your mother’s blood get on your shirt?” My voice trembled as I gestured to the crimson stains, remembering how Dracula’s eyes had held the same hellfire when he’d turned on Angelo.

“She made a fatal mistake when she tried to intervene to keep Angelo from being horsewhipped.” His voice was mechanical, empty, as if reciting someone else’s words. He shrugged, the casual gesture a mockery of the horror he described. “Of course, it was pointless. Petar nearly sliced his skin from his bones.”

The words turned my blood to ice, then ignited it with rage. Angelo. Horsewhipped. Flayed. Each revelation stoked something primal inside me, a fury that blazed through my veins like liquid fire. My Nephilim power surged up unbidden, raw and electric, shattering Petar’s wine glass with a sound like breaking bones. Dark red liquid splashed across his expensive suit, bleeding into the fabric like fresh wounds.

Balthazar’s fingers dug into my shoulder. “Since you’re so eager to demonstrate your power, let’s put it to better use. Petar, show her the whip.”

Petar’s smile widened as he reached for an ornate box on the side table. The whip he pulled out gleamed with an unnatural sheen, its leather surface traced with veins of sickly green.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Petar held it up to the light. “Ancient vampire poison. Very rare, very painful. Right now it’s working its way through Angelo’s blood, turning every nerve ending into fire. He’ll wish I had carved him into pieces before it’s done.”

My stomach lurched. I tried to look away, but Balthazar forced my head back.

“Your lesson today is twofold,” Balthazar’s voice turned silky. “First, you’re going to cloak a special team of Petar’s vampires. They have a task to complete while... invisible. And then—” his grip tightened “—you’re going to watch through your power as the poison reaches Angelo’s heart. Consider it practice in maintaining a connection over distance.”

The words slammed into me like shards of ice. They wanted me to help murder Angelo? To be the weapon that destroys him? My whole body went rigid, tendons pulled taut like violin strings as the hellhound’s power surged through my veins. Let them think I was frozen in fear—they’d learn too late it was fury.

Rocco stood motionless, those hellfire eyes fixed on me, as more vampires filed into the room. My chance to help Angelo was slipping away with every second that poison coursed through his veins.

I had one chance, one moment while their guard was down. Punishment was certain, but Angelo’s life was worth any price. Drawing a deep breath, I threw out my arms and thrust every ounce of power I possessed into piercing hell’s veil, praying it would be enough to reach him. My Nephilim energy blazed through me like lightning, burning away everything but this one desperate purpose.

They’re coming, Angelo. They’re invisible. The whip was poisoned. Run.

The message ripped through my core like fire, draining me, but I pushed harder, forcing it through the barriers between us. I had to reach him. I had to?—

Balthazar’s bellow shook the room. For the first time since he’d claimed me, he struck me—his hand cracking across my face with demonic strength. The impact exploded through my skull and darkness rushed in. The last thing I saw was Petar’s satisfied smirk as stars burst behind my eyes, and then everything faded to black.