Page 16

Chapter

Sixteen

E nzo

Joy struggled against Maximo’s crushing grip. He dragged her toward a black SUV, a triumphant smirk on his face spreading impossibly wide, splitting his features. I tried to stand, my legs tangling in invisible restraints. The knife wound in my back blazed with fresh agony, sending me stumbling. I reached for her—so close, just inches away—but my arms moved through the air like molasses.

The SUV’s doors slammed shut like the sound of a coffin closing. Joy’s face pressed against the tinted window, her features distorting, stretching in terror. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as they peeled away, the vehicle dissolving into shadows that swallowed her whole.

“Joy!” I screamed, thrashing against the darkness that held me down. Steve’s blood filled my mouth, choking me, drowning me. Still kneeling in the dirt, watching her disappear over and over, my body refused to move. The taste of vengeance turned to ash on my tongue as Joy’s accusing eyes haunted the darkness.

Someone shook me hard, tearing the nightmare away. “Wake up, Enzo. We have work to do.”

I jerked awake with a strangled cry, sheets twisted like restraints around my sweat-soaked body. My heart slammed against my ribs as I clawed my way to consciousness, the echo of Joy’s terrified face still burning behind my eyes. The knife wound in my back throbbed with phantom pain, a reminder of my failure that even sleep couldn’t erase.

I groaned, not believing the voice... Angelo towered over my bed. My breath caught in my throat as disbelief crashed through me like a blade of ice. I struggled to push myself upright, wincing as my wounds protested the movement.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, voice breaking. My hand reached out of its own accord, half expecting him to vanish like smoke.

But he was solid. Real. Not the battered king I had seen at Fandor Citadel, whipped to shreds and barely able to walk—but the king I served: powerful, commanding, ready for war.

The shift from nightmare to this reality felt like whiplash, but even as relief flooded through me, the guilt of losing Joy still clung to me like a second skin, dragging me back to our desperate reality.

“Angelo?” I shook my head, the pain still throbbing in my back where Steve had stabbed me. The wound refused to heal properly, a constant reminder of my failure with Joy.

He ripped open his wrist. “Here, drink.”

His essence radiated something ancient and familiar—like finding a heartbeat you’d forgotten was missing. Where Keir’s remedies felt foreign and clinical, Angelo’s blood promised to awaken every deadened nerve ending, to remind my broken body what it meant to be whole. The connection between us wasn’t just loyalty or servitude—it was written in whatever passed for my soul, a signature I couldn’t erase. One taste would do more than heal my wounds; it would reinstate the clarity and purpose I’d known as his right hand, washing away the fog of doubt that had clouded my decisions since I’d lost him.

I slowly released his wrist, savoring the last drops of his ancient blood as it dripped down my chin. The familiar metallic taste lingered on my tongue, a reminder of the bond between maker and apprentice. “Good to see you, boss.” My voice was stronger already, though exhaustion still weighed heavy in my bones.

Angelo looked down at me, his eyes dark with concern he’d never voice aloud. “Enough.” The word dropped between us like a gauntlet. “The clock’s ticking.” Something in his posture shifted—a barely perceptible softening at the edges. He must have been worried to share his blood so freely. Like me, he was still healing, but at a much faster rate.

I flipped the covers off, trying to hide my grimace. “No rest for the wicked, huh?”

He flashed me a hard look, the kind that made lesser vampires tremble. But I knew him too well to flinch.

“I’m moving.” I crawled out of bed and sat on the edge, my muscles protesting every inch of the way. The beast in me burned with shame at this weakness even as Angelo’s blood worked its healing magic through my veins. My strength was still returning, too slowly for my liking. I was the enforcer—lying around in bed wasn’t my nature. “What’s the plan?”

I wanted to track down Joy and rip out Maximo’s flesh, but I knew Angelo had other plans.

“Vlad is still possessed.” Angelo’s jaw tightened at the mention of his maker, and I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. Once they were as close as brothers, but now they were bitter enemies. “According to Keir, there is a potion or stone or spell inside the Nightshade Crypt that could release the demon.” His quiet words whispered of the dangers we could face when we faced Dracula. But danger was our old friend.

I stretched one arm, then the other, trying to shake off the lingering stiffness. “Then what?” My stomach twisted, already knowing the answer wouldn’t be good.

He shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his casual gesture. “We go to hell and get Serenity and Julienne.” The words dropped like ice into my gut.

He made it sound as easy as pie, his voice steady and controlled, but cold fear crept into my heart. Down there, Balthazar had an army at his command, and I clenched my hands into tight fists. Not to mention the king of hell—Lucifer—would be hiding in the shadows, watching, waiting. A shiver ran through me despite the room’s warmth. Lucifer wouldn’t like anyone penetrating his realm, especially if an archangel could slip inside. The very thought of facing the fallen one made my newly received blood run cold.

“You really think Vlad can open up the gates of hell?” I pushed myself to stand, testing my balance against the bedpost, my legs still unsteady beneath me.

“Yeah, I do.” Angelo paced the length of the room, his boots silent against the wooden floor, predatory grace in every movement.

I ran my hand through my tangled hair, wincing at the dried blood I found there. “What about Joy and Gianna?” My voice cracked on Joy’s name, raw fear clawing at my insides as I imagined what that sadistic bastard Maximo might be doing to her. Each second she remained in his possession felt like another knife in my gut.

“We will get them back too.” He paused by the window, his fingers drumming against the sill in an irregular rhythm that betrayed his restlessness.

My muscles tensed as I took a cautious step forward, trying to push away the images of Joy suffering that threatened to overwhelm me. “And Petar?”

Angelo whirled around, fangs flashing in the dim light, his whole body coiled like a snake ready to strike. “Leave him to me.”

There was a knock at the door. Keir entered, his usual composure marred by subtle signs of stress around his eyes. “We have a slight problem.”

Angelo glared, the temperature in the room seemingly dropping several degrees. “What?”

“Steve DuPont is becoming very difficult.” Keir’s gaze fixed on me and I cringed, my stomach twisting into knots. Shit, Angelo wasn’t going to like this. A newly made vampire was the last thing we needed. My throat went dry as Keir continued, “He’s raging, and even my seasoned warriors are having difficulty controlling him.”

The murderous anger in Angelo shifted to something more calculated, his centuries of experience taking over. “The demon inside him must be powerful. Possibly there’s something in the Nightshade Crypt that could help him as well.”

Keir’s lips curved into a wily smile that made my skin crawl. “I see you haven’t told him.”

Angelo frowned, his expression darkening like storm clouds gathering. “Told me what?”

I sighed miserably, my chest tight with dread. “Steve isn’t possessed. I turned him.” The words felt like ash in my mouth.

Angelo moved faster than my weakened body could track. His hand locked around my throat as he slammed me against the wall, the impact rattling through my bones. “You did what?” His voice was deadly quiet, more terrifying than any shout.

I met his angry eyes, refusing to look away even as his grip tightened. “He was dying…” my voice rasped against his crushing grip, “and Joy begged me to save him.”

He released abruptly. “You fool. You know what it’s like to manage a newly turned vampire, especially with your blood. We don’t have time for this shit.”

Keir looked between us, his ancient eyes taking in the rising tension. “Fight about this later.” His voice carried the weight of urgency. “Unfortunately, Steve has drained all the blood that we have and is demanding more. The hunger in him...” He shook his head, a flicker of genuine concern crossing his usually stoic features. “You’re going to have to feed him or kill him.”

Angelo’s gesture was casual, dismissive, but behind it lay the absolute loyalty of a criminal empire built on blood oaths and buried enemies. “Kill him.” The words fell like an executioner’s axe.

Keir bowed slightly, his movements fluid and graceful despite the gravity of the order. “As you wish.”

“No.” My voice came out ragged, and I cleared my throat, pressing my palm against the cold stone wall for support. My legs trembled beneath me, still weak from my own injuries, but determination burned through my veins hotter than Angelo’s blood. Joy’s face flashed through my mind—the terror in her eyes as our enemies dragged her away; the way she’d screamed her brother’s name before they took her. The memory of her being torn away while I lay wounded and helpless clawed at my insides. I wouldn’t fail her family again.

Not like this.

Angelo moved with preternatural speed, crowding me against the wall. His presence was overwhelming, the air thick with his power and fury. “Are you defying a direct order from me?” Each word dripped with dangerous promise, his eyes blazing with a fire that had terrorized enemies for centuries.

I had never disobeyed Angelo in all the centuries we fought together. Our shared history was intertwined between us like brothers—blood-soaked battlefields, countless victories, the empire we’d built together in New Orleans. Every instinct screamed at me to submit, to bow my head and accept his will as I always had.

But I had never met anyone who stirred my soul like Joy. The thought of her suffering at Maximo’s hands while her brother died here... I couldn’t bear it. I would do anything for her, even defy my king. The vow settled in my chest like a burning coal, terrifying and liberating all at once.

I lifted my chin and prepared to fight my blood brother. “Yes.”