Page 31 of Cry of Blood and Joy (French Quarter Vampire Enforcer #2)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Enzo
I drew on vampire speed, tapping into reserves I’d never accessed before, my body becoming a blur of motion that defied human comprehension.
The world around me shifted into slow motion—every heartbeat, every blink, every falling raindrop suspended in surgical precision as I moved faster than I ever had in my life.
My muscles burned with supernatural fire, pushing beyond every limit I’d ever known.
Angelo would kill Joy—I could see it with horrifying clarity, the image searing itself into my mind.
He’d torture her slowly, methodically, making her pay for every moment Serenity lay trapped in that cursed coma.
The thought of his hands on her, of her screams echoing through whatever hellhole he’d chosen, sent liquid rage coursing through my veins like molten metal.
Angelo was stronger than I was—my maker, my blood, my superior in every way that mattered in a fight. But I’d fight him to the death to save Joy. I’d tear him apart with my bare hands if necessary, even if it meant my own destruction.
She was worth dying for.
The humid New Orleans air whipped past my face as I moved like a phantom through the French Quarter.
I vaulted over a group of stumbling drunks on Bourbon Street, their slurred laughter and the clink of beer bottles barely registering as I landed silently on the other side.
The sharp scent of spilled alcohol and vomit filled my nostrils for a split second before I was gone again.
A streetcar clanged its bell somewhere ahead—I ducked beneath it, rolling under the massive wheels with inches to spare, the metal screaming against the tracks above my head.
The startled faces of late-night revelers blurred past as I wove between them, my supernatural reflexes keeping me from colliding with the oblivious humans who couldn’t even see me coming.
Neon signs cast everything in garish reds and blues, but I was moving too fast for the colors to do more than streak across my vision like abstract paint.
The sound of jazz music spilled from open doorways, mixing with laughter and shouted conversations in a symphony of night life that I barely heard over the thundering of my own determination.
Every breath I took was another breath Joy spent in peril. Another second closer to losing her forever.
I pushed harder, faster, until the very air seemed to part before me like water.
The roof of Crescent Manor peeked through the twilight like a Gothic specter, its ornate ironwork silhouetted against the darkening sky.
I half expected to see bats circling the elaborate balconies—and knowing this place, some of them would be real vampires in their transformed state, not just my imagination conjuring horrors in the shadows.
The humid evening air carried the scent of old brick and wrought iron alongside the ever-present aroma of the French Quarter—coffee, spices, and the lingering dampness that never quite left New Orleans.
My hands clenched into fists as I studied the imposing structure, every window dark except for a few flickering lights that could mean anything.
Coming through the front door would get me nowhere—too exposed, too obvious, and Angelo would sense my approach long before I reached him.
The side entrance would be my best option, hidden partially by the sprawling oak tree whose branches scraped against the building’s weathered brick.
More importantly, that door was closer to Angelo’s private chambers.
That’s where he would take her.
My gut wrenched at the thought of Joy trapped somewhere inside those walls.
I had to grip the iron fence to steady myself.
The metal was cold beneath my palms, grounding me as dark memories threatened to surface.
I knew what Angelo was capable of, had witnessed his methods firsthand over the decades.
The psychological games, the calculated cruelty designed to break someone’s spirit long before their body gave out.
I shook my head violently, forcing those images away. Joy was strong—stronger than she knew. She would survive this. She had to.
Because I was coming for her, and nothing—not Angelo, not our shared blood, not the entire vampire hierarchy—would stop me from bringing her home.
I slowed down as I approached the manor, scanning for guards.
There were two in front of the house that I could easily take out, but that would only draw Angelo’s attention.
Down the driveway, I spotted Dimitri standing guard in front of the side entrance.
He was alone. He would want to prove to Angelo that he could do this himself.
A deadly, stupid, arrogant mistake.
I plowed into him like a runaway Mack truck, every ounce of supernatural strength and centuries of rage focused into a single, devastating impact.
Shockwaves rippled through me from the brutal impact—the revolting sound of bone against bone echoing sharply through the enclosed space.
His body flew through the air in a graceful arc, arms and legs flailing helplessly as he crashed into the double garage door.
The wood exploded on impact—slivers of cypress and iron flying in every direction like deadly confetti.
Dust and debris rained down as his body lodged halfway through the splintered opening, his legs dangling limply while his torso disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Blood—dark and rich—splattered across the broken wood in scattered droplets.
He was a born vampire, his supernatural healing already trying to repair the damage, but an impact like that would leave even our kind unconscious for precious minutes.
Maybe longer. Maybe permanently, if I’d hit him at just the right angle.
At this point, I didn’t care.
He had betrayed me. Taken Joy. Handed her over for whatever twisted game Angelo was playing.
The metallic scent of vampire blood in the air mixed with the musty smell of old wood from the damaged garage.
Broken debris scattered across the limousine parked inside.
My hands were shaking—not from the impact, but from the sheer effort it took to restrain myself from finishing what I’d started.
Something savage in me wanted to drag him from that wreckage and make him suffer as Joy had.
I wanted to torture him. To hear him scream the way I knew Joy had screamed. To break every bone in his body until he begged for the mercy he’d never shown her.
But my first priority was finding Joy and getting her out of this den of vipers before Angelo decided playtime was over.
The bastard could wait. Joy couldn’t.
My fingers wrapped around the brass doorknob with crushing force, the metal groaning in protest before giving way with a sharp snap.
The lock mechanism crumbled like paper in my grip, tiny fragments of steel and brass raining onto the polished hardwood floor.
I didn’t bother with finesse—I ripped the entire door from its frame, the hinges screaming in metallic agony as screws tore free from the wood.
The heavy oak door sailed through the air behind me, crashing into the opposite wall with a thunderous boom that shook dust from the ceiling. Plaster cracked and fell in white chunks, filling the narrow hallway with a choking cloud that made my eyes water.
Angelo’s secret room was only feet away now.
I could smell it, that distinctive cocktail of fear, pain, and old blood that clung to places where horrors were committed.
The scent hit me with overwhelming force, so thick and cloying I could taste copper on my tongue.
My enhanced hearing picked up something that made my dead heart skip—the faintest whisper of breathing from beyond that door.
Joy had to be there. Please let her be alive.
Angelo wouldn’t waste any time once he had her in his domain.
The time it took me to reach her was time she spent in agony.
I drew back and slammed my shoulder into the locked door with the force of a battering ram.
The impact sent shockwaves through my entire body, my bones jarring against each other as the thick wood quivered and buckled.
Dust exploded from the frame as the deadbolt strained against its housing, metal groaning under pressure it was never designed to withstand.
The door held, but barely. One more hit would do it.
One more hit, and I’d either save the woman I loved—or find her broken body and spend eternity making Angelo pay.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
Each strike against the door reverberated through the narrow hallway like thunder, the oak wood splintering under my relentless assault. Splinters flew past my face, one slicing across my cheek.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I spun around, every muscle in my body braced for violence.
Angelo wasn’t in the secret room—he stood at the far end of the hallway like an avenging demon, his dark silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through a stained-glass window.
Hate brewed in his coal-black eyes, the same eyes that had once looked at me with something resembling brotherly affection.
Now they held nothing but contempt and barely restrained fury.
The air between us crackled with tension so thick I could taste it on my tongue, metallic and sharp like the moment before lightning strikes.
“I’m here to take Joy.” My fangs extended involuntarily as rage flooded my system. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
Angelo’s lips curled into a cruel smile, that same smile he’d used on countless victims. “Take Joy?” He let out a harsh laugh that echoed off the peeling wallpaper. “You think the bitch is here?”
The casual venom in his eyes made something snap inside me. Red edged my vision, and my control slipped away like sand through my fingers.