Page 48 of Cry of Blood and Joy (French Quarter Vampire Enforcer #2)

Chapter Forty-Five

Joy

Enzo writhed beneath those nightmarish black veins that seemed to pulse

with malevolent life, the thorny tendrils shifting and tightening with each movement he made.

But it was the deep, ragged scratches that mauled his beautiful skin that shattered my heart into a thousand pieces.

Crimson blood seeped from the wounds where Ari’s poison-coated talons had carved through flesh and muscle.

The dark liquid carried something else with it—something that reeked of decay and ancient evil.

I pulled frantically against my own restraints, the iron chains cutting deeper into my already raw wrists as I fought with desperate fury to reach him.

The burning sensation from the cursed bracelets was nothing compared to the agony of watching the man I loved suffer.

If I could just get one finger loose, maybe I could summon even the smallest tendril of shadow to free him from those horrific bindings.

“Enzo,” I sobbed, his name tearing from my throat. Tears streamed down my face in hot rivers, carrying with them all the helplessness and terror I’d been fighting to contain.

Ari approached me with a beautifully evil smile, his footsteps echoing off the weathered stones with deliberate slowness.

He was savoring this moment—my desperation, Enzo’s pain, the absolute control he wielded over both our fates.

“Now, little Unseelie,” he purred. “If you want to save your mate, you will do exactly as I say.”

The patronizing endearment made bile rise in my throat.

I was nothing to him but a tool, a weapon to be used and discarded when he no longer needed me.

But the sight of Enzo’s pain-contorted face, the way his powerful body convulsed as the dead demon blood worked its way through his system, made me willing to do anything—even become Ari’s puppet again.

“You can heal him,” I managed to say through my tears. The words came out as half plea, half demand, though I had no leverage to make demands of anyone. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want, but you have to heal him first.”

I watched Enzo’s struggles grow weaker, the poison stealing his legendary strength one agonizing second at a time.

“No, I can’t heal him myself,” Ari said with mock regret, his beautiful face twisted into an expression of false sympathy that made my anger burn in my chest. “But our dear King Gunnar has something quite special tattooed on his chest—a Cantan Dragon. It’s ancient magic, you see, and that little dragon can actually peel itself off his skin and take physical form.

” His blue eyes glittered with cruel amusement as he gestured toward the silver cage where Gunnar was trapped.

“Those magnificent creatures have a very particular diet—they inhale dead demon blood like it’s their favorite vintage wine. ”

The flippant way he described using Gunnar’s own magical protections against us sent fresh rage fluttering in my chest like angry bats trying to get out. This whole nightmare had been planned to the last detail.

“I’ll let the dragon heal both Enzo and Rose,” Ari continued with that same terrible smile, “if you do one little task for me.”

My breath caught in my throat as the full scope of his plan became clear.

Tears threatened to blur my vision, salt and moisture smearing onto my trembling lips as I fought to hold back sobs.

“You want me to open the Elder Dimension?” The words came out as barely more than a whisper, heavy with the weight of what that would mean for the entire supernatural world.

“Yes,” he confirmed with obvious satisfaction. “With the invaluable assistance of dear Marsha, of course. Her magic combined with your shadow abilities should do the trick quite nicely.”

“Don’t do it,” Enzo gasped from his position against the wall, his voice raw with pain and the effort of speaking through the poison coursing through his system. Even suffering as he was, he was still trying to protect everyone else. “Joy... Don’t give him... what he wants.”

But he was growing weaker with each breath. His face had turned ashen and his chest heaved as he struggled for air. The dead demon blood worked its way through his powerful frame, stealing his strength and leaving him trembling.

Ari’s expression shifted into something far more sinister, his perfect features hardening with cold calculation.

“I’ll continue to rip through his flesh with my talons,” he said conversationally, extending his razor-sharp claws for emphasis.

The weapons gleamed wetly with Enzo’s blood, still dripping with poison.

“It will take quite some time, and it will be extremely painful, but eventually the toxin will stop his heart completely.”

“No, no,” I shook my head frantically, pulling so hard against my restraints that I felt something tear in my shoulders. The thought of watching Enzo die slowly, agonizingly, while I hung helplessly here was more than I could bear.

“After I kill him,” Ari continued with clinical detachment, as if he was discussing his favorite recipe rather than describing torture and murder, “I’ll move on to sweet little Zoe.

Then Rose, of course—can’t have her interfering with my plans.

And finally, our regal Ebony.” His gaze swept across each of his captives like he was mentally savoring their destruction.

“The choice is entirely yours, my dear. But I should remind you—the first one to die will be your beloved Enzo.”

The ultimatum slithered around me like a poisonous snake, its invisible coils curling tight around my throat and cutting off my ability to breathe.

The cathedral’s stale air felt thick and suffocating in my lungs, heavy with the scent of old stone, spilled blood, and the acrid residue of dark magic that clung to everything like invisible smoke.

I met Enzo’s gaze across the hollow space between us, drinking in every detail of his beloved face even as pain contorted his features.

His dark eyes—usually so fierce and controlled—were glazed with agony, but they still held that unwavering determination that had made me fall in love with him.

Even now, even suffering as he was, he was silently pleading with me not to give Ari what he wanted.

The memory of Angelo’s torture crashed over me like a tidal wave, as vivid and horrifying as if it were happening again.

I could still hear his screams echoing in my mind—raw, animalistic sounds that had torn from his throat as supernatural agony overwhelmed even his legendary control.

The sight of him broken and bleeding had made me physically sick, bile rising in my throat as I’d watched someone I cared about reduced to nothing but pain and desperation.

But this was Enzo. This was the man who’d become my entire world, who’d shown me what it meant to be cherished and protected. The man whose arms had become my sanctuary, whose steady heartbeat had lulled me to sleep on nights when nightmares threatened to consume me.

I loved him with every fiber of my being, with a devotion so complete it felt like drowning in the most beautiful way possible. The thought of watching that light fade from his eyes, of hearing his voice go silent forever, was a torture more exquisite than anything Ari could devise.

I couldn’t watch him die. I couldn’t survive in a world where his laugh didn’t exist, where his protective fury wouldn’t flare whenever someone threatened me, where his gentle hands wouldn’t trace patterns on my skin in the quiet moments before dawn.

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks in silver rivers, carrying with them the salt of desperate love and crushing guilt. My pulse thundered in my ears, each beat echoing through my chest with painful intensity.

I’d do anything to save him—anything at all, even if it meant damning the entire supernatural world. Even if it meant he’d never forgive me for the choice I was about to make. Even if he’d spend eternity hating me for putting his life above countless others.

Because a world without Enzo wasn’t a world worth saving.