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Chapter Fifteen

Enzo

I was back at Ravenwood Estate and in one of Simon’s bedrooms, but I couldn’t move.

My body felt weighted with invisible chains, my muscles frozen in place as if turned to stone.

The familiar scent of damp cypress and blood that permeated Simon’s domain seemed stronger, more threatening in this dreamscape.

But everything was in black, gray, and white as if I was watching an old movie.

Joy was tied to a wooden chair, fear flaring in her eyes like trapped lightning.

Her wrists were raw and bleeding from struggling against the ropes, dark bruises already forming on her exposed skin.

Marsha and Maximo walked around her like wolves waiting for the perfect moment to attack, their footsteps echoing unnaturally loud on the hardwood floor.

The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to pulse and retreat with Joy’s rapid breathing.

Marsha slapped her across the face with a crack that echoed through the room, giving her a fat lip that swelled instantly, blood trickling down her chin. Joy didn’t make a sound, but her eyes brimmed with tears she refused to shed.

Anger rose through me, molten and consuming, but I was like a frozen statue unable to move. I strained against the paralysis until I felt like my veins would burst, but not even my fingers would twitch. I was a spectator, helpless, forced to watch the horror unfold.

Maximo grabbed her hair and yanked it back, exposing her throat in a way that made my fangs ache with protective fury.

His nails lengthened before my eyes, those same deadly weapons that had paralyzed me.

“You will not use your powers against me,” he hissed, his breath visible in the suddenly cold air of the room.

“Stop. Please. I don’t... I don’t know how to control them.” Joy’s voice broke, a tremor running through her body. Beneath her chair, shadows writhed momentarily before falling still again, as if responding to her distress.

“You will learn,” Marsha said, her voice carrying that singsong quality that made her threats all the more terrifying. She traced a finger down Joy’s cheek, leaving a trail of frost in its wake. “Or I will torture Zoe until she dies.” Her smile was all teeth, her eyes glittering with malice.

I noticed a girl gagged and strapped to the bed, her eyes wide with terror. Zoe? She thrashed against her restraints, muffled screams barely audible through the gag. Dark symbols had been painted on her forehead and arms, pulsing with an eerie glow.

“Noooo, please.” Joy’s anguished cry seemed to make the shadows in the room shiver and stretch toward her captors before retreating again. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”

I wanted to scream to Joy not to give in, but nothing came out. My throat felt sewn shut, my vocal cords severed. I could feel Maximo’s poison still coursing through me, keeping me immobile, forcing me to witness my failure. The worst torture of all.

The scene began to blur at the edges, Marsha’s laughter growing distorted as the dream started to dissolve. The last thing I saw was Joy looking directly at me, somehow sensing my presence, her eyes conveying a silent message: Find me.

Warmth flooded through me and the anguish lessened, like poison being drawn from a wound.

My eyes flew open. I was back at Crescent Manor, the familiar dark mahogany ceiling beams coming into focus above me.

The balcony doors were cracked open and I could hear the music of Bourbon Street floating up to my room.

The distant notes of a saxophone wailed like a mournful cry, mingling with the sounds of revelry and life that seemed to mock my current state.

I sucked in a breath, the vivid nightmare still clinging to my consciousness like cobwebs. Joy’s terrified face hovered in my mind, the silent plea in her eyes more real than the ceiling above me. Dream or vision? With our kind, the line often blurred.

Serenity had been able to connect with Angelo when she’d been kidnapped. Did Joy have the same ability or was this mere coincidence?

Serenity sat on the edge of my bed, her slender fingers touching my arm. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, strands escaping around her face. The soft glow emanating from her fingertips contrasted with the darkness that had nearly consumed me.

“The venom’s fighting me. I’ve never felt anything like this,” she said, concentration furrowing her brow. “But you’re too stubborn to die, Enzo.”

I couldn’t even smile, just stare at her and move one thumb.

Angelo stood at the foot of my bed with a deep scowl on his face.

Not the look of a disappointed boss, but the concern of a brother who’d walked through centuries of death and glory at my side.

His eyes, usually calculating and cold to outsiders, held the rare flicker of worry that only family would recognize.

“This was targeted,” Angelo said, shifting his weight. “Whoever hurt Enzo knew exactly what would incapacitate one of us.”

The grandfather clock in the corner of my room ticked away, marking time that Joy didn’t have. Through the patio doors, moonlight spilled across the antique furnishings that had witnessed the Santi family’s rise to power, blood oath by blood oath.

Serenity glanced up at him warily, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead from the exertion of healing. “You think this was Balthazar’s doing, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” Angelo’s jaw tightened, the muscle along his cheek jumping with tension.

“Maybe he escaped from his cell in hell. I didn’t think that was possible unless Lucifer let him out.

” The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees, as if the mere mention of Balthazar had siphoned away all warmth.

I wanted to open my mouth and tell them Maximo was the one who had wounded me, but my mouth was still frozen, my jaw locked in a silent scream of frustration. My thoughts raced behind eyes that couldn’t convey the urgent truth burning inside me.

Steve paced the room like a caged animal, fangs partially extended in agitation. The scent of his blood changed, turning sharp and metallic with fury. As his maker, I could feel his emotions. “So Balthazar’s got my sister now?”

Angelo glared at him. “We don’t know that. Get a grip on yourself or I’m going to stash you in my private room.”

Translation—torture room. He had no patience for newborn vampires.

Elena, our housekeeper, had tears in her eyes. She was more like our surrogate mother than a housekeeper. She clasped her hands together and tears slid down her cheeks. “Serenity, s’il vous pla?t , don’t let him die.”

Angelo put his hand on Serenity’s shoulder, his ancient eyes softening momentarily. “You can heal him, Serenity. I know you can.” His voice carried a rare tenderness, the kind reserved only for his mate.

Serenity nodded, gently increasing her grip on my arm until I could feel the heat of her fingertips branded against my cold skin.

She took a deep breath that expanded her chest, her eyelids fluttering closed as she centered herself.

When she opened them again, she gazed at me with her blue eyes—not ordinary blue, but the luminescent blue of a summer sky reflected in crystal water—pouring her power into me.

The sensation of her healing energy felt like warm honey flowing through my frozen veins, fighting against the venom’s icy grip.

More fingers twitched, the sensation like pins and needles as blood flow returned.

My jaw moved with an audible cracking sound, as if breaking through a crust of ice.

The paralysis was wearing off, but far too slowly.

Every second that ticked by was another second Joy spent in Maximo’s clutches. Desperation clawed at my insides.

“Maximo,” I managed to spit out, the name tasting like poison on my tongue, my voice a ragged, guttural sound barely recognizable as speech.

Steve stopped pacing as if I had thrown water on his face, fangs retracting slightly in shock. “How could he wound you? He’s human.”

I moved my jaw side to side, the sounds popping in my ear like tiny firecrackers. Pain shot through my neck, but determination pushed through it. “His nails lengthened like daggers, and he slashed me with them.”

“They must have been poisonous to vampires.” Serenity sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, her blue eyes dimmer than usual. “It was hard to heal, even for me.”

Angelo threaded his fingers through his hair, frustration evident in the tightness around his eyes. Moonlight cast harsh shadows across his face. “Balthazar might have given him help, gave him some kind of demon power.”

“Or Marsha,” I rasped out, hatred dripping from each syllable. The witch’s name alone left a bitter taste in my mouth, memories of her past betrayals flashing through my mind.

“We need to find out who.” Angelo held my gaze, his eyes hardening like stone. “I don’t want us to be vulnerable. This ability might be passed along to others in the Barone family.”

In a blur of movement, he clasped Steve by the throat, lifting him off the floor until his feet dangled helplessly. “You worked for them before. What do you know of this?”

Steve clasped his wrist, fingers scrabbling against Angelo’s grip, his eyes watering as veins bulged in his forehead. His lips turned a pale blue as he choked out, “I’ve…never…seen him do this.”

“Angelo.” Serenity came up alongside Angelo and rubbed his arm, her eyes pleading with quiet authority. “Hurting him isn’t going to bring us answers.”

He abruptly released Steve, frustration flashing across his face like summer lightning. Steve collapsed on the floor with a dull thud, gasping for breath and rubbing his throat which now had angry red marks.

I scrubbed my face with trembling hands, the simple movement requiring more effort than it should. “There’s something else.” It was becoming easier to talk except I sounded like I had laryngitis, a gravelly whisper that scraped against my throat.

The room grew quiet as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next bomb to go off.

“Joy has a power.”

I coughed, a painful spasm that shook my entire body, unable to get any more words out. My chest heaved with the effort, each cough feeling like shards of glass tearing through my throat.

Angelo ripped his wrist open with his fangs, his movements swift and decisive, dark blood welling instantly from the wound. His eyes blazed with urgency as he stuck it under my mouth, the scent of ancient power filling my nostrils. “Drink. I want to know what power.”

I greedily sucked in his blood, my fangs extending instinctively at the taste of my maker’s essence.

The rich, metallic liquid burned a path of healing fire through my system, each swallow pushing back the poison that had nearly claimed me.

Strength returned to my limbs, my thoughts clearing like fog burning away in morning sun.

I pulled away as blood slipped down the edge of my mouth, running hot against my cold skin. “Shadows,” I gasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Joy can control shadows. Maximo must know about her power. That’s why he wants her.”