Page 21

Chapter Twenty

Enzo

I exhaled a deep breath as the car got closer. Tires approached but not from Simon’s direction—the sound cutting through my thoughts like a sword. It was coming from the opposite road, the distinctive purr of a high-end engine growing louder.

Keir’s gray limousine pulled up, sunlight glinting off its polished surface in almost painful flashes.

The vehicle seemed to radiate cold despite the warmth of the day, an otherworldly chill that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

His driver stopped with practiced precision.

The scent of winter and something ancient—older even than Angelo—wafted from the interior, making my nostrils flare.

Keir stepped out, the air around him seeming to shimmer slightly as though reality itself bent in his presence.

He headed over toward Angelo and Trystan with Lorcan at his side, both moving with that inhuman grace that no vampire could fully mimic.

Behind them walked an Unseelie I’d never seen before.

His blond hair was darker than the normal Unseelie, more honey than platinum, though his face remained partly in shadow from this distance.

Something about him made my skin crawl—like observing a predator disguised as something familiar but marked by subtle wrongness I couldn’t fully identify.

Even without clear details, my body tensed, centuries of survival instincts screaming a warning I couldn’t properly articulate.

I wasn’t going to be left out of what was happening.

Rage and fear crystallized into action as I drew on vampire speed, the world blurring around me in streaks of color.

The familiar rush of power surged through my dead veins like liquid fire, and I was next to Angelo before Keir even got there—the displacement of air tugging at my clothes as I came to a stop.

My senses heightened with the burst of movement, every scent more potent, every sound more distinct, the hollow ache in my chest for Joy sharpening to an almost unbearable point.

The Unseelie king didn’t even blink at my display, his ancient eyes regarding me with the casual dismissal of someone observing an insect. The temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees as he spoke. “I have news you need to hear.”

Angelo met his gaze, power against power, the air between them almost crackling with tension. Two predators, neither willing to show weakness. The air between them seemed to vibrate with tension, like the moment before lightning strikes. “And?”

I could feel the subtle shift in Angelo’s stance—the barely perceptible tension that indicated his concern.

“This is Morden Grimshaw. He’s been on special assignment for me.” Keir gestured toward the unusual Unseelie, whose gold-ringed brown eyes seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. A faint, unfamiliar scent clung to him—something primal yet ethereal, like autumn leaves touched by moonlight.

I cast my gaze over Morden, taking in every detail with predator’s eyes. The gold-ringed brown irises, the honey-blonde hair, the way he stood slightly apart—comforting in his difference. My tongue pressed against the back of my teeth, tasting the air like a snake. “What assignment?”

“Unseelie business,” Lorcan cut in, his voice sharp with disdain. The sunlight caught in his hair, creating a halo effect that only emphasized the cold calculation in his eyes.

Morden’s gold-ringed eyes shifted momentarily to me, and a chill that had nothing to do with Keir’s presence slithered down my spine. In that brief connection, I sensed something both familiar and utterly alien—a predator recognizing another of its kind yet finding something fundamentally wrong.

“Don’t play games with me, Keir.” Angelo said with a glare, red highlights creeping into his dark brown eyes. “If you’ve got valuable intel, just spill it.”

The subtle shift in his posture–a coiling of power—made even Lorcan take an almost imperceptible step back.

“Always the impatient one,” Keir sighed, the sound ancient and weary like wind through forgotten ruins. His perfect features arranged themselves into a mask of affected boredom. “But I brought Morden here because he possesses a unique ability.”

Angelo cocked his eyebrow as if he wasn’t impressed.

But I didn’t possess the same dismissive attitude. A primal warning system engaged, older than my vampirism, older than civilization itself. My body recognized danger before my mind could name it.

“Lorcan reported what Joy had done at Simon’s, and I wanted Morden to demonstrate what he can do.”

I glanced at Lorcan, and he didn’t flinch under my scrutiny.

Something cold and heavy settled in my chest. I hadn’t realized he had seen what Joy had done that night—the shadows that had erupted from her in that moment of terror.

He must have been behind me without me knowing it.

That wasn’t like me; centuries of survival had honed my awareness to near perfection, but when it came to Joy, I lost my concentration.

She was my blind spot, a weakness I couldn’t afford yet couldn’t deny.

The shadows grew around Morden, swirling and manifesting almost as if he had wings—great, terrible wings of darkness that defied the bright daylight. The temperature seemed to plummet, and the scent of something burning—not wood or flesh, but time itself—filled my nostrils.

“As you can see, I can control shadows.” Morden looked at each of us one by one, his gold-ringed eyes lingering on mine for a heartbeat too long. The shadows rippled around him like living things, eager and hungry.

The controlled precision of Morden’s shadows only highlighted the dangerous potential of Joy’s untamed ability.

Where his darkness obeyed his every command, hers erupted unpredictably when her emotions ran high—wild, chaotic, and intimidating.

My worst fears unfolded before me: Joy had been taken precisely because of what she could do, what she might become with training.

Maximo must have recognized her raw power and wanted to harness it, regardless of the cost to her or those around her. The thought of her struggling against this force inside her, alone and afraid, made my dead heart ache with a pain more real than any I’d felt in centuries.

“I’m not possessed,” Morden said. “No witch or demon cast a spell on me. I was born with this ability. I believe this girl is half Unseelie. Someone must have unlocked her ability.” The gold rings around his irises seemed to pulse with each word, hypnotic and alien.

My fangs descended involuntarily, a snarl building in my throat as my suspicions crystallized into certainty. Here was the confirmation I’d been dreading—Maximo must have had Marsha unlock her powers and had discovered what creature sired her.

“Maximo,” Lorcan grumbled.

“Bastard,” I whispered. This wasn’t coincidence—this was predator recognizing prey.

Angelo narrowed his eyes, his stillness more threatening than any movement.

The pressure of his power intensified, pressing against my skin like a hard clamp.

Trystan released a low growl, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath our feet, wolf instincts recognizing a predator outside the natural order.

Angelo flicked his gaze over Morden, the movement subtle like a predator assessing a potential threat. His voice was deceptively casual when he spoke, but I knew the calculation behind it. “So you’re her father?”

Morden shrugged, the shadows around him rippling with the movement like dark water.

“This ability is rare, but that doesn’t mean I’m her father.

” His eyes found mine, and something knowing lurked in their depths.

“What I do know is that if she continues to use the shadows and doesn’t know how to control them, she’ll turn dark, and once dark, it can’t be undone.

She’ll be a danger to everyone around her. ”

The words struck me as if Angelo had punched me.

Each syllable hammered into my consciousness with terrible clarity.

My vision sharpened painfully, the edges of everything taking on a reddish tint as fear and rage warred within me.

The taste of copper flooded my mouth—I’d bitten my own tongue without realizing it.

Angelo’s eyes darkened to the color of dried blood, and a chill seeped down into my bones. I knew that look.

Had seen it countless times before he ordered a death.

Angelo protected the family by orchestrating the disappearance of liabilities.

If he deemed Joy dangerous, she would be eliminated.

And I was the eliminator. His sword. His executioner.

For centuries, I had been the one who carried out those orders without question or hesitation.

But not this time. Never Joy.

My body tensed, muscles coiling with the decision already made. I would protect Joy with my life. Even against my king. Even against my maker. A strange calm settled over me. Some choices transcended loyalty, duty, even survival.

I kept my face carefully blank, centuries of practice hiding the rebellion burning in my dead heart. But my decision was made. If it came to it, I would stand between Joy and the world. Even if that world included Angelo.