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Chapter Twenty-Two

Enzo

The crackling of radios echoing in the distance broke up our little party, police lights flashing through the trees.

Angelo placed a hand on my shoulder, the slight pressure a silent command.

We exchanged a glance loaded with unspoken concerns before retreating to the limousine.

The door thudded shut with finality as we settled in, the air inside the vehicle thick with tension and unasked questions.

“Dimitri, take us back to Crescent Manor.” Angelo drummed his fingers against the armrest—a rare tell that betrayed his unease.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Dimitri’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, catching mine for a brief moment. “Who was Keir’s new guy? Another one of his pet monsters with an attitude problem?”

“Someone with a power that could be a threat to us,” Angelo said, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape. The admission hung in the air between us, weighted with implications neither of us was ready to voice.

I remained silent, watching shadows dance across the road as we pulled away, each one reminding me of Morden’s display—and of Joy.

A cold numbness radiated through my center that had nothing to do with hunger.

Angelo hadn’t yet given his verdict on Joy, but I could feel the scales tilting toward danger in his assessment.

Every second that passed without finding her pushed us closer to a confrontation I wasn’t sure I could win.

“Boss,” I said carefully. “We need to find Joy before Maximo corrupts her.”

“Agreed. We need to figure out where he has taken her, then bring her to Crescent Manor to see if she poses as a threat to us.”

Dimitri let out an exaggerated sigh that filled the car.

“Please don’t tell me we’re dealing with another supernatural teen drama.

Those never end well for anyone involved—or the cars.

” The sound of his hand patting the steering wheel punctuated his words.

“This beauty deserves better than to be collateral damage in whatever apocalypse-of-the-week we’re facing now. ”

“Maybe Steve and the others found out more at Tremé House.” I watched Angelo’s reaction closely as I mentioned the human mafia boss’s stronghold. The territorial implications hung between us—vampires encroaching on human criminal territory rarely ended well for anyone.

“He’d better not have left a trail of bodies,” Angelo grumbled.

I stiffened and warily watched him cross and uncross his legs—a tell that his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

Vampires caught killing humans at the home of a mafia boss would bring the kind of attention we couldn’t afford—not just from humans, but from every supernatural faction watching for signs of weakness.

If Steve had left corpses behind, he was practically committing suicide with Angelo.

Our king’s rules about maintaining the delicate balance with human power structures were absolute.

My fingers tapped against my thigh once, twice, before I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone.

The cool metal and glass felt like a lifeline as the screen illuminated with a blue glow in the dimness of the car’s interior.

“Enzo. No one’s here.” Steve’s voice came through the line, taut with confusion that immediately set off alarms in my head.

I slowly tightened my grip on the phone, trying not to destroy it. “What?” The single word carried the weight of my disbelief. Tremé House was never empty—the human mafia boss ran his operation like a small army, with guards and servants constantly present.

“Put it on speaker,” Angelo said, his hand extending toward me in a gesture that brooked no argument. The subtle shift in his posture spoke volumes—this unexpected development had captured his full attention.

My gut tightened with apprehension as I complied, pressing the speaker button. The sound of Steve’s breathing now filled the car, along with faint background noises—footsteps on hardwood, the creak of a door opening somewhere.

“Say again. Angelo wants to hear.” I kept my voice measured, but the subtext was clear—a warning that if he had killed anyone, he’d better keep that information to himself. The look Angelo gave me confirmed he understood my tactics.

“No one’s here.” I could hear Steve’s footsteps reverberating in what must be large, empty rooms on the other end of the line.

“Lorenzo, Pascal, and I are inside. We’ve cleared the entire main floor.

There’s no one here. No servants. No guards.

No one.” He paused as if he was worried someone was listening.

“Boss, this isn’t right. There’s coffee still warm in the kitchen.

Half-eaten breakfast on the dining table.

It’s like everyone just... vanished mid-morning. ”

The silence that followed hung heavy in the car. I caught Angelo’s eyes, seeing my own unease reflected there. People don’t just disappear from a mafia stronghold without reason—and rarely without violence.

Cold dread settled in my stomach as the implications sank in. “What about computers?” I asked, leaning closer to the phone as if proximity might somehow extract more information.

“They took those too.” I heard what sounded like drawers opening and closing punctuating his words.

“Lorenzo went through his desk and there’s not even a date book.

Maximo took everything. There’s not even a file cabinet in here.

” He let loose a low whistle of surprise.

“When I worked for him, this place had a big wooden file cabinet—antique, Italian, worth a fortune—and it’s gone. Completely gone.”

Angelo’s body tensed beside me, the subtle shift in his posture radiating danger. “Any sign of blood or bodies?” he blurted, his usual composure slipping for a fraction of a second—enough to reveal just how serious this situation had become.

“No.” Steve’s response came after a brief pause, during which I could hear muffled conversation in the background.

“Pascal checked the bedrooms and there are clothes, but suitcases are missing.” His breathing had quickened slightly, the sound clear even through the phone’s speaker.

“Where the hell did they go? Maximo left before but his servants were always here.”

The questions hung in the air between us, unanswered.

Through the car window, I watched the shadows lengthening across the road as the afternoon progressed, each one a dark reminder of the power Joy possessed—and the danger she faced.

Maximo wasn’t just hiding—he was erasing his tracks completely.

The kind of preparation that spoke of long-term planning, not a hasty retreat.

Angelo scowled. “Meet us back at Crescent Manor. Now.”

“On our way, boss,” Steve said and hung up.

Dimitri’s laugh from the front seat was dry and humorless.

“This is a new twist. Our human mafia friend decides to pull a Houdini right when things get interesting.” He accelerated the car through a turn, the engine purring aggressively beneath us.

“You know what this means, right? Maximo’s not just running—he’s setting up shop somewhere he thinks we can’t find him. ”

His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror, dancing with a dangerous glint.

“I’ve got to hand it to the guy. Most humans are too stupid to realize when they’re completely screwed.

At least this one knows he should be terrified.

” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in a mocking rhythm.

“Ten bucks says he’s hiding out in the one place he thinks we’d never look.

Somewhere painfully obvious and yet somehow overlooked. ”

I stuck my phone back into my suit pocket. “I think he’s right, boss. Maximo is planning something big and we need to find out what.”

“Yes we do,” Angelo said. “Disappearing like that can only mean he’s planning a takeover. He needs to find out what happens when he threatens the Santi family.”

I rubbed my chin. “We have to find him first.” A thought occurred to me. “His clubs... if he’s truly gone underground, he might have shut them down too. But if he’s keeping up appearances, maintaining cash flow...”

“Either way, someone knows something,” Angelo cut in, his eyes hard. “Former employees, suppliers, the girls who worked for him—someone always talks. No one disappears completely.”

“First we need to make sure Crescent Manor is secure,” I added, memories of our previous breach still fresh. “I don’t want another invasion like we had last time.”

Last time there was an invasion, we lost one of our own—Jacques Girard. He’d been a loyal soldier and a good friend. I still missed his laugh.

Angelo pulled out his phone, the movement sharp and sudden. The ringtone barely completed one chime before it was answered. “Serenity?”

I caught the subtle tightening around his eyes that betrayed his concern.

I leaned closer, straining to hear Serenity’s voice on the other end. The conversation lasted only seconds, but Angelo’s expression darkened with each word.

“We are almost home,” he said finally, ending the call with a quick tap.

Dimitri glanced in the rearview mirror, his usual sarcasm replaced by genuine concern. “What’s wrong?” The car slowed slightly as he awaited instructions, his shoulders tensing beneath his leather jacket.

“The police are at Crescent Manor.” Angelo’s words fell heavy in the confined space of the car. Outside, the afternoon sun continued its arc across the sky, oblivious to our mounting problems. First Simon’s, then Tremé House, now our own sanctuary—the pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.

I sighed, running a hand across my face.

“Flanagan.” The detective’s name tasted bitter on my tongue.

Joy’s father’s former partner was proving to be as stubborn and determined as his deceased colleague had been.

Despite Joy’s father being dead, Flanagan had taken up his mission with renewed vigor, convinced we were connected to disappearances across the city—particularly Joy’s.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, but his persistence threatened everything we’d built.

But there was something off with Flanagan.

Something I couldn’t put my finger on which made him extremely dangerous.

In all my centuries of existence, I’d developed an instinct for identifying threats, and something about the detective sent warning signals through my ancient senses.

It wasn’t just his dedication to the case or his suspicion of us—it was deeper, more primal.

The way his eyes sometimes reflected light at odd angles, how he seemed to know things no human should know.

The fact that he’d shown up at our doorstep now, of all times, couldn’t be coincidence.

Angelo nodded, his jaw set in a hard line. “Hurry, Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s response was immediate—the powerful engine roared to life as he pressed the accelerator.

The car surged forward, weaving through traffic with practiced precision.

“Brilliant. Another delightful twist in this nightmare,” he muttered, but the usual edge of amusement was missing from his voice.

“First shadow monsters, then vanishing mafia bosses, and now cops at our doorstep. Should I expect locusts next, or will good old-fashioned hellfire be making an appearance?”

I remained silent as we headed through the French Quarter to Crescent Manor, my mind racing through possibilities, each worse than the last. Joy was still out there somewhere, vulnerable and alone.

And now, with police at our home base, our ability to find her—to save her—was further compromised.

The shadows seemed to deepen around us as we drove, as if echoing the darkness gathering on all sides.