Page 5

Chapter Five

Enzo

I sat out on the steps of Crescent Manor, surveying the bustle of Bourbon Street below.

The night air carried the scents of humanity—sweat, alcohol, perfume, desire—all of it meaningless to me now.

Inside, Angelo and Serenity had finally found their peace, their love united before witnesses both mortal and immortal.

The wedding music still drifted through the open windows, a melody that should have been celebratory but only twisted the knife of absence deeper into my chest.

I was happy for them. Genuinely. After centuries at Angelo’s side, I’d never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at his Nephilim bride.

But all I could think about was Joy—her name a cruel irony now.

She was out there somewhere, and her memory burned in my mind like a fever that grew more consuming with each passing day.

My mate. The words tasted like spoiled blood in my mouth, a concept I’d mocked other vampires for over the centuries.

The pathetic way they’d become enslaved to a single being, how they’d throw away power, position, immortal dignity—all for the sake of one person.

I understood now. Gods help me, I understood completely.

And the bitter twist of fate? Joy had no idea. She didn’t know what she was to me—that invisible, unbreakable thread that connected us, a bond she couldn’t yet feel. I’d recognized it instantly, that first moment our eyes met, but she’d only seen another of Angelo’s dangerous enforcers.

I swirled the bourbon in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the moonlight.

These agonizing weeks without her, and the world had already lost its color, its flavor.

My meals became joyless ritual, my own heartbeat a stranger’s rhythm in my chest. Sleep eluded me.

The bond between mates wasn’t just some romantic notion—it was an endless hunger, a constant emptiness that nothing could fill.

Maximo Barone had her. The thought set my fangs on edge, venom pooling in my mouth.

I pictured his hands on her, her fear, her pain, and something primal and violent rose within me—a rage so pure it scared even me.

Three centuries of carefully cultivated control threatened to shatter in an instant.

And if—when—I found her, she wouldn’t understand the ferocity of my protection, wouldn’t know why I would tear apart anyone who had harmed her.

How could I explain that she was mine in ways she couldn’t comprehend yet?

That I’d recognized her as my fated mate the moment I first saw her, though I hadn’t even spoken to her until that frantic moment at Angelo’s execution?

I was done playing by the rules of mafia engagement with the kings.

Done with territories and councils, with diplomatic channels and negotiated terms. The old Enzo—Angelo’s reasonable enforcer, the strategist, the one who counseled patience—was gone.

In his place stood something else, something even the vampire world had reason to fear: a mated vampire separated from his other half.

I drained the bourbon in one swallow and rose to my feet. Let Maximo hide. Let him run. The game had changed, and he had no idea what was coming for him.

For her, I would burn the world.

Angelo was busy with Serenity and making up for lost time. She had been kidnapped by the demon Balthazar and taken to hell. He had given orders to not knock on their door unless it was an emergency. Or if you had a death wish.

He had used Keir Rankin, the Unseelie mafia king, to help him track down Serenity, but there was always a cost. Keir never did anything for free, and like Angelo, I was willing to pay that price. In our world, debts weren’t settled with paperwork, they were written in blood.

I headed up to the iron gate to his home, the Court of Thorns, which was in the Garden District. Two of his guards stood outside the gate, looking about as welcoming as a pair of attack dogs.

The guard put his hand over the hilt of his sword. “What do you want, enforcer? You don’t have an appointment with the king.”

“I need to talk to him.” My voice was flat, the tone I reserved for people who were either obstacles or soon-to-be messages.

“Does Angelo know?”

I chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that made smart men nervous. “Tell me. If Keir was on his honeymoon, would you interrupt him to see if he had given his enforcer permission to talk to another king?”

They glanced at each other, their faces pale. Keir was just as lethal as Angelo, and just as skilled in the art of torture. The Unseelie made even the vampires look like amateurs. These guards knew the hierarchy—they were soldiers, I was a capo. In our world, that difference meant everything.

One took an involuntary step back, his hand dropping from his sword hilt. He grabbed his phone. The other swallowed hard enough that I could track the movement in his throat.

They knew my reputation too—Enzo Di Salvo, the shadow that fell before Angelo’s wrath. I wasn’t just a messenger; I was the last face many saw before they disappeared. The boogeyman. The way these guards avoided direct eye contact told me everything I needed to know: my reputation had preceded me.

“Keir, this is Ruin. Enzo Di Salvo is here to see you.” Ruin tracked my movements as if he was afraid I was about to launch into an attack, his fingers twitching at his side—the nervous habit of someone who’d seen too many quick deaths.

I gave him a surly smile reserved for enemies that tried to defy me. It never ended well. A cold satisfaction settled in my chest as I watched him squirm under my gaze. I’d cultivated that fear for decades, polished it like a weapon.

He shrugged, feigning indifference though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “No, he didn’t tell me.” He frowned but then nodded to the other guard who opened the gate with a reluctance that nearly made me laugh.

Keir had to be as curious as hell to find out why I was here. I had just seen him at the wedding, but I didn’t get to talk to him about Joy. The mere thought of her name sent an uncomfortable warmth through my chest—a feeling I wasn’t accustomed to and didn’t quite trust.

One of his henchmen met me at the door and escorted me to Keir’s office.

His enforcer, Lorcan Blackthorn, stood behind him, his eyebrow cocked like Mr. Spock the moment I entered.

The hatred pouring off him was almost palpable, like the metallic scent before a thunderstorm.

Lorcan rubbed me the wrong way like a constant thorn in my side, ever since I beat him in a fight and retrieved the magical Void Chain.

The memory of his humiliation still burned in his eyes, feeding a grudge that had festered for years.

The chain had the power to restrain any supernatural and bind their powers.

We’d been at the cross end of the sword ever since—two predators circling, waiting for the other to show weakness.

His face had hardened into its usual expression of cool assessment, a permanent fixture that matched his short-cropped hair—a stark contrast to Keir’s flowing white locks that fell past his shoulders.

Most of the Unseelie wore their hair long as a matter of tradition and pride; Lorcan’s cropped style stood out like a declaration.

It wasn’t just a haircut but a calculated statement, a daily reminder to his king that he followed his own rules. A small defiance that spoke volumes.

The striped blue suit he wore looked like it had been painted onto him, too rigid and formal, the fabric barely moving as he shifted his weight.

It practically screamed what I already knew—he was an uptight asshole who took himself far too seriously.

The kind of man who thought a tailored suit could mask the predator underneath.

Keir studied me with his sharp blue eyes that seemed to change color depending how the light changed in the room.

Those eyes made something primal in me bristle—they held too much knowledge, saw too deeply.

I kept my expression neutral despite the instinctive unease that crawled up my spine whenever he fixed that gaze on me.

He always seemed to have an aura around him that the others didn’t.

Maybe it was because he was the leader. The power that radiated from him wasn’t just physical—it was ancient, otherworldly.

Even I, who faced down threats daily without blinking, felt the weight of it pressing against my skin like cold fingers.

It was a subtle reminder that vampires weren’t the only apex predators in this city.

His fingers steepled beneath his chin as those color-shifting eyes dissected me. “What brings Angelo’s right hand to my doorstep? Trouble in paradise?”

I slid into a leather chair in front of his desk, the material creaking under my weight. My fingers drummed once against the armrest before I forced them still—a tell I couldn’t afford around these two. “I’m not the one that got married.”

“No, but I didn’t think that Angelo would allow his home to be unguarded.” A definite slur against me. His eyes glinted with challenge, testing weakness like a blade probing for soft spots.

I refused to be ruffled. My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice even, bored almost. “It’s guarded.

” Leaning forward slightly, my shoulders tensed despite my efforts to appear casual.

“With the wedding and the last battle with Balthazar, I wanted to know if you’ve heard anything about Joy DuPont.

” Her name felt different on my tongue than other names—heavier, more significant.

He glanced up at Lorcan, one pale eyebrow arching in silent communication. “Do you have information?”

Lorcan gave me a steely smile that would have a lesser man running the other way. His teeth flashed white against his dark features, predatory and cold. “I do, but it will cost you, enforcer.” He emphasized the title like it was something dirty.