Page 7 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)

The Crimson Stage

Mako

The night was sharp around the edges, a dark and dangerous feeling. There was a heaviness in the air—as if the city was holding its breath.

Like a shadow, I moved through the underbelly of New Orleans—silent, patient, and pissed off. The Kings had rules about sticking your neck into Covenant business, but this wasn’t about rules anymore.

It was about patterns. Too many of them.

And patterns meant prey.

I’d spent the last forty-eight hours digging through the bones of the city—missing persons boards, blood dealers, whispered chains from exiled witches and half-mad familiars. Everyone had a similar story.

Girls gone missing. Mostly runaways. Orphans. No one the cops or society would miss—until Lily. From what Lyra had said, the cops were blowing off her sister’s disappearance. It made me wonder how many of the reported “runaways” were truly that.

They also had several things in common. All pretty.

All young. All human—or mostly human. What was disturbing was that a few were rumored to be what we on the dark side of the world termed “amplifiers” or possessing “legacy blood,” but none of those missing would be old enough to know what that meant.

They would have no idea they were walking gold mines.

Before, the Covenant minded its business, and we minded ours. If they were doing what I was afraid of, they had crossed a line and broken an ancient agreement.

Except the same thing kept coming up in the darker corners of the whispered underworld network—confirming my suspicions at every turn.

The Covenant was extremely busy. Only this time, I had a feeling they weren’t trafficking humans to be used as mere chattel.

We all knew they were behind ninety percent of the human trafficking that went on in the world.

This was different, though. I believed they were specifically seeking legacy blood carriers. That sent a jolt of nausea and rage through me.

If that was the case, the rumors that were being whispered were likely more than rumors.

The Crimson Auction was back.

It meant that Lyra was not safe—and she had no idea. It also meant I couldn’t protect her because it would involve giving away the knowledge that I’d inadvertently obtained with my little midnight visit to her bewitching existence.

* * *

I finally got a useful tip from a bear shifter named Kess—old, twitchy, and smoked clove cigarettes like they were oxygen.

“You want rumors, fine,” he rasped. “You didn’t hear it from me, D’Aragon. But they say the girls are being held at an undisclosed location until auction night… rumor has it that they already made the initial presentation in the old opera house.”

“Opera house?” I raised a brow.

“Yeah. Hollow’s End on the edge of New Orleans heading toward Red Hollow.

Burned out back in ‘91. No one had the desire or the money to rebuild an old opera house in the middle of nowhere.” He leaned in conspiratorially.

“Some say it’s cursed. Others say it’s the perfect place to sell blood with a melody.

” He wiggled his fingers through the air and cackled at his own attempt at a pun.

I’d never seen it, but I’d heard people talk about the historic building that had caught fire and been left to rot. I hadn’t paid enough attention to what the place had been because it hadn’t been important to me then.

“It’s all rumor, though,” he insisted as he chuckled. “No one would be that stupid.”

I didn’t press for more. Instead, I left two vials of nightshade and a blood-coin on the beat-up bar and vanished into the smoke that clouded the rundown bar that Kess frequented.

* * *

A quick internet search had revealed the story of when the place caught fire. For some reason, it didn’t have an address listed, though. It took Hack all of five minutes to track down a general location. Online aerial views showed mere glimpses of a structure overgrown by vines, weeds, and trees.

“This is the place,” Hack confirmed as he pointed out several identifying features of the layout.

Dexter, Crypt Keeper, and I took off as soon as we mapped a route and landmarks to look for. We found it after midnight.

After we’d killed our engines, we sat there staring at what remained of the old building.

“You sure it’s safe to walk in there?” Crypt asked as we sat there.

“No, but it’s not like a few crumbling beams can kill us,” I replied with a crooked grin.

He snorted. “Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Dexter shot out as he got off his bike.

“Fuck you,” Crypt muttered as we all made our way closer to the burned opening on the east side.

We all glanced around once we reached the stone foundation of the opera house.

The place looked like it had crawled out of the earth and begged to be forgotten. Gothic arches, rotting red drapes hanging like flayed skin, statues crumbled into prayer-like poses with their faces missing.

We stepped inside, boots crunching on broken glass, dust, and ash. It held a stench of decay.

But the rot wasn’t the worst part.

It was the music.

We looked at each other as if we were all questioning our sanity.

Faint, off-key notes drifted through the air. A violin, maybe. Something old. Something wrong.

As quietly as we could, we followed it down the ruined corridors until we reached the main auditorium and the stage. The eerie music stopped as if it had accomplished its task.

There, under a dead spotlight, was a massive auction block—polished black obsidian, veined with thin streaks of crimson that pulsed faintly.

Rows of velvet seats had been reupholstered in shadow.

Chains above the stage hung from the ceiling like chandeliers over a row of about a dozen or so short, obsidian platforms.

And painted on the stage backdrop was the sigil that, despite what I’d uncovered, I’d hoped not to see.

A golden and bejeweled chalice held by skeletal hands, overflowing with blood.

The Crimson Chalice Covenant. Their true mark.

“Fuck,” Dexter muttered, telling me he recognized it too.

“This isn’t just trafficking,” Crypt drawled ominously.

“This is curation,” I confirmed. What we were looking at was an elite, supernatural black market where humans weren’t just food—they were status symbols.

Now the rumors of the missing girls having certain traits made perfect sense. Legacy-blood humans. Virgins with psychic touch. Children of forbidden bloodlines.

After the small taste of Lyra the other night, I had felt invincible. It hadn’t taken me long to realize what I was tasting. Which meant her sister likely wasn’t a random abduction. These were calculated gatherings.

My fangs ached as my hands clenched with fury.

“Jesus,” Crypt breathed.

I could still smell them—faint traces of perfume and fear. As I slowly made my way closer to the stage, one scent caught me off guard. Familiar. Sharp.

Lyra’s scent.

No .

My dead heart began to race as I breathed deeply to determine where it was coming from. That in itself told me I’d seriously fucked up by going to her home that night—as if I didn’t already know. I hadn’t been able to stop myself, though. She’d been like a siren that I’d been unable to resist.

Unsuccessful at getting her out of my head with blood whiskey, I’d gone for a ride, only to find myself on the road that led to her house.

When I’d parked my bike at the end of her driveway and walked up, I’d told myself I was just checking to make sure the Covenant hadn’t gotten to her because of her snooping.

Then I’d fucked up—I’d gotten too close to her.

I’d been practically drunk on her scent alone.

Imagine my surprise when I’d practically taken her on her front porch.

Sex hadn’t interested me in ages. When you were on Earth as long as I was, it lost its appeal.

Sad, but true. Yet one taste of her kisses and I’d lost my mind.

My fangs had slid down, elongating hungrily, and I’d sunk them into the delicate flesh on her neck.

Her blood had washed over my tongue like a drug. When her orgasm hit her, I could taste it. It was like cinnamon and whiskey, and my head had spun. I’d never had anyone affect me like that.

Ever.

Before I’d lost the ability to make rational decisions, I’d withdrawn my fangs and sealed the openings. It was a shame to stem the flow of her delicious red aphrodisiac, but utterly necessary. It had also taken every ounce of my self-control—no wonder.

Shaking off the memory, I tamped down the frantic worry over a woman I barely knew that was clawing at my seams. Centering myself, I searched again for the scent I’d caught a whiff of. When I scented it again, I fought for calm. Then I frowned as disbelief slammed into me.

A deeper breath was followed by momentary relief.

No—not Lyra. Not quite. Similar. Younger.

Shit . My heart sank.

Lily. It had to be.

She’d been here and that was not good.

Dexter and Crypt followed me as I searched for the trail I was picking up. It grew stronger, and I crouched near the edge of the stage and found it—a faint streak of red. Not human blood. Not anymore. It had a shimmer to it. Branded blood.

That meant they’d marked her. Claimed her.

Holy fuck .

“Why does that smell like the chick from the other night?” Dexter asked, his tone full of trepidation.

“I think it’s her sister. She was obviously here. I was told they already had a showing. This proves it.” Swallowing the lump in my throat I refused to acknowledge, I pushed back the ancient memories that tried to flood my mind. Memories I’d done my damnedest to erase.

Slowly, I stood, every bone in my body tight with the kind of rage that had once led me to raze a French manor full of diabolical slavers two centuries ago for this very thing.

This confirmed it. They were doing it again. How they’d managed to keep it so quiet, I had no idea.

What I did know was that this time, the Covenant was going to burn.

My jaw popped as I clenched it. “Let’s go,” I told my brothers. We needed to do a helluva lot more digging to find out when their next auction would be held, and we needed to hurry. I would talk to Boomslang about posting someone here to keep watch for activity as well.

We emerged into the night just before dawn, dust on our boots and the taste of ash in my mouth. I lit a cigarette, even though it wouldn’t do shit for my nerves. I’d picked up the habit because it gave me something to do, though the nicotine did nothing for me.

“Are you okay?” Dexter asked me, his sharp gaze locking on the slight tremble of my hand as I lifted the cigarette to my lips.

“I’m fine,” I lied as I pulled out a burner phone and dialed one number.

Boomslang answered on the second ring. “You find her?”

As my president, I owed him the truth and my loyalty. So I told him that I agreed to help Lyra find her sister after I realized her disappearance was tied to the Crimson Chalice Covenant.

“Not yet. But we found the stage. Practically in the open. It’s almost as if they aren’t even trying to hide it. The Covenant’s getting bolder. But it’s worse than we thought. There are rumors of legacy blood.”

Boomslang’s voice dropped. “Shit. The Crimson Auction?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, dread settling in my gut.

“You going to tell the girl?” he asked. I knew he was referring to Lyra.

I stared at the opera house, still listening to the ghost-violin in my mind.

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “But if we’re going to war—and make no mistake, if we go after the Covenant, it’s going to be a war—we’re going to need the council. Wake the old bastards. We’re taking this to the table.”

“And Lyra? How are you going to keep her safe? Because the way she busted into the shop the other day tells me she won’t be happy to just sit at home waiting for news.” Boomslang waited quietly for my reply.

I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I didn’t know how to explain that her sister’s disappearance reminded me too much of the last woman I failed to save.

Nor did I want to admit that there was something about her that was bewitching me.

It was the only explanation for the draw I had to her.

“I’m going to collect her.”

“You’re what?” he practically shouted. “You don’t even know her! Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“It’s a long story that I can’t get into right now.”

“You better be prepared to spill when you get here,” he growled.

“Roger that, Prez.”

I ended the call, and we left the opera house behind. As the heavy night air whipped my hair around, I couldn’t contain my rage any longer. I twisted the throttle and shot off down the asphalt as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my back tire.

The Covenant had fucked up. They took someone who mattered again. No, I didn’t know Lily personally, but her sister… she was mine. It was going to cause a shitstorm of epic proportions when it got out, but I didn’t care.

Because this time, I wasn’t going to wait for orders. If the council wouldn’t back us, I didn’t give a single fuck.

This time, I’m going to burn the whole fucking stage down.

With every member of the Covenant staked to it.