Page 7

I pass through the quieter edges of the city, where the river laps against stone embankments, the rising sun casting long shadows across the wet pavement.

As the day breaks, I direction for buildings I know Ares owns.

I do believe he was still working over the last week, taking care of everything Augustus left on his shoulders.

Maybe there is still some logic in him and he will show up to work.

But as I ask at one building and then another, no one has seen Ares. I head to his office, but no one there has seen him either.

So, I keep looking.

Noon comes and goes. I don’t find Ares. The hour creeps past dinner time, and I still find no signs of him.

He’s not answering his phone, it goes straight to voicemail, obviously dead.

Evening sets on the city, and still, I can’t fucking find Ares.

Darkness descends on Manhattan, but I continue my search.

The South Street Seaport is mostly deserted this time of night. The historic buildings, once lively, now stand as dark silhouettes against the skyline. It feels like the perfect place to hunt for a ghost.

Ares is looking for other vampires to kill. It’s the only conclusion I can come to. Felix. Beth. Mike. Luciano. All vampires. All people that Ares has ripped apart, even if he has no idea he did it.

So, where else might he be looking for other vampires?

The only other vampires I know are Sysco and Harry, and they’re well aware of the danger they’re in. Where else is Ares going to look for other vampires?

Dammit. And James, Ares’ assistant. I need to warn him to stay far, far away from Ares.

And Clementine. But I trust Florence will keep her safe at all costs.

But as I search for Ares, as I comb through every street I can think of, something prickles along the back of my neck.

I feel eyes on me in the dark.

I hear the sounds of breathing, faint, but there.

I realize I’m not alone.

A prickle of awareness climbs up my spine, a whisper of instinct. Someone is watching me.

I stop in my tracks. The air around me stills. I listen.

I turn my head slightly. "You can come out," I call out, even as every muscle in my body tenses, ready for anything.

There’s silence for five whole seconds. Then, from the shadows, a figure steps into the dim light.

Giovanni.

His dark eyes rage with conflicting emotions—confusion, paired with disdain. He studies me, his expression twisting.

He knows what he did to me. He knows I should be dead.

"Impossible," he breathes, his gaze dragging over my body. Sizing me up. Looking for proof that I’m real.

I tilt my head. "Nice to see you too, Gio."

His lips curl back, a flash of sharp teeth. "No. It doesn’t… There’s no possible way. I gutted you." His voice is raw with disbelief, but fury swells beneath it like a tide ready to break.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. This is about to get bad very quickly. And this isn’t just going to be some little scuffle, either.

My stomach tightens. I don’t flinch, but the memory flashes bright and brutal—Gio’s blade slicing through me, the sickening heat of my own blood pouring onto the floor.

Gio’s gaze narrows, suspicion darkening his features. “What deal with the devil have you made? What demon stands in front of me now?”

“Considering what we are, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type to believe in the devil or demons,” I say. And I really shouldn’t bait the man, but suddenly, I’m feeling a little salty. Guess that’s what happens when the man who tried to kill you comes back with an attitude.

My words leave him looking more confused than ever when I say the word we .

But the look on his face shifts, the darkness in his eyes doubling.

He takes another step closer. “One of my people said they saw you today," he growls, stepping even closer.

“I told them that was impossible. I guess now I get to kill you twice.

I think it fair for the brutality Ares used on my Luciano. "

The air between us turns razor-sharp, and he moves, his eyes flashing brilliant red.

Fuck, vampires are fast. Gio lunges quicker than a striking snake. But now, because of his actions, I see every movement, I calculate every step he takes .

I can feel it humming beneath my skin. My new body is electric. Precision-forged.

I duck low under the arc of his swing, pivot off my back foot, and slam my elbow into his ribs. The blow lands clean—I feel the impact in my forearm—but it’s like hitting stone. He barely flinches.

He snarls and backhands me.

I twist with it, absorb the momentum, let it carry me into a shoulder roll. My boots scrape the damp pavement. I come up crouched and launch forward, feinting a jab before driving my knee up into his gut.

This time, he grunts.

“What the hell are you?” he growls, voice breathy.

I grin. “Stronger than I used to be.”

He lunges, grabbing me by the throat. I drive both thumbs into the soft tissue just under his jaw, and when his grip on me loosens, I wrench free. I twist, catch his arm, and throw him over my hip in a clean judo toss. He crashes to the pavement but rolls with it, back on his feet almost instantly.

Then he grabs something from the ground.

A rusted length of rebar. Bent at one end. Jagged.

“Seriously?” I breathe.

He swings it with both hands, and I’m too close — it slashes across my side, tearing through my shirt, biting deep.

I stagger back. Pain flares hot and sharp. I feel the metal dig into my ribs, feel it tear the muscle, even graze bone.

But almost as soon as I can even register the pain, it’s gone.

I blink down and watch in morbid fascination as the wound begins to knit itself shut right before my eyes. Muscle fiber coils back into place. Skin stretches, seals. There’s not even time for blood to spill.

Oh, hell yeah.

Giovanni sees the miracle as clearly as I do. His eyes widen. “What the hell?”

I shrug my shoulders back, squaring off with him. “Gio, you have to stop and talk to me. What Ares did… he had no control. He isn’t himself right now.”

“I saw the video footage with my own two eyes! I watched Ares do it!” Gio bellows as he lunges forward again.

Rage distorts his face. He roars and lunges again, his strikes wilder now, desperation in every movement. I evade, ducking under his attacks, moving like I was born for this.

But he’s relentless.

A fist connects with my jaw. My head snaps sideways, pain ricocheting through my skull. He’s stronger than I thought—his hits carry decades of experience. I stagger back, barely dodging his next strike.

“Gio, please, stop this!” I yell, feeling desperate. I know I can protect myself. I know he’s going to have a very, very difficult time killing me. But fuck, I don’t want us to beat each other to a bloody pulp. I need to get him to listen to me.

But he simply snarls and spins to face me again.

I lunge again. Low. Fast. I drop into a sweep and take his legs out from under him. He crashes hard, and I don’t give him a chance to recover. I’m on him in a blink, straddling his torso, fists driving down into his face.

Left. Right. Right again.

I feel cartilage crunch beneath my knuckles.

He growls, shoves up with both arms, tries to throw me off. I roll to the side and come back with a hook that sends him into the alley wall.

Brick shatters behind him.

He’s furious. Feral.

He lunges, claws out, but I drop under him, grab the back of his knee, and slam my palm up into his sternum as I rise. The force lifts him off the ground, just a few inches, but enough to stagger him.

Gio’s foot catches the back of mine, pulling my leg out from under me. He takes his moment and, with a snarl, he plows into me, sending me skidding across the pavement on my ass.

My hand whips out to stop the impact. Something beneath it rolls, and my fingers close around it. The very same rebar Gio sliced me with.

And, as we skid to a stop, as Gio’s fangs extend and he aims for my neck with a feral snarl, I react on instinct.

With deadly force, I shove that rebar deep into Gio’s chest.

There is a sickening snap. And then the sound of something wet and soft being pierced.

Giovanni’s body goes rigid. His dark eyes widen, something like disbelief flickering in them. At the same time, both our eyes slide down to the metal rod sticking out from his chest—right where his heart is.

I scoot back from beneath him as he kneels, looking down at the damage.

Giovanni tries to suck in a gasp, but the sound is wet and fractured. He blinks once, the look on his face stunned.

And then his body loses strength, and Gio slumps forward, falling flat on his face. The rebar pierces through his back as his own bodyweight drives it deeper.

His skin turns ashen. His chest does not rise and fall with breath.

Dead. Giovanni is dead.

Silence crashes down around me.

My hands are still curled into claws, shaking. My breath comes in sharp bursts. The scent of blood clings to the air. I stare down at his lifeless body, at the way the fight drained from his limbs in an instant.

I killed him.

I killed him.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

A wave of nausea surges up my throat. My pulse races.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t trying to kill this man. I just wanted him to stop. I just needed this to stop.

I stumble back, my mind spinning. Giovanni was powerful. Respected. An important man. A Baron.

And I just ended him.

My body still thrums with the high of the fight, the overwhelming power humming beneath my skin. But inside, something tightens. A pit forms in my stomach, something between horror and inevitability.

I’d never killed anyone as a human. But in just over twenty-four hours of being a vampire, I’ve ended a life.

Shit.

Shit.

Something stings the backs of my eyes.

Sirens sound in the distance, instantly ripping my eyes to scan the surrounding area. It’s doubtful they’re for me; there’s no one around to witness what I’ve just done, and there are sirens going off all the time in the city.

Still, I need to move.

But I can’t just leave him.

Panic claws at the edges of my mind, but I force it down. If the police find Giovanni, if they identify him, this becomes an investigation. The last thing we need is for any of us Barons to get tied to this death in any way.

My gaze snaps to the Hudson River, dark and endless beyond the South Street Seaport. No. That’s too final. His wife— his widow —his other children, they’re all going to want to bury him.

I inhale sharply, my senses hyper-attuned to everything around me—the sharp bite of blood, the weight of Giovanni’s lifeless body, the city pressing in.

I have to move fast .

I crouch and lift him effortlessly, my new strength making it easy despite the literal dead weight.

The sight of his slack face sends a fresh wave of nausea through me, but I push it down.

I carry him into the shadows, sticking to the darkest alleys, weaving through back streets until I reach a small, secluded parking garage.

No cameras. No foot traffic. I set his body down carefully behind a row of construction equipment that is so filthy and dusty, I would guess it’s been abandoned.

I kneel beside him, patting down his pockets with steady hands until I find his phone. My stomach twists as I hold the device up to his face, unlocking it with his own lifeless features.

The screen opens. It’s easy enough to navigate to his contacts. There, at the top of his favorites list, is Francesca’s name.

I tap her contact and type.

Your husband is at this location.

I send a pin along with the message.

I feel like I should say more. Give an apology, explain. But inciting Francesca to retaliation isn’t a good idea. Giving her any kind of indication as to who did this and why doesn’t do anyone any true good.

The moment it sends, reading delivered, I drop the phone onto his chest. I straighten, pulling my own phone out from my pocket. I stride off into the shadows as I start a group text to Sysco and Harry.

I swear I tried to stop it.

Gio came after me again. We fought, and he wouldn’t fucking listen to me. I was defending myself.

My hands feel like they should be shaking as I type out the multiple messages, but my new Made form holds me steady.

Gio is dead.

I took care of the body.

Fuck. I can’t believe I just typed out those words.

Ten seconds later, Sysco simply replies with expletives, following it with another text asking if I’m okay.

Harry’s response is simple.

I trust you did what you had to do.

My life is so off the rails right now.

I just confessed to killing a man, and these two incredibly powerful, incredibly important men have simply given me their support.

Because I’m one of them.

What fucking alternate universe am I living in?