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CHAPTER EIGHT

ZAND

M y armored beast drove through Chicago’s darkness.

I felt cloaked from the chaos in the luxury tank.

Chanel wanted me to stop driving around in my old Chevy while there was danger looming.

She asked me to drive the reinforced truck, and I complied.

I ditched the vintage Chevy to ease her worries, but I didn’t fear Teresa or Marisol.

Chanel cared, and I cared enough for her, to do as she requested.

With hands laid on the steering wheel, I drove with little effort.

The ride was so quiet and comfortable. I could sink into the leather and fall asleep.

Tonight, I didn’t have that luxury. My senses were enhanced, and my predatory nature was unlocked.

I scanned every crosswalk, each alleyway, and eyed each person I saw on the street because of the current threats I faced.

Teresa was still out there, but tonight’s hunt wasn’t about her.

Tonight belonged to Marisol Lopez. If Harlen had done his job, she would soon answer for her crimes against Chanel and Morgan’s late boyfriend.

I still hadn’t figured out how Marisol was introduced to Teresa.

Where could they have connected? It was still a mystery.

Even more pressing was how Teresa found the location of my condo in Cheboygan, Michigan.

The good news, I didn’t have to worry about Teresa killing anymore innocent women with the name Chanel Taylor.

Natasha’s associate at the Chicago Police Department had contacted every lady with that name and put them under some form of police protection.

Always on the job, Natasha made sure my Chanel was excluded from the others.

With a quick name and social security number change, my Chanel Taylor was now legally going by the name Vanessa Taylor.

It was an ode to one of Chanel’s favorite movies, Blade.

Vanessa was Blade’s mother in the movie franchise.

Natasha also made sure the Minnesota detectives weren’t aware of these random killings in Chicago.

I didn’t need detective Crowley and Jamison interfering in my plans.

I also didn’t need them to force Chanel into witness protection.

I get it. They were doing their jobs. But I needed them to go back to Minnesota.

If Marisol disappeared, they wouldn’t have any reason to be here in Chicago.

Without Lonzo or Marisol Lopez, their case would be closed.

The power of my vehicle felt like an extension of my body.

This truck was six thousand pounds of reinforced steel and bulletproof glass that surrounded me like a cocoon of security.

I had four vehicles custom-built two years ago when I realized Chicago would be my permanent home.

The windows were tinted so dark they were nearly opaque from the outside.

This allowed me to see out while preventing anyone from seeing in.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed I wasn’t being followed.

Not that I expected to be. I left The Castle at different times and in different vehicles to confuse anyone that dared to tail me.

Teresa was dangerous, but she wasn’t stupid.

Well, she was very stupid to go up against me.

After our confrontation at Club Bailar Caliente, she had to know I was going to take action.

She probably didn’t know I was hunting her allies one by one.

I knew my presence rattled her. She would be lying low, regrouping, and planning her next move. But for now, I had the advantage.

A few years ago, I reluctantly funded the science to create the Cripo Glock.

I doubted Natasha’s ability to produce a weapon that rendered a vampire powerless.

But now Natasha’s invention has changed everything.

Even before I was made, I was told for centuries killing another vampire required fire or decapitation with a dismembering of limbs.

All these forms of death were messy and risky methods that often left evidence behind.

Now, with a single pull of the trigger, I could incapacitate a vampire and end their life in a cleaner and more efficient way.

The power of this weapon was intoxicating, though I’d never admit that to anyone, not even Chanel.

I wanted to use the Glock one day. I wanted to feel that power.

If that made me a monster, I would have to wear the title.

My phone vibrated against the center console. The screen illuminated with Harlen’s name. I pressed the button on the steering wheel to activate the hands-free system.

“Brother,” I answered.

“It’s done.” Harlen’s voice filled the vehicle’s interior, clear through the high-end speakers. “The package is secured and ready for delivery.”

A tightness I hadn’t realized I was carrying released from between my shoulder blades. “Any complications?” I asked.

“Not one.” He replied. “The pretty boy played his part perfectly. She never suspected a thing.”

I made a sharp turn onto a less traveled street. “Where is she now?”

“I just dropped her off with Virgil. She’s wrapped up tighter than a mummy and completely immobilized. The serum worked exactly as Natasha said it would.”

“Is she conscious?” I asked, accelerating through a yellow streetlight.

“Her eyes are open, but she’s out.” He explained. “I wanted to make sure she was down, so I hit her twice in the back. She never saw me coming.”

“Good.”

“Here’s the proof.”

My phone buzzed against the console again. A text message came through. I picked up my phone to see the text message from Harlen with the picture attachment. I swiped to open it.

The photo appeared on my screen. A pic of Marisol Lopez with her body cocooned in white sheets and secured with silver duct tape.

Only her face was visible, and her eyes were half-open but vacant.

Her dark hair was fanned out around her head.

She looked nothing like the fierce, vengeful witch who partnered with Teresa to terrorize me and my people.

I recalled going to the hospital and seeing Chanel’s bruised body after Marisol attacked her. I had no compassion for this woman. There was nothing innocent about Marisol Lopez or what she’s done. I’m sure she wished she would’ve kept her ass in Minnesota.

“Hey, you got the picture?” Harlen asked as his voice cut through my thoughts.

“I see it.” I replied, zooming in on Marisol’s face. “Good work.”

A brick lifted of my chest. It was a nice, peaceful feeling of satisfaction. One down, one to go. Because the others didn’t matter much.

“Make sure she stays unconscious.” I instructed Harlen. “I don’t want her getting loose before I get there. Double check the restraints and shoot her again if you have to.”

“Already done.” Harlen assured me. “I gave her another dose of the serum after I got her over to Virgil. According to Natasha, she’ll be out for at least six more hours.”

“What about Morgan? Does she know what you’ve been up to?” I asked, thinking of our newest vampire and if we could trust her with secret information so early in her transformation.

There was a slight hesitation, then Harlen’s spoke. “She wanted to come out with me tonight. I told her you put me on a solo recon mission.”

“Yes, you should always blame me. She needs to understand that everything must go through me first.”

“I think she knows you’re at the top of the food chain.”

“How did she take it— you telling her she had to stay back?” I asked to get a read on her state of mind.

“She understood. I told her I’d call when I was done, and she could meet me at The Castle later.”

That was a smart move. Morgan might be a vampire now, but her humanity was still too fresh, her self-control was too new. Having her present for any violent acts could trigger her.

“Let’s hold off on telling Morgan about our plans for revenge. We need to only share with the people who need to know, and we are sure we can trust. I’m not saying we can’t trust her. I’m saying she needs time to adjust to her new normal.”

“I agree. I want to protect her.”

“And that is your job. You are her maker.” I rationalized. “I don’t want any more heartbreak for Chanel. She loves Morgan.”

“I love Morgan too.” Harlen said and surprised me.

“Seriously? You love her?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Congratulations.” I gave my brother what he needed, which was my approval. “Does she feel the same way about you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice trailed off.

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see. Her emotions are mixed up and amplified. Give her time.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Good. She wants to be with you. You’re her maker, and she doesn’t seem to blame you for her current situation. I think those are all good signs.”

“I think so too. She blames Teresa. She wants her dead.” Harlen exclaimed.

“We all do.”

“Did you get any intel on how Teresa learned about our location in Michigan?”

“No. I’m working on it, but as of now Natasha can’t figure out how she knew. It doesn’t look like Teresa followed you. Natasha believes she was there lying in wait, meaning she knew about the property in advance.”

“Shit! I’m sure we weren’t followed. It was almost like Teresa was there before we were.”

“Natasha agrees.” I added.

“I told Donté to bring Morgan to The Castle. She should be arriving soon.”

“Good, we need to keep her occupied. This has to be hard for her.”

“I think she’s coming around. She just needs some time to get used to being like us.”

“I’m sure she will. I have Donté looking after her.”

“Are you headed to Marisol?” He asked me.

“I’m going home to see Chanel first. I will get to Marisol before the serum wears off.”

“I just pulled up to The Castle. If I need to go shoot Marisol again, let me know. She’s there alone with Virgil and he’s not strapped.”

“I’ll call if I need you. But I’ll be there before she wakes up. Brother, you did a good job tonight.” I commended him.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay, I will text you if there is an emergency. Go and have fun with Morgan. Enjoy the win.”

“I will.” Harlen’s joy rang through his voice.

I ended the call and pressed harder on the accelerator. I sped up to merge onto Lake Shore Drive. Winning felt good. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was gaining ground against Teresa’s campaign of terror.

Marisol Lopez was about to discover the consequences of attacking my family.

And through her, Teresa would receive a message she couldn’t ignore.

Chicago was my territory, and I protected what was mine.

It didn’t matter that I was her maker, or that she was once my wife.

Go against me and nothing good comes of it.

I waved at Josh when I pulled into my guarded and secure garage. I took the elevator up to the loft. When I let myself inside, I walked into the kitchen. The digital clock on the microwave read 3:17 AM. I was home earlier than expected.

The picture of Marisol bound and waiting for me to kill had lifted a weight from my shoulders. It also made me hungry, but not for blood or vengeance.

I shed my suit jacket and carefully removed my Cripo Glock from its holster. I made my way through the darkened loft and upstairs toward the bedroom where Chanel slept.