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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ZAND

M orning came faster than I planned. I stood in my office staring down at the ancient Persian rug where Layla’s blood stained the fibers hours before. I traced my finger along the polished edge of my desk.

The aftermath of Layla’s execution left a lingering energy in the space.

It wasn’t a feeling of guilt, but something adjacent to it.

There was a sense of finality and the consequences of it.

I had my people looking for Layla’s one finger missing boyfriend.

If he’s found, I didn’t know if I should kill him because he knew too much.

Or keep him around to commemorate the late Layla Balke.

His death just seemed easier. If I’m lucky, he was already dead, and I didn’t have to decide either way.

I picked up my phone and scrolled to Teresa’s contact, saved simply as “1” from Marisol’s phone. It was time to get this over with. I was on a hot streak of death and destruction, and I didn’t want to lose momentum.

The phone rang three times before she answered. Her voice carried a false sweetness I once found charming so many years ago. “Alexander,” she hummed, using my full name like a weapon. “Calling to accept my generous offer?”

“In a manner of speaking.” I replied, purposely impersonal in my tone. “But first, I thought you should know. Layla won’t be sending you any more updates about my movements.”

The silence that followed was brief but revealing. Did Teresa really believe deep down that she was more clever than me? Did she not account for her plans falling apart?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She finally said.

“Don’t insult my intelligence.” I leaned back in my chair. “Layla confessed everything before her execution. The information she fed you about Chanel. About Cheboygan. About my security protocols.”

“Execution?” Teresa’s voice raised an octave, straining from shock that didn’t quite ring true. “You killed Layla? After four years of loyal service?”

“Loyal?” I laughed softly. “That’s an interesting way to describe someone who was reporting to my enemy.”

“Enemy, how torrid.”

“How accurate.” I responded.

“She was trying to protect someone she loved.” Teresa snapped, abandoning the pretense. Her words were designed to cut, to reopen old wounds from our shared past. Instead, they washed over me like tepid water.

“Yes. Something you wouldn’t understand. Absolutely no one loves you. Layla chose poorly. As did you, when you targeted Chanel.”

Teresa sighed, a theatrical sound. “This is becoming tedious, Zandy. Are we going to eliminate each other’s allies one by one? Soon there will be no one left standing but us.”

“That’s rather the point, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it’s time to end this.” She suggested. Her voice softened into something that might be mistaken for sincerity. “A truce. Just you and me, face to face. No violence.”

I said nothing, letting the silence stretch between us. We both know what “no violence” means in Teresa’s lexicon. It was a promise made to be broken at the first chance she got.

“Bring the nurse.” She added. “I can apologize to the both of you and leave this god forsaken town.”

“Bring the nurse.” I repeated. “You’re in no position to make demands.” I reminded her, though we both knew I’d agree.

This dance had been building to a crescendo since she first threatened Chanel, since she orchestrated Morgan’s death, and since she aligned herself with Marisol Lopez.

Teresa laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. “You took Marisol from me. I’ve taken something from you too. I want closure.”

“Fuck you. Fuck closure.”

“You asshole. You will be sorry. You got to see what I’ve done.”

A chill spread across my skin. “What else have you done?”

“Nothing yet.” She said, too quickly. “But I have plans that will make burning Marisol look like a child’s tantrum.”

“Fine. Where?” I asked, cutting through her threats. “Where do you want to meet?”

There was a pause. I could almost see her smile spreading, victorious and cruel. “Let’s meet by the Lakefront.”

“Where?”

“Belmont Harbor.”

My jaw tightened unwillingly. Of course, she would choose that spot.

It was a desolate stretch of Lake Michigan’s shoreline where I disposed of Lonzo Lopez’s body months ago.

The symbolism wasn’t subtle. She was telling me she knew what I’d done.

I’m sure her spy, Layla told her. How did Layla know?

It was clear there were gossipers in my ranks.

“On Recreation but not the Marina. After two.” Her voice was different now, businesslike. The negotiations were over. “Just you, the nurse. And as a show of good faith, no more than three of your people. I’ll bring the same. I don’t want you to think this is an ambush.”

“An Ambush.” I refrained from laughing. “I’ll be there.” I confirmed, knowing even as I spoke that we were both lying.

“Oh, and Zand?” Her voice turned saccharine again. “Don’t be late.”

The line went dead. I set the phone down.

Teresa’s choice of location wasn’t random.

She was telling me she knew about Lonzo.

But how much did she know? Did she know I ended his miserable existence the night he came for Chanel at her apartment?

Layla did me a true disservice. If I could kill her all over again, I would.

The door to my office opened, and I looked up to see Natasha entering.

Her face was professionally blank, as always.

I loved that about her. Behind her were Harlen and Morgan, both wearing a new change of clothes.

Their eyes were bright with the particular satisfaction that came from executing a traitor.

“It’s done.” Harlen reported unnecessarily. He had proven to me that he could get the job done.

“Good.” I rose from my chair, my decision already made. “We’re meeting Teresa tonight at 2 AM.”

Natasha’s posture shifted subtly. “Where?”

“The Lopez disposal site. Due to our traitor Layla, Teresa knows where I dumped his body.”

“Shit! She told her everything.” Natasha raged.

“Teresa believes I’m bringing only three vampires with me. Fuck her. I want everyone there—you, Donté, Josh, Marco, the best of our security team. And I want everyone armed with Cripo Glocks.”

Morgan stepped forward. She was leaning into her new role in intel. “You’re walking into a trap.” She volunteered.

“Of course I am,” I agreed. “And so is she.”

Harlen grinned. “This ends tonight, then.”

“It does.” I confirmed. “One way or another. I’m over this bullshit.”

“We should position people early.” Natasha suggested, already strategizing. “I can have snipers in place by midnight.”

“Make it happen.” I told her. “I want every advantage.”

As they began discussing tactical positions and weapon distribution. I sensed a presence at the door. I turned to find Chanel standing in the threshold. She looked well rested and refreshed. I should’ve been home a long time ago. I hadn’t realized it was late morning.

“You’re going after Teresa.” She said, not asking. She heard enough of our conversation to piece it together.

“Yes.” I admitted, knowing better than to lie to her. Not anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through.

“I’m coming with you.” Her voice was calm. My eyes glanced at the black diamond on her finger. It was the physical manifestation of our commitment to each other.

Harlen and Morgan exchanged glances. They expected me to refuse. Natasha’s face remained impassive, but I caught the slight lift of her eyebrow. Approval, perhaps, or surprise at Chanel’s boldness.

“I know it’s what Teresa wants. She wants me there.”

“She does.”

Chanel stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her. “That’s why I have to go. I’m tired of being the target, the prize, the victim. This is my fight, too.”

I watched her face. I was searching for fear or martyrdom. I found only determination. She was right, of course. This battle began because of Teresa’s obsession with destroying what I loved. Chanel had earned her place at the table.

“Then we prepare together.” I decided, extending my hand to her. “All of us.”

As Chanel’s warm fingers intertwined with mine, daylight was here now.

After sundown, the plan to meet with my nemesis would be only a few hours away.

Soon Teresa would no longer threaten what’s mine.

Soon my queen would stand beside me without fear.

Soon there would be vampire blood spilled in the Chicago streets.

I went back to the loft with Chanel to get a few hours of sleep.

I needed time to refresh. I needed to be in the best shape and headspace for the showdown at Belmont Harbor.

I allowed Natasha to do all the strategic planning.

She would take care of the logistics of our upcoming confrontation.

A few of my people were armed with Cripo Glocks, and Natasha had added a few more guns to my security staff.

They were already trained because Natasha was always one step ahead.