Page 14 of Chains of Blood and Darkness

He became a blur as he crossed the room; the flick of a light switch seemed like an eternity in comparison. “Are you so sure about that?”

My heart thrashed in my chest like a wild animal desperate to escape. Oh, my god. How had he done that? I licked my lips nervously. “Yes. But even if they were real, based on what I’ve read, vampires can always heal their wounds. If you’re a vampire, why do you have red scratches on your face?”

“I got into a scrape with a wolf,” he purred, leaning in closer. “All the nightmares you have heard about—wolf shifters, Unseelie, Fae, witches, dragons, demons, vampires—we’re all real.”

He had to be insane. Those were just fairy tales and myths. What twisted game was he playing? Then it hit me that he hadn’t answered my question about why he hadn’t healed. Was he hiding something, or just plain lying?

“How long have I been here?” My voice was small, the question hanging between us.

“Two days,” he answered, leaning closer. “You’ve been unconscious. The diazepam Simon administered took its toll, along with certain...other factors.”

“Other factors?” I echoed, confusion lacing my voice.

He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “The process of healing you was not without its…complexities. But you’re safe now, Serenity. You’re in my home—Crescent Manor—in the French Quarter of New Orleans.”

I stood my ground, refusing to back down despite the fear churning in my gut. “Safe?” I spat. “I’ll only be safe when I’m out of here.”

His piercing green eyes locked onto mine, his gaze boring into me like a target. “No, you won’t. I wasn’t the only one interested in buying you, Serenity. The minute you step out of here, they’ll be after you.”

My throat tightened as fear nearly choked me. I reached up and rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the tension that was building. “This is just one big, fat fucking nightmare.” The frustration and despair in my voice didn’t light a bit of compassion in his cold eyes, which seemed to be able to see into my very soul.

Angelo’s intense gaze never faltered. “No nightmare. You’re here, Serenity, because you hold the key to something far greater than you can imagine.”

His use of my name felt intimate, like a lifeline to keep me grounded in a chaotic situation. But he wasn’t a lifeline; he was the enemy who had taken my precious freedom away and threatened to hurt the ones I held dear.

I broke my gaze from his steely one and allowed my eyes to wander around the lavish bedroom again, taking in every detail. There was a painting on the wall of a two-story structure with wrought-iron balconies adorned with trailing greenery and flickering gas lamps that cast a warm, inviting glow. As I stared at it, a sense of déjà vu washed over me. I had seen that building before...on television, maybe? Yes! That was Crimson Stakes on Bourbon Street, one of the many gambling houses Freaky Freddie frequented. And it was owned by someone called Angelo Santi.

My heart sank as realization set in. This man in front of me was the head of one of the most notorious Mafia families in the city. The mere mention of his name struck terror into hearts, his ruthlessness the stuff of legend, which had led to him being known as the Angel of Death. Every hair on my body stood on end as the horrifying connection clicked into place. “Wait, you’re Angelo Santi? You’re ruthless, evil,” I blurted. Fear shook my voice when I realized what I just said.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ah, so you have heard of me.”

“Are you going to kill me?” My resolve was shattering.

He cupped my cheek. While repulsed, I was too scared to move. “Not at all, Serenity. I need you.”

I swallowed the dread in my throat, wondering what he meant by that, aside from thinking I would be tastier than a McDonald’s Happy Meal.

He dropped his hand. “My servant, Madame Elena Moreau, will assist you. Don’t be foolish enough to think she will help you escape. She’s been with me for years and her loyalty is unwavering.”

He left me standing there, my back plastered against the bedroom wall, as I waited for Elena to come. God, she had to be a vampire too. She’d be a thousand times worse than Frances or Marsha.

I glanced around the room, looking for some kind of weapon. I picked up the wine glass, all set to throw it at her head. If Elena thought she could treat me like vampire chow, she’d be sorely disappointed.

A graceful figure swanned into the room, her silver hair styled in a chic bun and fastened with a single pearl pin. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a flowing red floral skirt, and her feet were clad in elegant red kitten heels. A warm smile played on her lips, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. She had a tattoo on her neck similar to Angelo’s.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle, I amMadameElena Moreau. Please, call me Elena,” she greeted me in a soft French accent. Her piercing blue eyes swept over me with motherly concern. “I apologize for leaving you in such a state, but your attire was beyond salvaging. The master had me order new clothes for you, and they have only just now arrived. I hope they will meet with your approval.”

I cleared my throat as I slowly put down the wine glass on a dresser. “Are you the one who undressed me?”

“Oui. The master insisted. Don’t worry, he didn’t come in here while I was cleaning you up. Chef is making quite a feast for you.” She headed over to a door and opened it,revealing a luxurious bathroom. “Would you like to shower before I bring the clothes in?” She gave me a sympathetic look. “I think it might make you feel better.” Her tone sounded genuine, but I wasn’t sure I could trust her.

I wished I had a blade to defend myself. I would feel a million times better. But then again, what would a blade do against vampires? I needed a stake, not a knife.

Misery rolled over me at my plight. I had no choice but to follow Elena’s suggestion. I was their prisoner, with no allies, and if I tried to escape, Angelo’s threat had been clear: I would condemn my best friend to a life of horrors or even worse, Angelo could kill her. His enemies had a way of disappearing. She was more than a sister. She was my savior who had helped me to escape Freddie’s clutches, and I would do anything to protect her—even if it meant staying in this nightmare willingly.

Chapter Seven

Angelo

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