Page 65 of Chains of Blood and Darkness

Shards of glass littered the floor, glittering like fallen stars in the dim light. Some had briefly embedded themselves in the walls before ricocheting out again, leaving behind jagged holes that gaped like open wounds. The once-pristine hallway floors were now marred by deep cracks that split the planks, as if a giant’s fingernail had scratched through the very foundations of the manor.

The furniture lay scattered and broken, a testament to the violence of Serenity’s outburst. Coffee tables, end tables, and bookshelves had all been upended, their contents strewn across the floor. Some pieces had survived the onslaught, while others lay shattered beyond repair, their fragmented ruins mixing with the glass and debris.

As I took in the chaotic scene of destruction, my heart tightened with a mixture of sorrow and fear. Sorrow for Serenity’s pain, for the loss that had provoked such an extreme reaction. And fear for what this display of power could mean, not just for her, but for the delicate balance that existed between the supernatural factions in New Orleans.

If word got out about the raw, untamed power that coursed through Serenity’s veins, I knew she would be hunted for that power—just as I knew, with a fierce certainty, that I would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant going to war with the entire city.

Gianna sank down next to me, and fear settled in her eyes as she looked at Serenity. My Nephilim’s sobs were heartbreaking as they echoed throughout my home.

Elena was still on the floor, her hands covering her face, crying softly.

“Stay with her, Gianna.” I carefully unwound my arms from around Serenity.

Gianna nodded silently, cradling Serenity’s head against her shoulder, stroking her hair.

I shook with rage, my fangs lengthening as the primal urge to hunt and to kill surged through my veins. Whoever had done this to Joy, and thereby shattered Serenity’s heart into a million pieces, would pay with their life. I would trackthem down and make them suffer for every single shred of pain they had inflicted.

They would learn the true meaning of terror, the agony of having their still-beating heart ripped from their chest even as they watched. I would paint the streets of New Orleans red with their blood and send a message to anyone who dared to cross the Santi family and harm those under my protection.

I strode over grimly to Joy’s motionless body, my hand reaching out to turn her over. When I caught sight of her face, I hissed in surprise, yanking my hand back as if I had been burned. It wasn’t Joy lying there, her eyes wide and staring in frozen horror. It was Emily Bastion.

As I stared down at her lifeless body, a sense of dread settled over me like a heavy shroud. This was the fourth woman murdered in the French Quarter, her blood drained and her eyes wide with the horror of her final moments. And once again, the implication was that I was behind it.

I whirled around, my hands grabbing Serenity’s shoulders as I shook her hard, trying to break through the haze of grief and shock that consumed her. “Hush, Serenity,” I said, my fingers digging into her skin, my brow furrowed in intense concentration and my chest pressing against my pounding heart as I gazed at her, willing her to look at me. “It’s not Joy.”

Serenity choked back her sobs, confusion swirling in her lovely blue eyes. Her lower lip trembled, and she squeezed my forearm desperately, as if she were trying to anchor herself to reality. “It’s not?” she asked, her voice raspy and raw with emotion.

I shook my head, my sense of relief warring with the growing unease in the pit of my stomach. “No.”

Gianna gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh!”

Serenity stared at the lifeless body of the girl in shock and confusion, her eyes wide. She was transfixed by the gruesome sight, unable to tear her gaze away. “Then…who is it?”

“A girl I knew,” I said grimly. “Her name is…was…Emily Bastion.”

Lorenzo came rushing down the hallway toward us, his face pale and his eyes wide. “Angelo, what’s all this...?” he began, his voice trailing off as he took in the destruction that surrounded us.

“We’ll talk later,” I said, my tone clipped and harsh. “More importantly, did you find any evidence of who did this?”

Lorenzo shook his head, his expression grim. “Do you know who the girl is, at least?”

“Emily Bastion,” I replied shortly, my mind already racing with the implications of this new development.

Serenity looked around, her eyes filling with horror as she truly took in for the first time the shambles that had once been Crescent Manor. The evidence of what she had done, of the power she had unleashed in her grief, hit her like a physical blow.

“Did I...did I do this?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of awe and fear.

“I said later,” I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

Serenity flinched, cowering as if I had struck her. I felt a pang of guilt, but this was no time for comfort or softness. Ihad to act fast and contain the situation before it spiraled out of control.

I grabbed Lorenzo by the neck, my fingers tightening around his throat as I pulled him close. “You’ll tell no one of this,” I growled, my eyes boring into his.

Lorenzo nodded, his face turning purple as he struggled to breathe. “No, sir,” he choked out. “Of course not.”

I released him abruptly, watching as he staggered back, rubbing his bruised throat. “If you do,” I warned, my anger flowing through me like a raging river, “you’ll sign your own death warrant.”

Serenity had wrapped her arms around her knees and was rocking back and forth, gripped by the shock of what she had done. I didn’t have time to comfort her, as much as it killed me. My family’s world was falling apart.

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