Page 2 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

Enzo nodded, drawing his blade with a whisper of steel. His eyes scanned every corner, every shadow. “I don’t like this, boss,” he muttered under his breath.

I didn’t either, but I kept it to myself.

I worked to keep my face impassive, but beneath my stony mask panic was rushing through me like wildfire. My fingers twitched, longing to tear through the mansion, to call out hername, to find her safe and unharmed. But I knew better. Any display of emotion, any hint of weakness, could be fatal—not just for me, but for Serenity and everyone under my protection.

The scent of blood grew stronger as I moved deeper into the house. Where was Serenity? Was Petar protecting her? If anything had happened to her, he would pay with his life.

Soft footsteps approached from behind, and Dimitri joined us. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with an uneasy look that matched our own. A glint of fear flashed in his eyes, no doubt at the idea of losing my sister. She was his life, just like Serenity was mine.

A soft whispered moan reached us, like thunder in the oppressive silence.

“Dimitri…”

Gianna!

Dimitri raced past us, drawing on his vampire speed. He could be heading into a trap, but no one could tell him anything—not when it concerned Gianna.

“Dimitri, wait!” I hissed. Too late. He had already disappeared into the depths of the mansion.

I exchanged a quick glance with Enzo, seeing my own tension mirrored in his eyes. We had to move fast. This might indeed be a trap, but we couldn’t let Dimitri walk into it alone.

As I cautiously followed Dimitri’s path, my thoughts were a chaotic mix of concern for Gianna, fear for Serenity, and a growing dread of what we might find. The scent of blood grew more pronounced with every step.

Enzo and I entered the living room. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, mixed with the lingering aroma of bacon and Elena’s famous beignets—a bizarre contrast of homely comfort and violent intrusion that made my stomach churn.

A vase lay shattered on the floor, jagged shards glinting in the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains. Water from the vase had pooled on the floor, seeping into the hardwood and leaving a dark stain that spread like a sinister omen. But I was sure that wasn’t what hurt my sister. Hitting her over the head with a vase wouldn’t take her out.

No, something else did this. The air felt heavy, oppressive, carrying an undercurrent of...dark magic? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I tasted the acrid remnants of powerful, malevolent energy on my tongue.

Dimitri was sitting on the antique leather couch, cradling Gianna in his arms. The crimson of her blood stood out starkly against the rich, dark leather as it slipped down the side of her temple. The cocky grin on his face that I’d grown so accustomed to had vanished entirely, leaving only an uneasiness that matched our own.

He gently pushed back her hair, his fingers trembling slightly—whether from fear or fury, I couldn’t have said. “Who did this to you?” His voice was low, dangerous, so different from his usual sarcastic tone. The fury vibrating through his words almost charged the very air around us.

His eyes burned with a cold fire as they flicked up to meet mine. “Whoever did this is dead,” he remarked to me in a lower tone, his voice deceptively calm. “They just don’t know it yet.”

“I... I’m not sure,” Gianna murmured, her usually melodious voice now weak and uncertain. “Elena was making breakfast, then she cried out. I came to investigate and… Someone hit me.” She rubbed her head, wincing.

I scanned the living room, my eyes darting from the overturned side table to the paintings hanging askew on the wall. The grandfather clock in the corner had stopped, its pendulum frozen mid-swing. It was as if time itself had pausedin this moment of crisis. “Where is Serenity?” I asked, unable to keep the note of desperation from my voice.

Gianna gave me a dazed look, her usually sharp eyes unfocused. “I don’t know,” she whispered, each word seeming to cost her effort.

Dimitri’s head snapped up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “Let me guess. Daddy Dearest is MIA. How positively shocking.” He arched an eyebrow, his tone biting. “I thought guarding damsels in distress was his specialty. But I guess I was wrong.”

Cold anger gripped me. My fangs lengthened, aching to rip someone’s throat out. “If you’re right and Petar has betrayed me, he’ll learn a new definition of pain.”

I turned to Enzo, keeping my face a mask of cold determination despite the fear clawing at my insides. “Search the house,” I ordered, my voice quiet. “They could still be here.”

A floorboard creaked upstairs.

In that instant, my predatory instincts took over. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time with caution or stealth. Whoever was up there had made a fatal mistake.

“Secure the perimeter,” I snarled to Enzo lethally.

Then I moved.

My vampire speed transformed the world into a blur. One moment I was at the foot of the stairs, the next I was on the landing, my preternatural senses scanning for threats. The scent of blood was stronger here, stoking a dangerous mix of fury and hunger within me.

I refused to skulk around my own home like prey. I was the predator here. The vampire king. And someone had dared to intrude on my territory and threaten what was mine.

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