Page 25 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

I fixed Trystan with a stare that had made stronger men crumble. “You have until midnight tomorrow night to produceSerenity.” I stood straighter. “If not, I’ll order the Santi family to hunt down every single member of your pack.”

“Bring it, Santi.” Trystan’s lips pulled back in a feral grin. “My pack’s strong, and it’s been a while since we dined on bats.”

Keir stood, power rolling off him in waves. “This meeting is over.” His fingers curled against the ancient oak table, burning scorch marks into the wood as centuries of magic crackled in the air around him. “I will remind you that no one is to fight on this yacht. Otherwise, Lorcan will order the harpies to attack.” The threat was chilling. I’d seen what those winged nightmares could do to supernatural flesh.

One scratch from those talons would kill Dimitri and even leave Enzo and me bedridden for days. I couldn’t afford that kind of delay—not when every hour that passed was another hour Serenity remained missing.

I nodded and led Enzo and Dimitri out of the boardroom. The yacht had already glided back alongside the dock; the meeting had been so intense that I am sure not one of us had even noticed our journey around the Mississippi’s dark waters.

Trystan and Stark remained in the boardroom, no doubt held back by Keir. His was known for keeping his yacht pristine—not only by maintaining the polished wood and crystal, but also by proactively preventing bloodstains that might never wash out.

Our driver stood at attention as we descended the gangplank, the sleek black limousine a shadow in the New Orleans night. Dimitri slid in first, followed by me, and lastly Enzo—positioning that would help us fight if needed.

“I have a surprise for you.” Dimitri’s bruised face split into a predatory smile as he produced a cellphone. “Look what Gage slipped into my jacket pocket.”

My hand shot out with vampire speed, wrapping around his throat. “Are you lying?” Power thrummed beneath my fingers, ready to crush his windpipe.

“No, he’s telling the truth.” Enzo shifted to stand between us, one hand resting on his weapon while his eyes never left my face with the unwavering focus of a guard dog. “I searched him before we left. Thoroughly.”

I released Dimitri and flipped through the phone, each swipe of my finger revealing more of Trystan’s treachery—meeting locations, contacts, all captured in neat little files proving his betrayal that would burn Trystan’s empire to the ground. By tomorrow night, his pack would be nothing but ash and memories.

Chapter

Thirteen

Serenity

Balthazar had backedme into a corner, and I had been forced to accept his offer: train or watch everyone I love die.

Not much of a choice.

We were in a room in the plantation that was like a large, titanium cell. I couldn’t get out. The air was heavy with demonic energy, making my skin crawl and my blood burn.

We’d been at this since this morning, and all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but with Angelo’s life at stake, I wouldn’t give up. Every time exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, I pictured his face, remembered the warmth of his touch. I’d endure anything—even Balthazar twisting my gift to suit his demonic purposes—to keep him safe.

“Let us try again.” Balthazar prowled around me with liquid grace, each step measured and deliberate. “Your healing Enzo was pure instinct—wild, untamed. Like a child playing with matches.”

I frowned. “How did you know I healed Enzo?”

“Petar, of course. He’s quite the nice little mole. No, more like a rat…always sniffing around for information.”

I pressed my lips together tightly and curled my fingers into fists. I imagined all the way a rat could meet its end. Petar would regret sharing Angelo’s secrets. He would learn exactly how Angelo dealt with traitors.

He drew the curved blade across his forearm, watching the blood well up with the patience of a master teaching their craft. “I’ll teach you to hone that power to an inferno.”

He grabbed my wrist, forcing my palm over his wound. It felt…warped. With Enzo, healing him had been like diving into summer sunlight—warm, natural. This was like plunging into arctic waters. Where before my power had exploded through me like wildfire, now it lay coiled in my chest like a frozen serpent, refusing to flow.

“Don’t wait for it to come to you,” he commanded, his breath ice against my ear. “Reach for it. Grab it. Make it yours.”

I closed my eyes, searching for that familiar healing light, but his darkness pressed against my senses. My teeth chattered, not from power this time, but from the cold spreading through my veins. Everything in me screamed that this wasn’t right. With Enzo, the power had been pure and instinctive, a gift from my father. This felt like theft.

“Fight it all you want,” Balthazar chuckled darkly. “Your blood knows what it wants.” His grip tightened, sending icicles through my veins. “Stop resisting, Serenity. Show me what you’re capable of.”

His darkness surged against my defenses like a crashing wave, and something inside me cracked. Power flooded through the breach—not the warm rush that had healed Enzo, but something ancient, cold and hungry. My skin felt too tight, like it could barely contain this new energy crackling beneath its surface.

“Yes,” he hissed. “That’s it. Feel how the darkness calls to your light, how they hunger for each other.”

I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as his power and mine twisted together, creating something that was neither light nor dark but something entirely different and highly addictive. My hands began to glow with an eerie purple light, where before they’d shone pure gold.

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