Page 36 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course. Happy hunting.”

The call ended, but Rankin’s Mercedes remained—close enough to observe, far enough to deny any involvement if things went sideways at Trystan’s. Perfect positioning, as always. I had to admire his technique, even if being watched irritated me.

Enzo ran the Void Chain through his palm, the black metal links whispering against his skin. “You think he’s going to stay outside Trystan’s compound?”

I shrugged, watching Rankin’s Mercedes settle into position with military efficiency. “Depends on what happens at the front gate.” I could feel Moonfall’s cool presence against my ribs. “Rankin doesn’t want a war, but if things get ugly, he’ll move in. He’s our insurance, too—everyone’s witness that whatever happens next, Trystan started it.”

We finally pulled up to the front gate. The compound’s high walls loomed over us, multiple cameras tracking our every move. One of Trystan’s guards approached—a young wolf, trying too hard to look tough in his tactical gear. Please. I could smell his nerves from here.

I nodded and Pascal rolled down the window.

“Do you have an appointment?” The guard’s hand rested on his sidearm. As if bullets could stop me.

I pulled out my phone, dialing Trystan’s private number that he’d given me back when we were pretending to be civilized. “Open the damn gate, Trystan. We have business to discuss.” My voice held the kind of power that didn’t need to shout to be threatening.

“Meeting’s not until tonight,” he growled, but I heard the tension underneath. He knew what my early arrival meant.

“If you don’t open the gate…” I let each word fall like a stone. “Then I’ll assume you have something to hide and are declaring war.” It was a simple threat. Clean. The kind that couldn’t be misinterpreted.

The silence stretched out. I could almost see him weighing his options, calculating risks. His breathing was heavy through the phone—the wolf in him desperate to challenge, the king in him knowing better.

Finally, a growl. The line went dead.

The gate swung open with a mechanical whine. Trystan’s guard bared his teeth as we rolled past him. His attempt at menace was pathetic, barely a ripple in the ocean of threats I’d weathered.

Behind us, Rankin’s Mercedes pulled forward slightly, smooth as a shark following blood. He positioned himself for a clear view of whatever came next.

Enzo’s fingers tightened around the Void Chain. Dimitri’s smirk took on a hard edge. Even Pascal’s habitually impassive face showed a hint of anticipation.

Time to see if Trystan was smart enough to give up Serenity’s location, or if New Orleans was about to witness exactly what happened when someone took what belonged to me.

Chapter

Nineteen

Angelo

I forcedmyself to stay seated, though every instinct screamed to leap out of the limo. Control was everything in my world—it was what separated kings from rabid dogs. But with Serenity missing, my control was slipping through my fingers. My fingers drummed against my thighs, betraying the beast I was barely keeping caged.

“Well, well.” Dimitri’s lips curved into a smirk. “Look who’s decided to crash our little party. And here I thought Rankin had better things to do than follow us. Like, oh, I don’t know—run his own territory.” He lounged back in his seat, radiating that particular brand of dangerous amusement. “Should we send him an invitation next time? Maybe a fruit basket?”

Sarcasm dripped from his every word, but I caught the calculated gleam in his eyes as he watched Rankin’s car. Dimitri’s jokes had teeth sometimes.

Pascal parked the limousine in front of Trystan’s plantation mansion. The white Corinthian columns rose like bones against the sky, the whole place reeking of old money and territorialpride. He got out and opened the door for Enzo, who emerged with the Void Chain coiled in his hand like a sleeping snake.

I didn’t wait for the clearance ritual and scrambled out right after Enzo. My patience had died somewhere between Serenity’s disappearance and the discovery of Trystan’s betrayal. The beast in me was clawing at my control, demanding blood and revenge. One wrong move, and every shifter on this property would learn exactly why vampires had ruled New Orleans for centuries.

Dimitri slid out the other side, his usual smirk gone. Even he knew when to dial back the jokes.

Gage, Trystan’s enforcer, and Stalker, another of Trystan’s men, were waiting at the top of the stairs like particularly grim sentries. Their faces had that unique look reserved for men who knew they were guarding the wrong side but were in too deep to back out now.

Poor bastards.

Another car door whispered shut behind us and Keir and Lorcan materialized from their vehicle, moving with that predatory grace that marked the truly dangerous. My eyes snapped to the sky, searching for Lorcan’s harpies. The blue expanse looked clear except for a scattering of white clouds—which unfortunately was the perfect cover for those winged nightmares.

“This is a private party,” I said, fixing Keir with a glare that would have sent smarter men running.

“Apologies. Consider it officially crashed.” Keir met my gaze without flinching. Always did have more balls than sense.

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