Page 41 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

Tears slid down my cheeks as I forced myself forward, following Shannon through the darkness. Real rescue or cruel trick—it didn’t matter. This was our chance to escape, and I was taking it. I’d rather die in these vents than spend another moment as Balthazar’s plaything.

Footsteps echoed behind me, each one making my heart stutter. Every instinct screamed at me to shove Shannon forward faster, but she suddenly stopped, her body sagging against the metal.

“Serenity,” she whispered, her voice thick with terror. “It’s a dead end. Another vent. Gage’s men. They’re on the other side.” Her eyes found mine in the dim light, wide with desperation. “I don’t want to die, Serenity.” Her voice was heartbreakingly small.

The world tilted sideways. Trapped. We were trapped between Balthazar and Gage’s wolves. My chest constricted, each breath coming shorter than the last as the metal wallsseemed to close in. Shannon’s face blurred in front of me; all I could see was her terror reflected back at me. Guilt consumed me. I’d led her right into this death trap, promising safety, promising escape?—

No. Focus.Think.There had to be a way out.

I glanced over my shoulder. A long shadow stretched across the vent entrance like reaching fingers. Trapped. We truly were trapped.

Shitshitshitshit

My muscles screamed as I wriggled in the narrow space, turning to face whatever was coming. If Balthazar wanted us, he’d have to fight. I’d die before I let him touch Shannon again.

Someone peered into the vent. “Serenity? Are you in there?”

Everything in me froze. That voice. That silhouette. It looked like Angelo, sounded like Angelo, but Balthazar was a master of illusions. How many times had he played with my mind already? Made me see things, believe things, only to twist the knife deeper when he revealed the truth?

I wanted so desperately to believe it was really Angelo. My body ached to move toward the voice and to safety. But fear held me in place like thick iron chains. I crouched there in the metal tunnel, trembling like a rabbit in a snare, caught between hope and terror. One wrong choice could doom us both.

Suddenly, the figure shifted—bones cracking, form expanding—into a massive black wolf. The beast filled the vent entrance, its breath fogging on the metal as it sniffed. Then it began squeezing into the tunnel, massive shoulders scraping the sides.

Oh god Oh god Oh god

Hope shattered in my chest, leaving nothing but jagged shards of terror. Not rescue. Not safety. Just another monster in this nightmare. My mind screamed at my body to move, to run, to do something other than freeze like a deer. The scrapingof fur against metal sent shivers down my spine as I scrambled backward, colliding with Shannon.

The impact knocked the air from my lungs, but my hands found her shoulders, pushing her back, trying to put as much distance between her and those gleaming teeth as possible.

She gasped, her fingers digging into my arm. “What are you doing? Oh shit, what is that thing?”

“Get back, get back,” I hissed between my teeth.

“I can’t. There’s no place to go.” Her terrified whimper shattered what was left of my hope.

Stupid. So stupid to think anyone was coming to save us. Now Shannon was going to die because I’d let myself believe in rescue, let myself hope that we weren’t alone.

The wolf’s breath came steamy on the metal, closer now. My muscles coiled tight as I dropped into a crouch, desperately channeling every fighting instinct I had, like a cougar facing down a bigger predator. Dumb, maybe—what could I really do against those teeth, those claws?—but I’d die before I let it reach Shannon. The metal walls pressed in around us as I watched death crawl closer in our prison of steel.

The creature was inches from my face now, close enough to tear out my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body seizing with terror. Balthazar. It had to be Balthazar. Any second now and I’d hear that silky laugh, feel that cold grip on my skin. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I thought they might crack. The memory of his touch, his hunger, sent bile rising in my throat. Not again not again not again. I couldn’t survive another round of his tender cruelty, his sweet poison.

Angelo, where are you?

“Serenity. I finally found you.” The voice was rough with emotion.

That spicy scent I knew so well hit me like a punch to the gut, flooding my senses with memories of safety that felt like home.My body responded instantly—pulse racing, skin tingling, every cell reaching for him. Warm breath against my skin. The metallic tang of fresh blood. A violent shudder ran through me. Could it really be...? My hands shook as I forced my eyes open, heart nearly stopping in my chest.

The wolf was gone, replaced by Angelo, his crimson gaze, his long dark hair falling around the face I’d dreamed of seeing again for what seemed like forever.

My fingers twitched forward, aching to touch him, to prove he was real and not another cruel trick of my desperate mind. But Balthazar’s deceptions had taught me the cost of hope. Trust meant death in this nightmare. Yet every instinct screamed that this was indeed Angelo—my Angelo—his scent wrapping around me like a familiar embrace, calling to something deep in my soul.

“Is it... Is it really you?” The words scraped past the tightness in my throat. My body trembled with the effort of holding back, caught between the desperate need to throw myself into his arms and the paralyzing fear that he’d transform into Balthazar the moment I did so.

“Take my hand.” He extended it toward me, patient, waiting.

I placed my shaking hand in his. If this was indeed Balthazar’s final cruel trick, at least I might buy Shannon some time. But that touch—I knew that touch. Warm, calloused fingers wrapped around mine, nothing like Balthazar’s icy caress that left poison in its wake. My whole body responded, a wave of recognition so powerful it nearly brought dropped me to my knees. Where Balthazar’s touch brought numbness and terror, this... this was life flooding back into a frozen limb. Painful and beautiful and real. Every point of contact burned with memories of safety, of nights spent wrapped in strong arms that protected instead of imprisoned.

He drew me out with careful movements, like I was something fragile and precious, not the broken, scramblingthing I’d become. Metal scraped against my back as I crawled toward the exit. When I looked up at his hard face, I saw the evidence of his path to me—blood staining his chin, his shirt torn and soaked crimson. He’d carved his way through anyone who stood between us. And his eyes…god, his eyes…held that mix of fury and tenderness that no one, not even Balthazar, could fake.

---