Page 34 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

He flashed me a smile that would have melted most women’s hearts, all perfect teeth and practiced charm. But I’d seen those same lips stained with Shannon’s blood. Seen what lurked behind that polished mask.

“As you can see, I can have a gentle touch when I want to.” His words dripped with double meaning. “I can heal or harm as it suits me.”

I forced my lips into a smile, though it felt like stretching a wound. “So you won’t hurt Steve?”

“No.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “I have another mission for him.”

The blood drained from my face. “Mission?”

“Yes.” He snapped his fingers like he was calling a dog. “Here, Steve. Find another girl that works for Angelo and bring her to me.” His gaze cut to Petar, sharp as broken glass. “You. Go with him.”

I looked between the three of them—Balthazar’s smug satisfaction, Steve’s empty eyes, Petar’s barely contained fear. The pieces started falling into place, but I didn’t want to see the picture they made. “Wait.” I grabbed Steve’s arm, feeling nothing but cold flesh beneath my fingers. “What are you doing?”

Balthazar’s smile widened, savoring the moment like fine wine. “My darling Nephilim, surely you must realize that Steve is the one who has been supplying me with my toys.”

“Toys?” I gestured at Shannon still crumpled on the floor, her blood drying brown on her skin. “You mean like her?”

“Yes. Steve has been playing fetch.”

A gasp tore from my throat as I clapped my hands over my mouth. The room tilted as realization hit. “Did he...” The words felt like broken glass in my throat. “Did he take Joy?”

“That he did.”

My knees gave out and I collapsed, sobs wracking my body. The Steve I knew would have died protecting his sister. Would have fought armies bare-handed to keep her safe. That Steve was gone, replaced by this hollow-eyed puppet. “Is she... Is she dead?”

“Not at all.” His soft voice crashed through my head like a thunderclap. “Don’t you see? She’s the big carrot.” He paced around me in a slow circle, a shark scenting blood in the water.“So long as you do what I want, she lives. I’ve forbidden the one who summoned me from killing her.”

“Summoned you? You mean like a person?” Hope flickered—a name meant someone I could fight.

“More like one of the four mafia kings of New Orleans.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Which one?”

He waggled his finger like he was scolding a naughty child. “Ah, ah, ah. That would be telling.”

Behind him, Steve and Petar slipped out the door to go procure another victim. And somewhere in the city, Joy was alive but imprisoned, her fate tied to my obedience. The horror of it all twisted my soul, each revelation another burden I somehow had to bear.

I looked at Shannon’s broken form, then at the blood Balthazar had left on my skin. How many more would die before this game of his was done? And which mafia king was pulling the strings like a twisted puppeteer?

Chapter

Eighteen

Angelo

I slippedMoonfall inside my suit jacket, the sacred dagger’s weight comforting and familiar against my ribs. Such a beautiful, elegant thing, designed solely for one purpose—ending wolf shifters. The silver runes running along its hilt and blade burned cold through the fabric, a reminder of what I intended to do. Trystan would feel that cold soon enough, right before I drove it into his heart—but not before he told me where he and Balthazar were keeping Serenity.

Enzo lounged against the wall outside my secret room. He was trying to look casual, but I could smell the anticipation rolling off him, acrid as gunpowder. “Got it, boss?”

I pulled my jacket back, revealing the blade. “Trystan’s a dead man.” The words tasted like a sweet promise on my tongue.

Satisfying thoughts of cutting out Trystan’s heart kept clawing at my focus, but I forced myself to keep my mind on what needed to be done. I gave Enzo a fierce stare. “Are Elena and Gianna safe?”

“Yes. They are in the library. Luigi is guarding them.”

“Good.”

The library was one of the most secure rooms at Crescent Manor. No windows, just one heavy door, and layers of my strongest wards woven into every wall. They’d be fine.

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