Page 67 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

“Stupid?” Dimitri twirled Valentin’s bloodied medallion between his fingers, his smile all sharp edges and barely contained violence. “Let me spell this out for you, since you’re clearly having trouble with basic comprehension: My baby brother is being tortured by psychopaths while we’re standing around having strategy meetings.”

He spat the last words like poison, his eyes darkening with murderous intent. “What am I supposed to do—stand around playing Angelo’s good little soldier?” A dangerous laugh escaped him, one that promised blood and carnage. “Here’s my own strategy—I’m going to rip out some hearts, save my brother, and if anyone has a problem with that”—he spread his arms wide, smirk turning lethal—“feel free to try and stop me. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He closed his fist around the medallion, Valentin’s blood smearing across his palm. “I won’t let my brother die. And, spoiler, anyone who gets in my way risks being collateral damage.”

“No. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself.” Gianna moved to him with vampire swiftness, gripped his shirt in her fists and pressed her forehead against his chest. Her voice came out raw, desperate. “You’re my mate, Dimitri. You’re my husband.”

Someone grabbed my arm and fear exploded through me like ice water in my veins. The fingers locked around my bicep likeiron bands, brutal enough to make me gasp. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“The boss won’t be pleased.”

Enzo.

My muscles seized up, torn between the urge to struggle and the knowledge that fighting Enzo would be like trying to get out of a steel trap. He wasn’t just any vampire—he was old, as dangerous as Angelo. He was the kind of vampire that made other vampires nervous. He was fiercely loyal to Angelo and would carry out his bidding without question—and right now, I was exactly the kind of problem he was trained to handle.

Soft footsteps approached, the slow, deliberate tread of a hunter. Each step against the brick path echoed off the tombs with a steady rhythm that made my skin crawl. Not human footsteps—too smooth, too measured.

Enzo put his hand over my mouth and pressed me against the wall of the tomb, his body rigid with tension. His cold skin smelled of copper and earth, and that particular metallic scent that clung to vampires who’d recently fed. “Don’t say a word.” His low murmur was so quiet I barely heard it, though he was pressed right against me. Every muscle in his body had gone predator-still.

My heart thundered in my chest. I felt each beat would give us away, a drum announcing our location. The rough stone of the tomb scraped my back through my thin shirt, and my legs trembled with the effort of staying still. Sweat trickled down my spine despite the cold.

Please don’t be Balthazar Please don’t be Balthazar Please don’t be Balthazar

Dimitri and Gianna pressed themselves against the tomb, blending into the shadows. Her hand gripped his arm, white-knuckled, trying to anchor him in place. I could see the conflict warring in Dimitri’s eyes—the need to protect his mate wrestlingwith the urge to hunt whatever was coming. Gianna’s other hand pressed on his chest, right over his heart, a silent plea to stay put. The footsteps were getting closer, echoing off the stone walls of the crypts. The measured pace suggested that whoever—or whatever—was out there knew exactly where they were going.

“Open the door,” a male voice said.

My thundering heart stopped. I knew that voice. Louis. But it sounded more gravel than human. Like something was scraping the words across broken glass before releasing them, and whatever was wearing his skin hadn’t quite figured out how human voices were supposed to sound. The memory of the things moving under his skin made me want to gag. This creature wearing Louis’ face, using his voice—it was obscene.

Suddenly, some wolves stepped out of the darkness, and my heart nearly burst. They weren’t normal wolves—they were massive, their shoulders coming up to my chest, with eyes that gleamed with human intelligence. My legs trembled with the urge to run, but I forced myself to remain still.

As they drew closer, they growled and their eyes reflected red in the moonlight like burning coals. These weren’t Trystan’s wolves—their fur was matted with something dark that might have been blood, and they moved as if their joints had been put together backwards, bones cracking with each step. They smelled like wet dog mixed with something rotten, like meat left too long in the sun. Their teeth were too many and too sharp as they gleamed wetly in the darkness. Their red eyes fixed on me with hungry intelligence. These weren’t just corrupted wolves—they were wolves that had forgotten how to be wolves, or perhaps had never known. With each movement, their skin rippled and shifted, as if what was inside didn’t quite fit the shape it was wearing.

Shit, maybe they weren’t wolves at all. Maybe they were hellhounds. I remembered reading about those in one ofAngelo’s books—creatures that hunted damned souls, that could smell fear and sin and weakness. The kind of monsters that even demons kept on chains. The way they moved reminded me of the things crawling under Louis’ skin, like something dark and ancient playing at being normal and failing.

The wolves’ growls grew louder, a sound that vibrated in my chest and set my teeth on edge.

A woman suddenly cried out and fell to the ground quite close to me, the impact sending gravel skittering across the cemetery path. My heart lurched in my throat—Joy? No: this woman had blonde hair that gleamed pale in the moonlight. She groaned in pain, and the sound brought tears to my eyes. My hands trembled as I covered my mouth, fighting back the urge to scream.

She whimpered, the sound cutting straight through me, and my body moved before my brain could catch up. I couldn’t leave her here, couldn’t watch yet another person suffer. This woman might not be Joy, but her pain was equally real. And I could actually do something about it.

Enzo stepped in front of me gracefully, the movement liquid smooth, every muscle poised for attack. “Stay behind me.” His voice was a tomb door creaking open, promising darkness to anyone foolish enough to enter. I’d seen what he was capable of when he and Angelo had rescued me from Balthazar. He was just as dangerous as Angelo, perhaps even more because he hid it better. Where Angelo wore his power proudly like armor, Enzo kept his contained, like a serpent waiting to strike.

Louis stepped from around the crypt, and in the moonlight, I could see those things still moving under his skin, like snakes writhing beneath his flesh. My stomach lurched.

Enzo shifted almost imperceptibly beside me, and something in his demeanor made my blood run cold. Gone was the quiet enforcer I knew from Crescent Manor. “Let me make one thingperfectly clear. The lady isn’t going anywhere. And you…” His lips curved into a smile that spelled death. “You’re about to have a very unfortunate accident.”

I remembered what Balthazar said in the dream. He’d said I could heal Louis. I couldn’t let Enzo kill him. At least not yet. Not if I could heal him.

Angelo had said that some possessions ran too deep, changed their victims too much. But watching Louis - the man who’d let me stay at his house when I had nowhere else to go, who’d protected me from Freakie Freddie, who’d always bought me a birthday present when no one else did - standing there with those things moving under his skin... It was like watching something sacred being corrupted, those small acts of kindness twisted by whatever was puppeting his body.

Maybe Angelo was wrong. The thought crept in like hope, dangerous and tempting. My heart thundered, sending blood pumping through my veins. My power stirred underneath my skin, that familiar tingling warmth spreading through my chest, down my arms. Blue light formed around me, lighting me up like a Christmas tree in the darkness, but concealment didn’t matter now. I had to save him.

This was Louis. My Louis. The man who’d broken down a door to save me, who’d been there when I needed him most.

I had to try. Not just for me, but for Joy. I would never forgive myself or be able to face her if I did nothing. I couldn’t lose him to whatever darkness Balthazar had stuffed inside his skin. My power pulsed stronger, light gathering in my palms. If there was even a chance I could burn out whatever was wearing him like a suit... I had to take it. Even if I failed, at least Joy would know I tried to save the father she loved.

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