Page 12 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Vlad’s face twisted into a frown as he faced Balthazar. “Why?”

“Because Enzo is coming, you mindless fool. He’ll bring an army here.”

I smiled through the agonizing pain. My brother. My enforcer. Even now, I could picture his determined face, his unwavering loyalty burning brighter than any flame. Enzowouldn’t just fight through hell to reach me—he’d burn it the ground and salt the ashes.

Balthazar’s fingers dug into Vlad’s shoulder like talons. “But at the palace, he won’t. You’ll have allies there. Even Enzo isn’t fool enough to storm the palace. Go now.”

The tiny seed of hope Serenity had planted inside me—with her gentle touch and whispered promises of escape—began to wither. Like a flower dying in the first cruel frost of winter, I felt it curling in on itself, leaving nothing but cold emptiness in its wake.

Magic crackled through the air, drawing my attention. I twisted against my chains, shoulder screaming in protest as I tried to look behind me, but the angle was impossible. When I turned back, Balthazar’s rage had melted into a smirk that chilled my blood.

Balthazar spoke in hushed whispers to Vlad. I couldn’t hear what he was saying even with my vampire hearing.

Their shadows danced on the stone walls in the flickering torchlight, making their forms seem larger, more monstrous. Balthazar’s silver rings glinted as he gestured emphatically, his perfectly manicured nails catching the light like tiny blades.

Anger spurred me on as I struggled against my bindings on the wall; the manacles dug into my wrists and my legs shook. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain. What was Balthazar doing to Serenity? Where was she? Was she somewhere in New Orleans? Or worse, in hell? I mumbled, not able to speak through my broken jaw. It came out garbled.

The taste of my own blood filled my mouth, copper and sweet. I grimaced—even after four hundred years as a vampire, tasting my own blood felt wrong, perverse. The enchanted silver seared my skin, its magic coiling through my body like a thousand serpents of ice. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the terror gripping my heart. The last time I’d seenSerenity, she’d willingly gone with Balthazar at St. Christopher’s Church in order to save me.

Vlad’s cold laugh echoed through the chamber, making my skin crawl. He turned toward me, his ancient eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Don’t look so glum, Angelo. Soon we’ll be leaving this place.” His accent carried the weight of centuries, each word deliberately chosen to twist the knife deeper.

Balthazar wrapped his fingers in my matted hair, his skin ice cold against my scalp. Blood from earlier wounds had dried there, making my hair stiff and brittle under his grip. “Don’t worry, Vampire King. I’ll take good care of your mate. Soon, very soon, you won’t recognize her.”

I hissed angrily between my pursed lips, the sound more animal than human. His mockery of my title was meant to diminish everything I’d built over the years in New Orleans, every alliance I’d forged to keep our kind from becoming the monsters humans feared.

He laughed, a sound like winter wind through dead branches, and slowly faded away into shadow—a rare gift among our kind that he flaunted at every opportunity. The darkness seemed to embrace him, eager to welcome its son home. As his form dissolved, he took my last shred of hope with him, leaving nothing but the echo of his laughter and the scent of grave dirt in the air.

Vlad unlocked one of my manacles. “We shouldn’t keep King Nico waiting. I’m sure he’ll be most anxious to show you his dungeon.”

I pulled against the chains and twisted, fighting through the pain. Every movement sent fresh agony through my broken jaw and silver-burned wrists, but I couldn’t stop—not while Serenity needed me. Then Vlad’s presence loomed behind me, his ancient power pressing against my skin like a physical weight.

His fangs sank into my neck, tearing through flesh and muscle without ceremony or mercy. He drank greedily, each pull of blood feeling like fire being siphoned from my veins. The world began to dim around the edges, gray creeping into my vision. As darkness slowly claimed me, I felt his cold hand gripping my shoulder, holding me in place as a father might hold a disobedient child. My eyes fluttered shut, my strength finally abandoned me, and I surrendered to oblivion.

But in that darkness, I heard Serenity—not with my ears, but in my mind, our bond transcending the barriers between realms. Her voice came from hell itself, carrying both love and desperation. Angelo, forgive me.

The words stabbed my heart. Why would she be asking for forgiveness? What had she done or what was she planning? Had Balthazar broken her spirit and now she was his puppet to kill whoever he wished, starting with her father? Could he possibly be an archangel? But which one? No, that wasn’t possible. But consciousness was already slipping away, leaving me with nothing but questions and the haunting echo of her voice.

Pain explodedthrough my skull with the force of a sledgehammer, wrenching me back to consciousness. My eyes snapped open as a guttural groan escaped my lips. I was sprawled out on a stone floor, every nerve screaming in protest. Cold air gripped me like a wet blanket, intensifying the agony pulsing behind my temples. I flattened my palms against the frigid stone and pushed myself up, my vision swimming as waves of nausea threatened to pull me back under.

Fuck, I was in Fandor Citadel—King Nico’s palace—but not as a guest. A prisoner in his dungeon.

No light flittered through a window. Only flickering torches cast eerie shadows.

I sat on a bench and awaited my fate. The dank cell reeked of rust and decay, its iron bars casting long shadows in the torchlight. Each breath sent sharp pain through my bruised ribs. I didn’t have to wait long.

Vlad approached the bars, his movements disjointed and wrong, like a painting brought to life by dark magic. Tendrils of black smoke curled around him, barely visible in the dim light. “I’ve spoken with King Nico. We can’t afford to have a rebellion. People need to accept Petar as their king?—”

My fists clenched, rage burning through me like acid. First my throne, now this betrayal? Petar had served under me, learned from me, only to seize power for himself. The position of king had been mine—my birthright, my destiny. And now this traitor, this former subordinate, would rule over my people?

I leaned my head against the cold stone wall, trying to find a position that didn’t make everything hurt. “No one will ever accept him.”

He ran his fingers along the bars, leaving trails of dark mist in their wake. “That’s where you come in. People need to know what happens when rules are disobeyed.”

“Rules?” I chuckled, even though it felt like daggers in my chest. “You’re on Balthazar’s side. He doesn’t have any rules.”

“He has rules.” Vlad’s voice carried an echo now, a second darker tone beneath his words. His eyes flickered between their normal green and solid black. “I just need to play the game to keep Julienne safe.” His fingers curled into fists at her name, knuckles white with strain, and the black smoke around him wavered for a moment. Balthazar knew exactly where to strike—holding Vlad’s mate hostage made him the perfect puppet.

Dark magic crawled over him like frost on glass, each twitch of his fingers and clench of his jaw a rebellion against its hold. That didn’t sound like what a demon would say.

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