Page 13 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

“So what’s the game?”

His gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw the real Vlad struggling beneath the demon’s grip. “A public execution.”

My body went cold, every muscle locking up in terror. A public execution meant being burned alive, flesh melting from bone as the flames consumed you inch by inch. I’d seen it done before—vampires could take hours to die by fire, their immortal bodies fighting to heal even as they burned. The screams... the screams would echo across the citadel until the vampire’s vocal cords finally turned to ash.

I refused to show any fear and took a deep breath, though my hands trembled against my thighs. “When?”

“In two days. We need to round up your followers. They need to be present.” A spark of hope flickered in my chest. I knew my people. Enzo would be tearing the city apart to find a way to get me out of here.

Vlad leaned against the bars and folded his arms, the black smoke writhing around him like living shadows. “Along with the other kings.”

Tension crept across my shoulders as I caught the edge in his tone. “You’re inviting Trystan and Keir?”

“They need to realize that there is a new king.”

I couldn’t resist smiling despite the death sentence hanging over me. The truth slipped through his words like blood through water. “Meaning they haven’t accepted him?”

“You’re expendable, Angelo.”

“Are you sure my execution isn’t because Balthazar wants me out of the way so he can have Serenity?” My heart clenched at saying her name, at the thought of leaving her vulnerable to him.

Red flashed in Vlad’s black eyes and a loud hiss escaped his lips, the demon’s smoke churning violently around him. “Balthazar is perfectly capable of seducing that Nephilim.”

“Serenity will never mate with him. She belongs to me.” Despite the pain pumping through me, I pushed myself off the bench. Each step toward the bars sent fire through my bones, but I forced myself to stand tall. “If he hurts her, I will find a way to make him regret it.” The promise tasted like blood on my tongue.

“A broken-down vampire?” Vlad’s lip curled, the demon’s darkness making his sneer even more sinister. “I don’t think so.”

I smiled, letting my fangs show. Even weak as I was, I could still project the authority that had made me king. “Even a tortured vampire has friends; friends that would make Balthazar shake in his boots.” I left the threat hanging in the air between us, knowing Vlad would understand exactly who I meant.

Vlad narrowed his eyes, the black smoke coiling tighter around him like a threatened serpent. “Michael would never help you.”

“It wouldn’t be helping me so much as defeating Balthazar.” I gripped the bars to steady myself, my fingers aching from the effort of staying upright. The archangel’s name seemed to make the very air in the cell vibrate with power.

“You have no way to contact him.” The demon’s voice wavered slightly, uncertainty creeping in.

That wasn’t true. I had a way to contact the archangel, but the question was: would he answer? My fingers traced the hidden mark Michael had left on my skin, the one even Serenity didn’t know about. Hope and dread twisted together in my gut—calling on heaven’s most fearsome warrior was a desperate gamble, but I was running out of options.

Chapter

Seven

Enzo

Dimitriand I drove my Porsche through the bayou, the heavy air thick with the scent of moss and murky water. Spanish moss swayed like ghostly curtains in our headlights as we navigated the narrow road. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly the leather creaked in protest beneath my fingers. The hidden garage near theSangue Realeemerged from the darkness—a cleverly disguised structure that blended seamlessly with the surrounding vegetation. Dead cypress trees, strategically placed and reinforced, created a natural camouflage that would fool any passing vehicles. My stomach churned with anxiety—the familiar hiding spot now felt like a trap.

I parked in the carport near theSangue Reale. It was hidden behind several ancient oak trees that had Spanish moss clinging to them like pale funeral shrouds, making it difficult to spot the car. The thick canopy above blocked out nearly all sunlight, creating a perpetual twilight even at midday. The houseboat’s heavily tinted windows gleamed like black mirrors in the shadows, reflecting nothing of what lay within.

Dimitri got out of the car and slammed the door, the sound echoing across the water like a gunshot. He yanked his hoodie up over his head, a nervous habit he’d never quite kicked despite his father’s years of scolding about proper mafia appearance. “This is stupid. Like, next-level stupid,” he muttered as we headed toward the houseboat. “You really think the first place Dad’s gonna look isn’t gonna be his own territory?” His New Orleans accent slipped through stronger when he was stressed, another thing his father had tried and failed to train out of him.

I unlocked the sliding door and stepped inside the houseboat. It was one of my favorite places to relax when I got a chance. Some place I would love to take Joy. The gentle rocking of the boat against the dock was usually soothing, but tonight it only reminded me of how she moved through crowds on Bourbon Street, weaving between tourists with that easy grace of hers. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced east across the water, where the city lights shimmered like fallen stars. I could imagine her face seeing this view for the first time.

“There’s a million places where we could be hiding,” I said, trying to project more confidence than I felt. The distant sound of water lapping against the houseboat’s hull provided an ominous rhythm to our conversation. “It’s going to take him awhile to get to here. We need to figure out our next move. Both Trystan and Keir’s places will be watched.” The humid air clung to my skin as I spoke, making every movement feel heavy with the weight of my decision.

Dimitri moved to the antique bar cart with fluid grace, crystal decanter catching the dim light as he poured himself a generous glass of bourbon. The rich amber liquid swirled as he lifted it to his nose, inhaling the smoky aroma with exaggerated appreciation. “And so what is our next move?” His eyebrow arched with that infuriating cockiness that always meant trouble. He took a deliberate sip, savoring it before adding withmock cheerfulness, “We don’t have many allies at this point. Actually...” he ticked off on his fingers, “we have exactly zero allies, a psychotic father on our trail, and...”

He glanced at his watch. “About two hours before sunrise. But hey, at least the bourbon’s good.” The crystal tumbler clinked against his rings as he raised his glass in a contemptuous toast.

I paced back and forth across the worn floorboards, each step echoing my growing frustration. My hands twisted anxiously in front of me as our desperate situation clawed at my nerves. “We need to find Angelo. He’s the only one that can bring down Petar and stop this damn mess.”

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