Page 20 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Balthazar’s lips curved into a smile that promised a nasty surprise. “Don’t worry love, it’s not your fallen king. No, the contract is for Enzo Di Salvo.”

“No!” The word tore from my throat. Enzo—who’d stood by Angelo through centuries, who’d become like a brother to us both. My heart slammed against my ribs as the room spun. “You can’t—I won’t let you?—”

The pain in my gut forgotten, I lurched forward, but Julienne’s grip held me back. Balthazar had just forced me to help him set up Enzo’s murder. The betrayal burned worse than any spell.

Chapter

Ten

Angelo

I wokeup on my cot to a splitting headache—three words pounding against my skull—Angelo, find me.

Her voice, always her voice, threading through my consciousness like a serpent wrapped in silk. Even though I ruled both shadow and syndicate, her presence could bring me to my knees. Me, who commanded armies of vampires and held the mortal criminal underworld in my grip, I was helpless before the echo of her words. Centuries of building my empire, of being feared across continents, across parishes, meant nothing in the face of my failure to protect her.

Guilt ate at me that I couldn’t find her and bring her home. It was my job to protect her. I had legions at my command, networks of informants stretching from Crescent Manor—my centuries-old mansion dominating Bourbon Street—to the darkest corners of New Orleans’ supernatural realm. From my balcony overlooking the pulsing heart of the French Quarter, I had built an empire. The Quarter’s oldest families, the witchesof the bayou, even some of the wolf and Unseelie kings’ subjects who could be bought—they had all feared my name.

But hell? Hell was beyond my reach, beyond any power I had ever wielded, and that’s where she was trapped now. It didn’t matter if I used every resource, called in every favor, tortured every wolf, human or Unseelie who might have known something—none of it would reach beyond the veil of death. She would remain beyond my reach, trapped in a realm where all my power, all my wealth, all my centuries of influence meant nothing.

What good was all this power, this crown of blood and shadow I’d spent centuries crafting, if I couldn’t save the one person who mattered? I imagined my subjects whispering behind closed doors, mocking how their mighty king had been reduced to hunting a single soul like a possessed man. They didn’t understand that every second of my immortal existence felt hollow without her.

Darkness filled my cell, thick and oppressive, a darkness I once commanded but now mocked me. Today was my last day. The thought should have terrified me, but all I felt was a hollow acceptance mingled with stubborn hope that refused to die. I had thought Enzo would have found a way to get me out of this hellhole by now—he’d never failed me before. Was he searching still, or had he met a similar fate? If he was free, he wouldn’t rest until he found me. Even now, he might be planning my rescue. Some debts can’t be paid with silver or blood, but loyalty like Enzo’s transcended even the deepest betrayals.

My fingers traced the rough stone walls, memorizing their texture one final time. Maybe if I was dead, I could get Serenity out of hell. I would gladly trade places with her—had tried to make that very bargain countless times since they took her. The demon lords only laughed, their amusement echoing through the nine circles.

My ledger was filled with death and blood, centuries of darkness painted in crimson strokes across time. But hers? Hers was innocent, pure as the morning light I had taken for granted all this time. I deserved to be in hell, punished for my sins—not my sweet Serenity. Not the woman who saw light in me when I had forgotten it existed.

The headache intensified, her voice growing stronger.

Angelo, find me. Find me. Find me.

What the hell was Balthazar doing to her? She sounded frightened or possibly in pain. My fists clenched at the thought, nails biting into my palms until blood welled. If I did go to hell, I would find Balthazar and make him pay for hurting her. I had tortured countless beings over the centuries, but what I would do to him would make those sessions look like mercy.

Dawn was approaching. I could feel it in my bones, in the ancient blood that grew sluggish in my veins. Soon the executioner would come, thinking the sunrise would be my end. They didn’t understand—death wasn’t my punishment.

Living without her was.

Vlad had told me that I would be burned at the stake then beheaded to ensure that I didn’t heal myself. The words had been delivered with a cruel smile, his own memories of such executions dancing in his ancient eyes. I just hoped they cut my head off with one strike. Over the centuries, I had witnessed countless burnings and beheadings—some I had even ordered myself, another sin to add to my ledger. If the sword or axe or even guillotine wasn’t sharp enough, the victim’s screams would echo across the courtyard as the blade hacked through flesh and bone, each strike a fresh horror. I had seen executions that should have taken seconds last minutes instead, the executioner’s arms growing tired as their victim’s suffering stretched on.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. How many had I killed with far less mercy? Perhaps this was justice—to die as so many of my victims had died, at the edge of a blade wielded by hands that cared nothing for precision or peace.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the stone floor. Vlad approached me, his polished boots clicking against the ancient stones with deliberate slowness. “I see you’re awake, Angelo. Ready to pay for your sins?”

I snorted and slowly approached the bars. “Like you don’t have any.”

“I’m not the one being judged—you are.” He tossed a bag of blood, letting it land just within my reach. “Drink up. This will be your last meal before your death.”

I glanced at the bag and the heavenly scent made my nostrils flare, my fangs instinctively extending despite my attempt to appear indifferent. “Chosen Blood?” The sacred blood freely given by humans who carried vampire blood in their veins but had never turned.

He smiled, that aristocratic smirk I’d always hated. “Fitting for a fallen king.”

I wanted to knock out his perfect teeth, watch them scatter across the floor like pearls. But if I had any hope of escaping, of finding Serenity, I had to remain calm. Chosen Blood would strengthen me—perhaps enough to survive what was coming. I wanted to drink in peace, savor these last precious drops of power, but Vlad stood there, watching me with those cold eyes. Like a man admiring his prized animal before the slaughter.

Not having a choice, I gave him the show he wanted. I ripped open the bag with my fangs, letting him see the predator he feared I was. The rich blood flooded my mouth, sweeter than any vintage wine, more potent than any mortal blood could ever be. I drank every last drop, making sure he watched as rivulets ofred stained my chin. Let him see the monster. Let him remember why they needed an army to bring me down.

“You’ll die at noon,” Vlad said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “The Chosen Blood will allow you to stay alive and endure the torture longer.”

He grinned, revealing his own fangs. “Among other things. Yours will not be a peaceful death, Angelo. Vampires, humans, wolves, and Unseelie must witness what happens if they do not accept the new vampire king.”

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