Page 23 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Vlad nodded to the guards, his ancient eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Open the door.”

I wasn’t going to go peacefully. Even with chains binding me, every muscle in my body coiled tight, predator instincts taking over. The minute the door was unlocked and cracked open, I strained against my restraints, metal cutting into my flesh as I lunged forward with what little range I had. My vision tinted red with bloodlust.

Vlad stepped in calmly, just beyond my reach. I thrashed against the chains, the ancient metal groaning but holding firm. My fangs extended fully, snapping at air inches from his throat. I twisted my body, using the chains themselves as leverage to swing toward him, each movement calculated despite my rage. The guards scrambled back, their hearts thundering with fear—not of the chained vampire, but of what would happen if those chains somehow broke.

But he was five times stronger than me—my maker and the First Vampire. His fingers dug into my arms like cruel talons as he seized me. Before I could twist away, he slammed me against the wall hard enough to crack the concrete. Stars burst behind my eyes as his fingers wrapped around my neck, squeezing just enough to remind me of his power.

“Nice try, King.” His face shifted into a mask of cruel amusement, his voice dripping with centuries of arrogance. “But you’re no match for me.”

I slapped at his wrists, my movements growing weaker with each desperate attempt. Dark spots danced at the edges of my vision as he only tightened his grip around my neck, cutting off my air. My lungs burned, screaming for oxygen even thoughI didn’t need it to survive. The primal panic of being choked overwhelmed my rational mind.

“Chain him up,” Vlad said through my haze, his voice seeming to come from far away. The sound of rattling chains echoed in my ears, mixing with the pounding of my own heart.

Guards came up alongside, rough hands grabbing my arms. I tried to jerk away, but my strength was fading fast. They wrenched my wrists behind me, the cold bite of magical silver making me hiss in pain as they bound me. The bindings bit deep into my flesh, each link pulsing with ancient magic that drained my power like a siphon. My supernatural strength bled away until I felt as weak as a newborn.

Vlad released my throat only to snap another binding around my neck. The silver collar sent waves of nausea through me, my knees nearly buckling. I was chained like a dog, stripped of everything that made me the feared vampire king of New Orleans.

My maker picked up the chain and led me out of the cell as if I were his pet, a rapid dog he was about to put down. Each step was a fresh humiliation, the chain jingling with mocking cheerfulness against the silver collar.

I expected him to lead me outside, but instead we walked through Fandor Citadel. The familiar marble halls now felt like a gauntlet of shame. Curious eyes followed me from every corner—vampires, witches, and guards who had once bowed in my presence now watched my fall from power with barely concealed fascination. But no word was whispered or sound made. The silence pressed against my ears like a helmet, broken only by our footsteps and the endless rattling of my chains. It was strangely eerie, as if the whole citadel held its breath, waiting to witness my execution. The ruthlessness I had wielded for centuries had finally caught up with me.

Guards opened the door that led to the throne room. The vast chamber was lined with vampire gentry, their expensive suits and dresses a stark contrast to my chains and disheveled state. King Nico and Queen Mara sat on their respective thrones, regal and untouchable. Their older son and heir to the kingdom, Dante, stood like a statue on the other side of the king while Rocco, the younger one, mirrored his brother’s stance beside the queen.

I held my head high, centuries of pride refusing to let me cower beneath their calculating gazes. That’s when I saw it—the post nearest the king. My stomach twisted as I recognized the whipping post, chains dangling alongside it like metal serpents waiting to strike. My wounds had healed from the last beating and whipping I had received, but Vlad’s promise of torture echoed in my mind. Beheading and burning weren’t enough for them.

Vlad bowed slightly, his movement fluid with practiced grace. “Your majesties.” He yanked on my chain hard enough to snap my head forward, forcing me to my knees. Pain shot through my kneecaps as they cracked against the marble floor. “Bow before royalty, kur.”

I locked eyes with King Nico, drawing on every fragment of strength I had left, defiance burning through my veins.

“Good.” Vlad’s satisfaction dripped from every word. “Our special guests have arrived.”

I followed his gaze and hatred burned in my chest like hell’s fire. Petar and Balthazar entered the room with the confidence of victors, but they weren’t alone. Behind them strode Trystan and Keir—the traitors. My former allies must have already formed alliances with Petar.

But what stood between them tore out my heart—Gianna. Her hands were chained behind her back, her posture unnaturally stiff from the restraints. The way she winced witheach small movement told me the metal was cutting into her skin. Her face was pale with pain, but her eyes burned with defiance.

Mascara ran in black rivers down her cheeks, telling the story of her tears. She wore a red dress—one Petar must have forced her into, another way to showcase his control. Now it was splattered with dark stains of her own blood. Worst of all was her face: one eye swollen shut, the skin around it mottled purple and black. A silent scream lodged in my throat at the sight of her broken this way.

They surely didn’t mean that she was the one to die with me. My mind raced with desperate denial even as my enhanced hearing picked up her elevated heartbeat, the scent of her fear mixing with my own.

I pulled on my chains, the silver burning my wrists. “Vlad, not her.” My voice cracked with desperation.

He looked down at me, ancient eyes cold and merciless. “I told you before—he, not her. She’s only here to watch then swear her allegiance to Petar.”

I locked my muscles against the urge to strike, tendons straining beneath my skin. Blood trickled between my fingers, but I barely felt the pain. Gianna would never swear her loyalty to Petar—it wasn’t in her nature to bow, even if it meant her death. Just like me. The truth clutched my heart with icy fingers—her defiance would be her end, and like Serenity, there was nothing I could do to save her. Another name on the list of those I’d failed to protect, another soul I couldn’t shield from Petar’s cruelty.

Where was her pathetic husband, Dimitri, and my supposed loyal enforcer? The cowards. Were they going to allow her to die to save their own skins? Bitterness swelled inside me like a balloon threatening to burst, filling my chest with acid.

Three more figures entered the throne room, and my rage found new targets. Maximo Barone strutted in like he owned the place, his enforcer Blair Cummings at his heel like an obedient dog. But between them—my fangs descended at the sight—the bastards had Joy DuPont.

Her face was a mess of purple bruises, one eye swollen shut, her lip split and puffy. We had searched every corner of New Orleans for her, and here she was. The human king had sworn up and down he didn’t have her, but Enzo had been right all along. What would my enforcer do when he discovered this betrayal? The possessive rage I’d seen in Enzo’s eyes whenever Joy’s name came up told me everything I needed to know about his feelings for her.

Vlad seized me by the hair, wrenching my head back painfully. “I want him immobilized completely,” he told the guards, his voice deadly calm.

A broken sob echoed through the chamber—Gianna. Her pain seared me like a hot poker. She would probably be the only one who would cry for me. A small mercy that Serenity wouldn’t have to witness this.

Guards hauled me over to the post, their grips bruising. I walked calmly beside them, spine straight, refusing to show fear even as my heart hammered against my ribs. They ripped my tattered shirt off, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound that seemed to echo in the tense silence. Cold metal bit into my flesh as they locked my wrists over my head. I twisted around and peered over my shoulder, muscles already straining.

Vlad pulled a whip off his hip that I hadn’t even noticed had been there, the leather making a sinister whisper as it uncoiled. “Petar, you may have the honors.”

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