Page 24 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Petar ran his hand over the whip, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He flicked it against the marble floor, the sharp crackechoing through the chamber. “With pleasure. I have waited a long time to bring Angelo to his knees.”

If I escaped, Petar would rue the day that he dared to touch me. My fangs ached with the need to tear out his throat. Every lash would be repaid tenfold until he begged me for death—a mercy I wouldn’t grant him. I could already taste his fear, imagine his screams when I finally got my hands on him. He thought he was safe now, but I had centuries of practice in patience. And vampires never forgot their enemies.

“No.” Queen Mara’s voice rang out as she stood, regal even in her defiance. “This is enough. Nico, I will not have torture in my great hall. We have never spilled blood here.”

Nico rose from his throne, something unsettled in his movement. “Mara, I have explained this to you. Angelo must pay for his treason with his blood. He must be made an example of.” Fear threaded through his voice—a sound I’d never heard from the king. What was going on here?

“No, I won’t have it,” the queen said, her chin lifting slightly higher as she faced Balthazar.

“Is that so?” Balthazar’s grin spread like oil across water. “Do you think this is true, Rocco?”

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Rocco seized his mother’s arm, his eyes bleeding to solid black like spilled ink. “Mother, sit down and watch like a good little queen.” His voice carried an otherworldly echo.

Winter claimed my blood, one heartbeat at time. Oh, shit. He was possessed.

“How dare you talk to me that way?” Mara tried to wrench her arm free, her dignity crumbling.

The sound of flesh hitting marble cracked through the air as Rocco shoved her onto the floor. “Shut up, bitch.” The words came out distorted, inhuman.

Horror spread across Mara’s face as she looked over her shoulder at her younger son, blood trickling down her split lip.

Dante and Nico lunged forward, their battle cries echoing off the stone walls, but guards with obsidian eyes materialized, restraining them with supernatural strength. I yanked against my chains, the metal cutting into my wrists as I tried to break free. Blood trickled down my arms, but the enchanted bindings held fast. More gasps and cries of alarm filled the chamber as realization spread—demons had taken over.

“Rocco, what’s wrong with you?” Mara’s voice trembled, her hand reaching for her son’s face.

“Even royalty must learn to kneel before their betters,” Balthazar drawled, satisfaction dripping from every word. “Show your mother what happens to those who defy Petar’s will, Rocco.”

The crack of his hand across her face echoed like a gunshot. Blood sprayed across the marble as he split her cheek open, the ruby droplets a stark contrast against the white floor. “I said to shut up.” His boot connected with her stomach in a sickening thud, driving the air from her lungs. She crumpled further, gasping, her silk dress spreading around her like spilled wine.

“Please...” she wheezed, trying to crawl away from her own son. Rocco grabbed her hair, yanking her head back with inhuman strength.

“Rocco, no! Don’t do this!” A dark-haired woman—Selena, I thought—rushed toward him, her face twisted in anguish.

I threw myself forward against the chains again, ignoring the burn of metal slicing into my flesh. “Stop this, Balthazar! Your quarrel is with me!” A guard’s fist crashed into my jaw, snapping my head back. Blood filled my mouth as another blow drove me to my knees. Iron fingers dug into my shoulders, forcing me to watch what was about to unfold.

The room erupted in chaos as the true horror of what was unfolding became clear. Screams and shouts bounced off the walls as the vampire gentry realized their prince wasn’t just disobeying his mother—he was possessed by something far darker.

Balthazar held out his arms, his laughter echoing with an otherworldly resonance that made the marble columns vibrate. Darkness seemed to seep from his very presence, spreading across the floor like black ice.

“Now, all of you will see what happens when you defy Petar. Because if you defy Petar, you defy me.” His eyes blazed with hellfire, the temperature in the room plummeting. “And that will cost you, just like it is your queen and the former vampire king.” Power radiated from his words, each syllable a death sentence that made even the oldest vampires shrink back in terror.

Chapter

Thirteen

Enzo

Dimitriand I crouched in the underbrush around Fandor Citadel, sweat trickling down our backs as we waited for the signal. The hottest damn day in the bayou’s history, and here we were, pressed belly down in mud while flies and mosquitoes feasted on whatever skin they could find. Inside those stone walls, Keir and Trystan were playing their parts, cozying up to that arrogant bastard Petar. He’d believe anything if you stroked his ego enough.

Keir’s and Trystan’s men lay scattered through the underbrush around us. Trystan’s soldiers had shifted into their massive wolf forms, while Keir’s Unseelie warriors crouched with bows drawn or sword hilts gripped, their otherworldly eyes gleaming with barely contained bloodlust. Above, hidden in the thick canopy, Keir’s harpies perched like deadly sentinels, their leathery wings folded tight against their backs. Their talons could tear through armor like it was paper, which was exactly what we needed. One wrong move, one misplaced sound, and Angelo would be dead before we could reach him. The plan wassimple but dangerous: when chaos erupted, a harpy would dive through the carnage, snatch Angelo, and get him the hell out before Petar’s men could put a blade through him. Two more would swoop in for Keir and Trystan, assuming they survived long enough playing their roles.

But saving the three kings wasn’t enough. Dracula had to come with us, willing or not. Keir carried our ace in the hole: a dart gun loaded with serum from the Elder Dimension, potent enough to drop even the First Vampire in existence. One shot, and the almighty Dracula would fall like a stone. Keir swore he could catch and carry him before he hit the ground, claimed his fae strength could handle even a vampire’s dead weight. The harpies would do the rest, swooping them both to safety.

“If your fae muscles aren’t as impressive as you claim, we’re all screwed,” Dimitri had said when we planned this, and I still couldn’t shake the worry. But we were out of options. Dracula was the only one who knew how to open the gates of hell, the only one who could lead us back there. And we needed those gates open, no matter how much I hated the idea of trusting him. The fate of too many hung on this insane rescue mission—not just the kings, not just Angelo, but everyone who’d end up in Balthazar’s grip if we failed.

I glanced up at the nearest harpy, her skin the color of storm clouds. She caught my eye and gave a slight nod. They understood the stakes. This was our only shot at getting Angelo back alive, and if it failed... well, I tried not to think about that. We’d lost enough people to Petar’s games already.

The double doors groaned open and my heart slammed against my ribs. Out strutted Balthazar and Petar, looking every bit the powerful beings they thought they were. Balthazar moved like the rock god he pretended to be in the human world, all leather and dangerous grace, the demon beneath his skin barely contained. Beside him, Petar wore his stolen authority like hisdesigner suit—a cheap imitation of Angelo’s true power. My teeth clenched seeing him there, playing at being head of the family when he was nothing but a treacherous snake who’d tried to steal what Angelo had built.

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