Page 25 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Then came Trystan and Keir, their faces carved from stone, and behind them... Rocco. The prince. Blood stained the front of his expensive silk shirt, dark splatters marring the white fabric like crimson flowers. For a moment, my heart stopped—had someone attacked him? But then I saw his steady movements, the casual way he held himself, no hint of pain or injury. The truth hit me like a punch to the gut: that wasn’t his blood. Someone else’s life stained his clothes, yet he walked like a man without a care. My stomach twisted. He wasn’t supposed to be here and something about his presence felt terribly wrong.

But what came next sent ice through my blood: the king and his brother in chains, stumbling, beaten. And gods, the queen... they were dragging her like a broken doll, her face so swollen and bruised I barely recognized her. Her once-pristine dress was shredded and stained with blood.

Dimitri’s entire demeanor changed, the familiar smirk vanishing into something lethal. His fangs showed as he let out a low growl. “They really want to die today, don’t they?”

“No, no, no,” I whispered, bile rising in my throat. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Where was Angelo? And what the hell had happened to the royal family? Everything I’d planned, every careful detail, was crumbling before my eyes.

Then Maximo Barone slithered out and raw hatred surged through my veins. My vision went red at the edges as I watched that lying piece of shit move through the space as if it were his personal kingdom. And there—oh god—there was Joy beside him, her long dark hair falling forward to hide her face like a veil, her head bowed like a broken bird. Every fiber of my beingscreamed to launch myself over this brush and tear his throat out. My muscles coiled, ready to spring.

“If you want to save her, we have to get Angelo. He’s the key. He’s the only one strong enough to bring everybody down.”

Before I could argue, Gianna appeared, flanked by guards like some prisoner. Her red dress was splattered with dark stains that could only be blood. She stumbled forward, chains rattling with each step, her skin mottled with bruises. Despite the defeat haunting her eyes, she held her chin high, though I could see her hands trembling in their restraints. I heard Dimitri take a sharp intake of breath and his fangs flash in a reflexive snarl. The same desperate fury I felt for Joy was written all over his face.

I clutched his arm. “Same to you bro. I know this fucking sucks but we’ve got to stick to the plan. If we go in there guns blazing, they’ll take us down and kill Gianna and Joy.”

Finally Dracula emerged, and my breath caught in my throat. He was leading Angelo like a prized war trophy, but Angelo… god, Angelo could barely walk. Blood-soaked lashes crisscrossed his bare torso, his skin a canvas of cruelty. His dark hair was matted with crimson, and each stumbling step looked like agony. This wasn’t the powerful mafia king I knew—they’d tried to break him, to humiliate him before his own people.

Behind them came the rest of the upper echelon, a procession of pale faces and haunted eyes. Their shock was written in every rigid movement, every averted gaze. I could taste their fear in the air. Balthazar was practically preening at their horror—another show of power for the demon’s collection.

When the executioner appeared, his axe gleaming in the sunlight, my fingers dug so hard into the earth I felt my nails crack.

“And here I was thinking we’d at least get dinner and a show first,” Dimitri drawled, shooting me a look that was all predatorbeneath the smirk. “But no, they’re jumping straight to the beheading. How... predictable.”

Balthazar spread out his arms like some twisted Messiah, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “Now, my loyal subjects, we are about to start a new era. The first step was taking down Angelo. He defied us for too long. You will witness what happens if you disobey me. Those of you who are loyal to me will be well rewarded.”

“Did he forget to mention that will only cost you your soul?” Dimitri’s voice dripped with venom and dark amusement. “Typical demon sales pitch—all rewards, no fine print.”

The pieces clicked into place as I watched the scene unfold. This was Balthazar’s endgame—it always had been. Petar and Dracula were just minor figures in his plot, powerful enough to be useful but not enough to threaten him. They’d played right into his hands, thinking they were the puppet masters when they were really just the puppets.

My eyes found Maximo in the crowd, and cold certainty settled in my gut. While everyone else watched with barely concealed horror—even Dracula had gone ashen—Maximo stood there calm as still water. No fear, no shock, not even a hint of disgust at what was about to happen. He wasn’t just watching the show—he’d helped write the script.

Someone had sold us out, made a deal with a demon, and now I knew exactly who’d signed that contract in blood.

Balthazar stalked over to Angelo like a cat playing with its prey, his smile all teeth and malice. “Time for you to die, king. Don’t worry, your dear Serenity is in good hands.”

The mention of Serenity’s name lit a fire in Angelo’s eyes. He transformed from beaten prisoner to enraged predator in a heartbeat, surging forward with a snarl that was pure vampire fury. But Dracula was ready, yanking him down to his knees with brutal force. Blood from Angelo’s wounds spattered the ground.

“If we’re going to do this,” Dimitri muttered, his voice tight with lethal anticipation, “we’d better do it now. The king just used up his nine lives. Set the pyre on fire.” His fangs were showing, all pretense of casual sarcasm gone. The time for waiting was over.

“We need to wait for the signal.”

The words had barely left my mouth when sunlight caught Keir’s ring, sending a brilliant flash across the courtyard. For one heartbeat, everything was still.

Then hell broke loose.

Wolves erupted from the underbrush with bone-chilling howls, their massive forms launching through the air. Arrows whistled from the trees in deadly arcs, finding their marks in the guards holding Dante and the king. Bodies hit the ground as screams shattered the air. The crowd transformed into a panicked mob, people trampling each other in their desperate rush for the double doors.

I launched myself forward, every vampire instinct locked on Joy’s location. Twenty yards. Fifteen. Her scent pulled me through the chaos like a beacon. Above, harpies burst from the canopy with ear-splitting shrieks, their leathery wings churning the air into a cyclone. Dust and leaves whirled up in blinding clouds, adding to the chaos, but I didn’t need my eyes—I could feel her.

I caught glimpses of Keir’s Unseelie warriors emerging from the shadows, their blades already slick with blood. The freed king and his elder son were hustling the battered queen to safety, surrounded by a protective ring of wolf shifters as they disappeared into the tree line. Ten yards to Joy. Almost there.

Steve materialized from nowhere, his face twisted with demonic possession. The blade in his hand whispered death as it sliced toward my throat. I jerked back, feeling it kiss my skin—too close. “Move,” I snarled, but his eyes were black pools of hatred.

The air whooshed above us as harpies dove from the sky, snatching up Angelo, then Trystan. In my moment of distraction, Steve’s blade found its mark, slicing across my ribs. I hissed but pushed through the pain—five feet to Joy now. So close.

Steve flickered in and out of sight, his invisibility making him a lethal ghost. Another strike, another dodge. Every second fighting him was another second Joy slipped further away. Through the chaos, I saw Keir take down Dracula with the dart gun, hefting the First Vampire over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Balthazar’s rage transformed his face into something inhuman, cracks of hellfire gleaming beneath his skin. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, his voice distorting into something that made the air itself shiver. He seized Petar and Rocco by their throats, his fingers elongating into claws.

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