Page 4 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

“He wanted revenge.” He paused, savoring the words like the whiskey in his glass. “The woman he loved took her own life.”

“Why did she do that?” The room suddenly felt colder, changing my skin into gooseflesh.

“She believed he was dead. Life without him…” He shrugged. “It held no meaning for her.”

“Why did she think that?” My voice had dropped to barely a whisper, dread creeping into my spine.

“Because someone told her he was deceased.” A smile crept across lips as he refilled his glass and his eyes glinted in the dim light like polished obsidian.

A chill settled deep in my bones. No, it couldn’t be… Balthazar had something to do with the death of Dracula’s first love? I had to know. “Did you tell her?”

“No, that wasn’t me.” He rolled the whiskey in his glass, watching it swirl. “Vlad had many enemies and they knew how to hurt him the most.”

“Did you go to Vlad to make this deal?” The question burned in my throat.

I watched Balthazar’s face for any flicker of reaction, any tell that might betray him. Even here in hell, surrounded by horrors, this mattered. The way his eyes shifted at Vlad’s name, the slight tension in his shoulders—these could be the difference between my survival and my end. And somewhere beneath my fear, a deeper ache: the shadow of a father I’d never known, his choices somehow leading me to this impossible moment. Every answer Balthazar gave redrew the map of my own history.

“No, I actually brought him here and made the proposition.” His satisfaction filled the air like smoke.

“Does Vlad know how to enter hell?” My pulse quickened with desperate hope.

Say yes say yes say yes

“He does, but he’s under my control.” His smile widened, teeth gleaming in the firelight. “I have him right where I want him. The deal is back on.”

Maybe there was a way to undo the deal again. Maybe if the deal was broken, I could get out of here. Vlad might be able toshow Angelo how to enter hell, if only I could figure out how my father did it… If he managed it once, maybe I could do it too. “How did my father break the deal?”

His eyes narrowed as he watched me, as if peeling back my thoughts layer by layer. I forced myself to hold his gaze.

“It won’t be broken this time.” His eyes darkened. “Last time, it was love. He listened to Dracula’s mate sprouting off all about love. He’s weak and has a soft heart. Then he healed Dracula. Something that I couldn’t abide.”

The pieces were starting to align, a puzzle with my own blood at its center. My father had somehow interfered with Balthazar’s plans—had chosen love over whatever bargain he’d struck. And now, here I was, paying the price for decisions made before I was born. The realization sent a chill through me despite hell’s oppressive heat.

I needed to understand my father—who he was, how he’d broken the deal. If I learned enough, maybe I could get word to Angelo. The question felt dangerous on my tongue, but I had to know, even if it meant finding out my father was a fallen angel—a demon. “Who is my father?”

Merriment flickered in his eyes, cruel and knowing. “You can’t guess?”

“No, I can’t. How would I know who he is, Balthazar?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, and I froze, horror washing over me. I’d just snapped at a demon lord in his own domain.

He cocked his eyebrow, his amusement turning dangerous. The message was clear: you dare to speak to me that way?

I swallowed hard as a tremor of fear rolled through me. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” The words came out barely above a whisper. Every second in this gilded prison reminded me how trapped I truly was. Even with my Nephilim strength and speed, escape seemed impossible. But there had to be a way—I needed to find Angelo and save Joy. There had to be a way out of hell.

Balthazar promised if I went with him, Angelo would be safe. But what if he lied? My stomach clenched and acid burned up my throat at the thought of what Vlad could be doing to him. I’d seen Vlad’s cruelty firsthand, seen the darkness in his eyes when he spoke of revenge. Images flashed through my mind—Angelo bleeding, broken, screaming. My hands trembled as I pressed them against the table. No. I couldn’t let my mind go there. Angelo was strong, a warrior. He’d survived centuries of battles. But against Vlad? A whimper escaped before I could stop it. I had to find him before it was too late.

He walked over to me and put his palm on my cheek. It took everything I had not to flinch. “I will give you a hint, Serenity. Your powers mimic his.”

I stepped back, pressing a hand against my racing heart. “Me? Do you mean he’s a healer?”

He took another sip of his drink, shadows deepening in his eyes. “Unfortunately, the best.” He cocked his head. “Do you know your angels?”

My mind raced back to the countless hours in Angelo’s library, poring over ancient texts. Angels possessed different abilities, each more extraordinary in their power, but one name kept surfacing in my thoughts. It couldn’t be. The possibility was too enormous, too life-altering to even consider. But I was done with Balthazar’s riddles, done with piecing together scraps of truth like a half-finished puzzle.

“Stop playing games.” I met his gaze as he finished his drink. “Is my father an archangel?”

The silence stretched between us. Balthazar set his empty glass down with deliberate care, the soft clink echoing in the quiet room. “Yes.”

Heat bloomed in my chest and rushed up my neck. My legs weakened, and the room began to tilt and blur at the edges. My mother had mated with an archangel. The thought circled back, its impossibility deepening with every return. My chest constricted, and I desperately wished for Angelo’s presence, for the steady comfort of his arms around me.

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