Page 48 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

“Fight for Gianna.” My sister’s name resonated with a force beyond any compulsion—the power of family, of love, ofeverything worth surviving for. The moment her name left my lips, something sparked in Dimitri. His drinking transformed from desperate survival to fierce determination. Each pull at my wrist grew stronger, more demanding, like a man lost in the desert who had finally found an oasis.

I could feel his strength returning with every swallow of my ancient blood, could sense the death grip of mortality loosening its hold on him. In his desperate feeding, I felt echoes of his love for Gianna—the force that had melted centuries of ice around his heart, that had bound him to our family with ties stronger than blood or loyalty alone.

The white smoke seemed to respond to her name, twisting with renewed purpose as it slipped up his nostrils like ethereal serpents. Dimitri’s pull at my wrist transformed—no longer the weak sips of the dying, but deep, hungry draws that spoke of life returning. Then his eyelids suddenly lifted, revealing dark irises burning with awareness and an ancient predator’s hunger. I pulled my wrist away before he could take too much, relief flooding through me as I watched color return to his face.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Dimitri’s voice came out rough, but that insufferable look of amused defiance returned to his features as color flooded back into his face. “Sorry to disappoint, brother, but you’re stuck with me. Someone has to keep this family entertaining.” Despite his casual words, the way his eyes flickered with concern told me he knew exactly how close he’d come to true death—and exactly what it would have done to Gianna.

Enzo’s hand clasped my shoulder with the firm certainty of a soldier who’d seen worse battles. “Now what?” His voice was clipped, ready for orders.

I met his unwavering gaze, centuries of trust passing between us. “Tell me you found something in the crypt to heal Dracula.” I wiped Dimitri’s blood from my hands onto my already ruinedclothes, the evidence of our desperate healing attempt a stark reminder of what was at stake.

“We did—an amulet.” He squared his shoulders, the news delivered with the same efficiency he’d used to report family business. “It expels demons.”

“Then that’s our next move.” My entire body hummed with anticipation, every vampire instinct focused on the hunt to come.

Serenity’s presence haunted my senses—the phantom taste of her lips sweet on my tongue, the memory of her skin under my fingers, the sound of her heartbeat that had become my own personal symphony. Soon. So soon now. The thought of her trapped with Balthazar made my fangs ache with rage, but for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt the tide turning. We had a weapon. We had a chance. And I had centuries of violence at my disposal to make Balthazar regret ever touching what was mine.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Serenity

The air burned with intensity,changing from cold to hot as if heaven and hell were in a battle. No matter how much Balthazar wanted to pretend he was some kind of billionaire, his luxurious living room was a prison.

Forget about the leather couches, the antiques, the crystal.

It didn’t matter. This wasn’t a mansion in Beverly Hills or Malibu. It was hell.

And I was being forced to do things that would burn my mortal soul.

Poison sat in the carved obsidian oak chair, still bound, but her celestial aura created a pocket of cool resistance around her bound form. I couldn’t look away from her face—the betrayal in her eyes cut deeper than any blade.

“Please, forgive me.” I reached toward Poison but stopped short, my hand suspended in the space between us as if caught in an invisible barrier. I wasn’t sure if I was begging Poison’s forgiveness or Angelo’s.

Balthazar paced behind me, his expensive shoes clicking against the polished black stone floor. Each step echoed like a countdown. “Drain her now,” he commanded, and there was something in his voice I’d never heard before—urgency, yes, but beneath that, a tremor that could only be fear.

That was strange since fear was something I never thought he would possess. Arrogance, hate, anger, those were all him… but not fear. Was my father coming? Could he actually penetrate the gates of hell itself? The very foundations of Balthazar’s mansion seemed to tremble at the thought. One of Raphael’s finest sat bound before me, and if he was willing to risk her life...

Poison shifted in her chair, the binding audibly straining as she sat taller. Her aura intensified, emanating outward in expanding ripples of silver-white energy. Where this light intersected with the hellfire from the wall sconces it created a strange boundary zone—neither fully celestial nor infernal. The conflicting illumination painted the chamber in discordant patterns, as if the room itself couldn’t decide which power it belonged to.

I glanced at the hallway, wishing I would hear Julienne’s footsteps. If only she would wake. We might be able to combine on our strength to rush Balthazar long enough for Poison to escape. But the dark spell held her firmly in its grasp.

I was on my own.

Balthazar seized my hair, his fingernails scratching my scalp. “Do it now or Angelo suffers.”

My blood turned to ice. Not just alive—captured. Balthazar’s threat wasn’t abstract; he had Angelo in his grasp. The nightmare was worse than I’d imagined.

He pulled harder, nearly pulling the roots out of my head. “Now, Serenity.” He leaned closer and then hissed in my ear. “You don’t want to make me mad.”

I remembered what he had done to Shannon, forcing me to heal her each time he ripped her throat out. I didn’t want to have any more throats ripped out—or be forced to heal them.

Angelo’s face flashed in my mind. At least he was alive—far away from here—and that’s all that mattered. It was too dangerous for him to come here. That’s why I reluctantly raised my shaking palm and aimed it toward Poison. I turned my head away from her as something stirred in my gut, something powerful. Then cold swelled inside as if I had gotten a brain freeze like when I ate ice cream on a sweltering day.

Poison strained against her restraints, her celestial form trembling with barely contained energy. Her luminescence began to pulse rhythmically, like a heartbeat made of starlight. Where her radiance met the hellfire from the sconces, the air itself seemed to bend and distort, creating prismatic fractures in reality—tiny rifts where neither light nor darkness could claim dominance.

Her power was a hundred times stronger than Rocco’s vampire power had been. His had been like dipping my toe in a pool. This? This was like being thrown into an ocean of raw celestial energy. Poison’s power crashed through me, threatening to shred my very essence, each pulse of her angelic force making my nerves scream.

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