Page 67 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

She cocked her eyebrow, a hint of hellfire flashing in her eyes. “I’ve been in hell, Angelo. I doubt this will be any worse than being Balthazar’s prisoner.”

“She’s right.” Enzo folded his arms across his chest, his centuries of tactical experience evident in his stern expression.

I gave him a sharp how-dare-you-defy-me glare, letting my power ripple through the air between us. I wasn’t accustomed to being challenged by my enforcer.

But he didn’t flinch. “What do you think Balthazar will do while you’re meeting Petar?” His soft voice conjured nightmarish visions—Balthazar dragging Serenity back to the depths of hell, hiding her in shadows so dark even my power couldn’t penetrate them. The thought made my heart constrict.

Dimitri’s fingers tightened around Gianna’s necklace, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips. “This would be exactly the kind of plan dear ol’ dad would be a part of.” His cockiness barely masked the lethal edge in his voice. “Don’t even think I’m staying behind. Though I have to say, your brilliant plan of walking into an obvious trap alone? Not your best work…Vampire King.”

“I happen to agree,” Vlad said, his ancient power rippling beneath his calm exterior. “I’m also bringing Julienne. I won’t let her out of my sight until I know Balthazar is trapped back in hell.” His eyes filled with compassion met mine. “I suggest you do the same with Serenity.”

I narrowed my eyes, a spark of desperate hope kindling in my chest. “Do you know of a spell that can trap Balthazar in hell?”

He broke out in a smile that held equal parts satisfaction and malice. “I don’t, but I have an ally that does.”

“The Archangel Michael?” The name itself seemed to make the air crackle with divine energy.

“Yes.” Vlad’s expression darkened with remembered violence. “I’m sure he knows we’ve all escaped and left carnage down there. His wrath won’t be satisfied until he’s convinced that Balthazar can’t cause any more mayhem.”

I just hoped the archangel didn’t decide that I needed to be locked up with Balthazar. The thought sent ice through my dead veins, but not for the obvious reasons. What Michael wouldn’t understand was that being locked up with Balthazar wouldn’t be my private hell—I’d survived that demon’s tortures before. No,being torn apart from Serenity again would break me in ways that no amount of hellfire ever could.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

Serenity

My heart thunderedagainst my ribs as I waited for Angelo’s response, acutely aware of how his arm trembled around my shoulders. The familiar scent of sandalwood and night air that clung to him did little to calm my nerves. His fingers dug almost painfully into my skin—not from anger, but from the raw fear of losing me.

“Vlad, will Raphael be with Michael?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Just saying their names sent electricity dancing across my shoulder blades where my wings—still so new, still so strange—flexed unconsciously. Power thrummed through me like a live wire, making the very air around us crackle with energy. It was intoxicating, this newfound strength, but terrifying in its intensity.

Vlad’s ancient eyes met mine, dark and fathomless as the centuries he’d witnessed. “Raphael usually fights along with Michael, so yes, he’ll probably be there.”

Angelo’s arm tightened around me. I pressed closer to his side, trying to convey without words that his protective instincts,while touching, couldn’t override what we both knew to be true—I had changed. The Nephilim blood flowing through my veins meant I was no longer just someone to be protected. I was a warrior now, whether he was ready to accept that or not.

“They will be looking for us to come with Angelo.” Enzo’s jaw tightened as he paced the stone floor. “Petar will have spies—most likely our possessed men—to see if we follow his command.”

My stomach churned at the thought of having to fight or possibly even kill Angelo’s men who he considered to be family.

An Unseelie guard burst through the heavy wooden doors. “Lord Keir, Trystan Hunter,” the guard’s voice echoed off the chamber walls, “he brings news.”

Trystan brushed past him, leaves and mud still clinging to his leather boots. The grim set of his mouth made my heart skip. Whatever news he carried, it wasn’t good. “We have another problem.” His hands clenched at his sides. “My trackers have found out that Petar is holding Prince Rocco at St. Louis Cathedral.”

I sucked in my breath as the memory of that night clawed its way back: Balthazar’s cruel smile, the sickening pull of magic as my body betrayed me, draining Rocco’s power against my will. My hands trembled and tears gathered in my eyes, hot with shame. Even now, I could feel the echo of his strength inside me, a constant reminder of what I’d been forced to do.

“Is he possessed again?” The words came out broken, barely a whisper. After what I’d done—what Balthazar had made me do—I hardly dared to hope.

Trystan shrugged. “I don’t know.”

My limbs went numb as the memory flooded back—my hands forced against the prince’s chest, that terrible pulling sensation as his power flowed into me, draining away his life force while his eyes dulled with each passing second. My mouthwent dry and a cold sweat broke across my skin. The phantom sensation of that stolen power still burned through my veins, foreign and wrong. What if Balthazar caught me and made me do that again to the prince? I couldn’t bear being turned into a parasite, feeding off the prince’s essence while screaming silently inside my own mind.

Their stares bored into me; Enzo’s sharp scrutiny, Angelo’s growing suspicion, Trystan’s confusion. Only Vlad’s expression remained carefully neutral. A flash of understanding crossed his face, and I wondered if Julienne had already told him the truth of that horrible night.

I bowed my head, unable to meet their eyes. “Balthazar?—”

“Balthazar what?” Angelo’s growl echoed off the walls, making me flinch.

My throat constricted painfully as the words I’d been dreading to speak finally spilled out. “He forced me... he forced me to drain Rocco’s power. I didn’t want to do it.” The admission tasted like poison in my mouth. I nearly drowned in a pool of guilt, the remorse rising like dark water around me, filling my lungs and clouding my vision until I could see nothing but my own failures reflected back at me.

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