Page 76 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Rather than a dramatic exit, Raphael’s departure was gentle. A white aura spun around him, swirling like moonlight on water. Then it changed into a white ball of pure light that grew smaller and smaller. It floated toward the clouds, a tiny star ascending to the heavens, until it disappeared from sight.

Angelo looked over at Enzo, his eyes gleaming with fierce determination. “We’ve got a wedding to plan. See to it that it gets done.” The command carried the full weight of the vampire mafia king—not a request, but an order that would reshape our futures.

Enzo smiled at me, unexpected tenderness breaking through his usual stoic expression. “As long as I get to give the bride away.” The words, coming from the vampire who had protected me like a father, made my heart swell.

I couldn’t speak as my throat constricted with emotion. Love and joy surged through me like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm me completely. My vision blurred with unshed tears as the full weight of this moment crashed over me. I was going to be his, not because he owned me or had claimed me as a possession, but because he wanted me to bear his name and be his wife.

Chapter

Forty-Three

Angelo

The archangels,Lucifer, and Balthazar had vanished, leaving me with the mess to clean up. My fangs lengthened involuntarily as bitter fury coursed through my veins. The first step was reclaiming Crescent Manor. I cracked my neck slowly, vampire power rippling beneath my skin with deadly promise. That wasn’t just property on a deed—it was the empire I’d built with blood and cunning, the sanctuary where I’d finally found love with Serenity. Every room held memories I refused to surrender to those parasites. Centuries as a mafia king had taught me patience, but seeing my domain defiled by possessed demons ignited something primal within me. I’d kill every single one of them to reclaim it, savoring each death as payment for their trespass. My territory. My rules.

And rule number one? No one takes what belongs to me and lives to boast about it. The demons would learn why even other vampires whispered my name with fear. Crescent Manor would soon live up to its name—my enemies’ blood would drip fromevery window frame and ooze from the walls. No one would ever challenge me again.

“Enzo, we need to take back Crescent Manor.” Inside, rage simmered beneath my controlled exterior—those demons had violated what was mine, and they would pay with their existence.

Enzo’s weathered face hardened into a mask of deadly focus. His eyes, cold as a winter night, gleamed with anticipation as he gave a single, sharp nod.

“Already counting the ways to make them suffer, boss?” he replied, voice low and graveled from years of giving orders nobody dared disobey. His massive frame shifted subtly into a combat stance, muscles coiling with predatory readiness beneath his blood-spattered suit. I watched his gaze methodically sweep the battlefield, assessing resources, calculating angles of attack—the mind of a tactician who’d orchestrated countless takeovers across centuries.

He rolled his shoulders, the movement deceptively casual, but I recognized the telltale sign of him preparing for violence. “Been waiting for this order since those filth first set foot on our ground.” His lips fashioned a smile that never reached his eyes. “I’m ready. One word from you, and I will smear those walls with whatever passes for demon insides.”

His hand drifted to the ornate dagger at his belt—the same weapon I’d seen him use to disembowel enemies with surgical precision. There was no impatience in his posture, only the absolute certainty of a predator who knew the hunt was already won.

Keir landed next to us, riding his harpies. Both he and his winged servants looked like they had taken a blood bath, their pale skin and clothing drenched crimson, the metallic scent of carnage clinging to them like perfume. My nostrils flared involuntarily at the smell.

“I must return home. I take it you have the rest in hand?” Keir’s eyes glittered with that dangerous fae arrogance that always set my teeth on edge.

I would have liked his help with seizing the manor, but he’d already contributed to the battle more than I’d expected. A flicker of grudging respect mingled with my frustration—an emotion I’d rather die than show him.

“Go home,” I replied, my tone deliberately neutral despite the storm of calculations racing through my mind.

“You owe me, Vampire King. I will not forget.” Shadows gathered at the Unseelie king’s feet, ripples of consequence that would eventually reach shore.

I pressed my lips tighter, biting back a retort or acknowledgment as cold dread settled in my gut. I bristled at owing Keir a debt, but nothing was ever free—not in our world, where favors were currency more valuable than gold. That debt would hang above my head like a sword on a thread, and we both knew it.

They leaped toward the sky and flew away from the battlefield, leaving me with the copper taste of borrowed victory in my mouth and the burden of obligation heavy on my shoulders.

Trystan approached us, still in wolf form. His magnificent white pelt now carried the brutal evidence of his valor—splotched with midnight demon residue and dappled with ruby droplets. Each step showed his exhaustion, yet the power in his massive frame remained undeniable. He shifted into a man before my eyes, that primal magic crackling in the air between us. His hair was tangled into wild knots, and deep claw marks scored across his chest—wounds that would have killed a mortal man. Yet he stood proud and true, shoulders squared despite the pain I could sense radiating from him. He was the wolf mafiaking for a reason—not easily taken down, not even by hell’s spawn.

He dragged his fingers through his matted hair, flecks of dried blood falling like macabre confetti. “I must take my pack home.” His voice bore the gravel of someone who had howled his throat raw. He dropped his arm, and something I rarely witnessed crept into his steel-blue eyes—sadness, raw and unfiltered. “We have wounded and need to bury our dead. You owe me, Vampire King.”

Debt number two settled on my shoulders like a cold shroud. Another bitter taste flooded my mouth, sharp as unripe persimmon, making me want to spit. First Keir, now Trystan—the victories of today were shackling me to obligations for tomorrow.

I didn’t answer him. There was no need to. The truth hung between us, obvious and immutable as the moon that called to his kind. Some debts required no acknowledgment to be binding.

He quickly shifted back into his wolf form, bones cracking and reshaping with fluid grace despite his injuries. Then he let loose a mournful moan that pierced something ancient within even my dead heart—a sound of loss and brotherhood that echoed across the blood-soaked earth. His pack answered from the shadows, their collective grief a symphony of primal sorrow. They sped into the woods as one body, leaving nothing but the ghost of their anguish lingering in the air.

Dimitri and Gianna were at my side, his arm possessively around her waist, pulling her close to him. While my sister leaned into him for support, exhaustion evident in the slump of her shoulders, Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with that dangerous combination of satisfaction and barely contained bloodlust I’d come to recognize. A sardonic smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he surveyed the aftermath of battle.

“Two debts in one day, brother. Your accounting ledger’s getting rather full,” he drawled, that familiar mocking edge in his voice failing to completely mask the genuine concern underneath. He absently wiped a streak of demon blood from his cheek, examining it with theatrical distaste before flicking it away. “I hope reclaiming your little mansion is worth becoming everyone’s favorite debtee.”

Gianna shot him a warning glance, but I caught the slight upward twitch of her lips—my sister had always been drawn to his dangerous charm, even when it was directed at her own blood. Dimitri merely responded with an innocent shrug that fooled no one, his body language casual yet I noted how he kept himself angled to protect her from any potential threat, his free hand never straying far from the weapon at his side.

“We’re with you,” Gianna said softly, her eyes meeting mine with the unwavering loyalty that had defined our relationship for centuries.

---