Page 8 of Oath of Blood and Joy

The guard put his hand over the hilt of his sword. “What do you want, enforcer? You don’t have an appointment with the king.”

“I need to talk to him.” My voice was flat, the tone I reserved for people who were either obstacles or soon-to-be messages.

“Does Angelo know?”

I chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that made smart men nervous. “Tell me. If Keir was on his honeymoon, would you interrupt him to see if he had given his enforcer permission to talk to another king?”

They glanced at each other, their faces pale. Keir was just as lethal as Angelo, and just as skilled in the art of torture.The Unseelie made even the vampires look like amateurs. These guards knew the hierarchy—they were soldiers, I was a capo. In our world, that difference meant everything.

One took an involuntary step back, his hand dropping from his sword hilt. He grabbed his phone. The other swallowed hard enough that I could track the movement in his throat.

They knew my reputation too—Enzo Di Salvo, the shadow that fell before Angelo’s wrath. I wasn’t just a messenger; I was the last face many saw before they disappeared. The boogeyman. The way these guards avoided direct eye contact told me everything I needed to know: my reputation had preceded me.

“Keir, this is Ruin. Enzo Di Salvo is here to see you.” Ruin tracked my movements as if he was afraid I was about to launch into an attack, his fingers twitching at his side—the nervous habit of someone who’d seen too many quick deaths.

I gave him a surly smile reserved for enemies that tried to defy me. It never ended well. A cold satisfaction settled in my chest as I watched him squirm under my gaze. I’d cultivated that fear for decades, polished it like a weapon.

He shrugged, feigning indifference though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “No, he didn’t tell me.” He frowned but then nodded to the other guard who opened the gate with a reluctance that nearly made me laugh.

Keir had to be as curious as hell to find out why I was here. I had just seen him at the wedding, but I didn’t get to talk to him about Joy. The mere thought of her name sent an uncomfortable warmth through my chest—a feeling I wasn’t accustomed to and didn’t quite trust.

One of his henchmen met me at the door and escorted me to Keir’s office. His enforcer, Lorcan Blackthorn, stood behind him, his eyebrow cocked like Mr. Spock the moment I entered. The hatred pouring off him was almost palpable, like the metallic scent before a thunderstorm. Lorcan rubbed me the wrong waylike a constant thorn in my side, ever since I beat him in a fight and retrieved the magical Void Chain. The memory of his humiliation still burned in his eyes, feeding a grudge that had festered for years. The chain had the power to restrain any supernatural and bind their powers. We’d been at the cross end of the sword ever since—two predators circling, waiting for the other to show weakness.

His face had hardened into its usual expression of cool assessment, a permanent fixture that matched his short-cropped hair—a stark contrast to Keir’s flowing white locks that fell past his shoulders. Most of the Unseelie wore their hair long as a matter of tradition and pride; Lorcan’s cropped style stood out like a declaration. It wasn’t just a haircut but a calculated statement, a daily reminder to his king that he followed his own rules. A small defiance that spoke volumes.

The striped blue suit he wore looked like it had been painted onto him, too rigid and formal, the fabric barely moving as he shifted his weight. It practically screamed what I already knew—he was an uptight asshole who took himself far too seriously. The kind of man who thought a tailored suit could mask the predator underneath.

Keir studied me with his sharp blue eyes that seemed to change color depending how the light changed in the room. Those eyes made something primal in me bristle—they held too much knowledge, saw too deeply. I kept my expression neutral despite the instinctive unease that crawled up my spine whenever he fixed that gaze on me.

He always seemed to have an aura around him that the others didn’t. Maybe it was because he was the leader. The power that radiated from him wasn’t just physical—it was ancient, otherworldly. Even I, who faced down threats daily without blinking, felt the weight of it pressing against my skinlike cold fingers. It was a subtle reminder that vampires weren’t the only apex predators in this city.

His fingers steepled beneath his chin as those color-shifting eyes dissected me. “What brings Angelo’s right hand to my doorstep? Trouble in paradise?”

I slid into a leather chair in front of his desk, the material creaking under my weight. My fingers drummed once against the armrest before I forced them still—a tell I couldn’t afford around these two. “I’m not the one that got married.”

“No, but I didn’t think that Angelo would allow his home to be unguarded.” A definite slur against me. His eyes glinted with challenge, testing weakness like a blade probing for soft spots.

I refused to be ruffled. My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice even, bored almost. “It’s guarded.” Leaning forward slightly, my shoulders tensed despite my efforts to appear casual. “With the wedding and the last battle with Balthazar, I wanted to know if you’ve heard anything about Joy DuPont.” Her name felt different on my tongue than other names—heavier, more significant.

He glanced up at Lorcan, one pale eyebrow arching in silent communication. “Do you have information?”

Lorcan gave me a steely smile that would have a lesser man running the other way. His teeth flashed white against his dark features, predatory and cold. “I do, but it will cost you, enforcer.” He emphasized the title like it was something dirty.

The bastard was probably drooling over the Void Chain. My stomach knotted at the thought of giving up such a power weapon, but I kept my expression carved from stone. Angelo wouldn’t like it, but if I had to choose between Joy and the chain, there was only one choice. “It always does.”

He walked over toward the window and looked out as if he were afraid someone was listening. His reflection in the glassshowed a calculated smugness that made my fingers itch for my weapon. “Rumor has it that Simon’s having an auction tonight.”

I would rip anyone apart who even touched a single hair on Joy’s head. “That’s news to me. Why weren’t the vampires invited?”

Lorcan turned and leaned against the windowsill. “Such a pity, but we weren’t either.”

Keir met my gaze, his expression hardening with genuine disgust. “It’s a slave auction. We don’t barter for women. That kind of despicable trade falls strictly at Maximo Barone’s door.” For once, the disdain in his voice mirrored my own feelings.

It was true. The wolves, the vampires, and the Unseelie didn’t engage in human trafficking. We looked at it as something beneath us. I stiffened and my fangs lengthened at the mere mention—there were lines even monsters wouldn’t cross. We focused on extortion, art and antiquities theft, blood trade, information brokering and espionage, magical artifacts trade, mercenary services, and supernatural law and enforcement corruption. Our businesses were brutal but had a certain code—a distinction that suddenly seemed important as Joy’s face flashed in my mind.

It took everything I had learned over the centuries not to lose control. My vision edged with crimson as I fought down the beast within me, claws of rage scratching beneath my skin. “You think Barone is going to sell Joy?” The question came out like gravel, each word dragged through the restraint that kept me from tearing the room apart.

Lorcan shrugged, his eyes darkening, years of caution evident in his measured tone. “I don’t know, but it seems most likely. Simon hasn’t been forthcoming on this.” His eyes tracked me like a predator watching for weakness, hungry for any sign that I might crack.

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