Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Gianna

The distant sound of people laughing and screaming outside the alley drifted into my ears, a haunting backdrop to the chaos that surrounded me. My body was a patchwork of pain, every bite and scratch a searing reminder of the wolves' brutality. The coppery smell of my own blood filled my nostrils, mingled with the fetid stench of the wolves' fur and the dank, rotten odors of the alley.

I lay there, my limbs twisted and broken, my once beautiful dress now blood-soaked and in tattered ruins. Each breath was a struggle, a rattling gasp that sent shockwaves of pain through my battered ribcage. The wolves snarled and snapped around me, their jaws dripping with my blood, their yellow eyes glinting with savage, triumphant hunger.

Through the haze of torment, a familiar sound suddenly cut through the air: the flapping of leathery wings, strong and steady, like a heartbeat of hope. It was a sound I knew well—vampire bats, my own kind, coming to my aid.

A surge of emotions welled up within me as fresh tears pricked my eyes, cutting through the grime and blood that were caked on my face. The knowledge that I was not alone, that my people were assisting me, gave me a tiny bit of strength, a small spark of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.

The wolves paused in their attack, their ears twitching as they, too, heard the approaching bats. Some whined and backed off, their tails tucked between their legs as they sensed the shift in power. Others snarled and snapped, their hackles rising as they prepared to meet this new threat head on.

I watched through tearful eyes as the bats descended upon the alley, a swirling, screeching mass of fury and vengeance. They dove and swooped, their razor-sharp teeth and claws tearing into the wolves' flesh, their high-pitched cries bouncing off the narrow walls.

The once-mighty wolves yelped and howled, now cowering and writhing under the onslaught of the vampire bats. The tide had turned, and with each passing second, I felt the flicker of hope grow stronger within me.

As the battle raged around me, I closed my eyes, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The pain was still there, a constant, throbbing ache that consumed every fiber of my being. But beneath it all, there was a fierce, unwavering determination to survive, to cling to life with every shred of strength that I still possessed .

The sound of the bats' wings was a reminder to me that even in my darkest hour, I was not alone. And armed with that knowledge, I found the will to hold on, to endure the unendurable, and to hope for a future beyond the blood-soaked horror of this moment.

The bats transformed into a group of vampires, their faces twisting in rage as they took in the scene before them. Leading the group was a massive black dire wolf, larger and more imposing than any of the wolves which had been attacking me. My heart leaped with a sudden surge of recognition and relief—it was Angelo, my brother.

The wolves scattered like frightened rats, their claws scrabbling on the cement as they fled down the alley. My attacker, the cruel-eyed man who had orchestrated this entire nightmare, leaped over my still-immobilized body, and I heard his heart pounding with fear as he raced to escape the wrath of the vampires.

Before I could take another agonized, gasping breath, the dire wolf had reached my side, his powerful form twisting and morphing until my brother stood before me, his face etched with anguish and concern. He gathered me into his brawny arms, his touch gentle despite the urgency of his movements. "Gianna, dear God," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I've got you now. You're safe."

I wanted to thank him, to apologize for my recklessness in leaving the house tonight, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I just let myself sink into his embrace, the warmth of his body a comforting shield against the horrors I had just endured. As my adrenaline spike began to wane, the reality of the full pain of my wounds crashed over me in relentless waves, and my eyes fluttered shut as I slipped into the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness.

I woke up in my own bed, the comforting scent of lavender and vanilla enveloping me like a warm cocoon. The soft mattress cradled my battered body, even though the slightest movement sent huge waves of pain rippling through my muscles. As my eyes fluttered open, I saw Elena Moreau sitting on the edge of my bed, her hand holding mine with a gentle, reassuring touch.

She blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering against the sting of unshed emotion. Her usually tidy bun was unkempt, gray strands pressing against her wet cheeks. The sight of her so distraught made my heart ache, and I wished I could find the words to comfort her.

"Gianna, ma chère, ma chère ," she whispered, her voice cracking with each syllable as she brought my hand to her lips, placing a tender kiss on my knuckles. The love and concern in her tone spread over me like a soothing balm, easing the pain that throbbed through every inch of my body.

I turned my head slightly, wincing from the effort, and saw Angelo sitting next to my bed. His face was stern, deep lines of worry were etched into his brow, but I could also see the relief in his eyes, and gratitude that I had survived the horrific ordeal .

"Gianna—" he began, but I cut him off, my voice rougher than sandpaper.

"I don't want to hear it, Angelo." A wave of frustration threatened to overwhelm me. The last thing I needed right now was another lecture from my brother. I knew full well that I had been reckless and put myself in danger. The weight of his disapproval was too much to bear in that moment.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the wave of grief. Salty streams carved paths down my face, mixing with the dried blood and filth that I could feel still clinging to my skin. Memories of the attack crashed over me like a tidal wave, the snarls of the wolves and the cruel laughter of my assailant echoing in my mind. I shuddered, feeling their teeth and claws raking across my flesh. If Angelo and the others hadn't come when they did, I would have just been another woman found dead in a New Orleans alley. The thought turned my blood cold.

"I'm not here to chew your ass, Gianna. I don't need to. We both know…" His voice trailed off and he seemed to struggle to keep control of his emotions. Wow. Angelo was always in control. This was a first.

Stella had been right about one thing—killing me would tear my brother apart. My impulsive rebellion against Angelo had been foolish. Even though he controlled my every move, it came from a place of love, and I loved him back.

Angelo cleared his throat. "Don't ever scare me like that again, Gianna. I couldn't bear to lose my sister."

Angelo's words hung in the air, the intensity of his emotions filling the room with a heavy silence. My chest constricted, each breath a struggle against the tightness gripping my lungs. Seeing my brother, always so strong and full of self-control, struggling to maintain his composure sent a fresh wave of pain stabbing through my chest.

I hesitated, my heart pounding against my ribs as I met his gaze. I knew telling him what Stella had said would put her life in danger, but he had to know the truth. "I have to tell you…" I began, my voice trembling slightly. "Stella, a wolf I met, told me not to tell anyone, especially you…about wolves wanting to hurt me, in order to hurt you."

His eyes darkened, a flicker of rage instantly sparking in their depths. "Stella who?" he demanded, his jaw tightening.

I bit my lip, tasting the dried blood. "McClain, I think," I managed to say. "She's a friend of Nancee's."

He nodded silently, his gaze turning cold and calculating. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, the plans for retribution taking shape in his mind.

"Stella…was warning me, I think. Not threatening me," I added quickly, my words tumbling out in a rush. I wanted to make it clear that she wasn't the enemy, that she had tried to help me.

I searched his face for any sign of understanding or compassion, but his expression remained tense and unreadable. The silence stretched out between us, heavy with unspoken fears.

I licked my dry lips, tasting the coppery tang of blood that still lingered on them. It wasn't my own blood, but the rare and potent Chosen Blood. Unlike regular human blood, Chosen Blood came from a select group of humans who had a unique, centuries-old bond with our kind. When consumed, it not only enhanced a vampire's strength and power but helped to heal them if they were injured. Elena must have given it to me.

For some reason, though, my pain remained, a constant, searing agony that consumed every nerve ending in my body. I gritted my teeth, my hands clenching into fists as I tried to ride out the waves of torment that crashed over me. I hadn't healed, despite the blood I had consumed. The wolfsbane elixir must be even more powerful than Chosen Blood, its vicious poison still coursing through my veins like liquid fire.

I gasped for air, my lungs straining with each labored breath. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my skin clammy and feverish as my body fought against the insidious toxin in my system. The agony pulsing through me nearly drove me mad, a relentless, all-consuming torture that left me writhing and whimpering in my bed. I wanted to scream, to tear at my flesh until the pain subsided, but I knew it would be useless.

Black spots danced before my eyes, and I fought to stay awake. I didn't want to fall asleep and dream about the attack.

"I have a target on my back, don't I? Because I'm your sister?" My voice was barely above a whisper, but the words echoed in the stillness of the room.

"Yes." Angelo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasped his hands together and held my gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "No more running off, Gianna. It's vital that you remain within these walls until Enzo and his team find out who was responsible for this attack. I promise you, they'll never hurt you again."

The unspoken threat behind his words turned my blood cold. Angelo meant they would be dead, and he would be the one to make sure of it personally.

I reached out, my hand trembling as I squeezed his fingers. "You didn't kill Jacques, did you?" I asked, the question more a plea, a desperate hope that I hadn't caused the death of someone I cared about.

"Not yet." Angelo's soft voice held a dangerous edge, a hint that Jacques's days were perhaps numbered.

I struggled to sit up, ignoring the searing pain that immediately shot through my body when I moved. "Please don't, Angelo. It wasn't his fault. I lied to him. I told him I had a migraine, then I snuck out the window." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, my hands trembling uncontrollably as I clutched at his hand.

Angelo set his jaw firmly, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort of holding back his anger. I could see the conflict in his eyes, hard and unyielding, the warring desires to protect me and to exact revenge on those who had failed to keep me safe, as I searched his face for any sign of mercy.

"Jacques is family, Angelo. Please don't kill him because of me." My voice broke on the last word, and fresh sobs shook me, sending more waves of agony through my battered body.

"Brother, please. Punish me, not him." The tears that had been burning behind my eyes finally broke free, streaming down my cheeks in hot, salty rivulets. Sobs tore through my chest, each one sending another wave of pain through my sore muscles.

"Gianna, don't." Angelo's voice was soft, almost tender, as he reached out to brush my hair back from my forehead. His touch was gentle, but I could still feel the tension thrumming through his fingers. "I have to?—"

"No, you don't," Elena interrupted, her tone hard and unyielding. She fixed Angelo with a stern gaze, her lips pressed into a thin, quivering line. "Jacques has paid for his negligence. You don't have to go so far as to take his life."

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to imagine what horrors Angelo had already inflicted upon poor Jacques. The thought of it made my stomach churn, bile rising in the back of my throat.

Angelo swore under his breath, the sound harsh and guttural. "All right. For you, Gianna, I'll spare his life, but he will no longer be your personal guard. Petar Dragan will assume that position."

My heart sank at the mention of Petar Dragan. He was not a man I particularly got along with, and not the one I would have chosen to be my protector, but I bit back my protests, knowing that arguing would only antagonize Angelo further. The only thing that mattered was that Jacques would live, and if that meant accepting a new guard I didn't like, so be it.