Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dimitri

My brilliant plan? Don't get caught. Simple, right? I parked the limo a few blocks from Crescent Manor, feeling like the world's most overdressed getaway driver. Then, channeling my inner Batman (or should I say Batmanpire?), I shifted into a bat. Flying through the early evening air, I silently prayed to whatever deity looks after idiotic vampires on suicide missions.

Landing on Gianna's balcony, I shifted back, thankful that vampire shapeshifting came with a built-in wardrobe function. No awkward naked burglar moments for this guy.

Usually, I'm Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected, but right then? I felt like I was about to skinny dip in a shark tank. With chum-flavored cologne. But hesitation wasn't a luxury I could afford .

I cracked open the bedroom door, half expecting to see a neon sign screaming "INTRUDER ALERT!" But nope, just an empty hallway. Fantastic. I slipped out, feeling like the world's most reluctant ninja.

One of the bedroom doors was slightly ajar. Angelo's room, no doubt. Because, of course, the vampire mafia king leaves his door open. Why bother with security when you can just dismember any unwelcome guests?

I stood outside Angelo's bedroom door, my hand hovering over the knob. The hallway was silent, almost oppressively so. This was it—the point of no return. Once I crossed this threshold, there'd be no going back. I'd be betraying Gianna's trust, risking everything we had. For what? A magical mirror and a ring?

But then I remembered Valentin's life hanging in the balance, and Gianna's safety at stake. This wasn't just about me anymore.

I took a deep breath, unnecessary for a vampire but calming nonetheless. "Come on, Dimitri," I muttered to myself. "Channel your inner Danny Ocean. Suave, strategic, and about to pull off the heist of the century."

With a sardonic smirk, I added, "Except instead of a casino vault, you're raiding a vampire's bedroom. And instead of a crew of eleven, you've got... well, just yourself and a talent for pissing people off. Close enough, right?"

My fingers closed around the doorknob. One last moment of hesitation. Was I really going to do this? Risk everything?

Yes. Yes, I was .

I turned the knob and slipped inside, every nerve on high alert. I waited for alarms, guard dogs, or maybe a shark pit to open up beneath my feet. Nothing. No cameras in sight either. Then again, why would there be? Only a complete moron would break into the big bad wolf's bedroom.

Oh wait. That's me. Dimitri Dragan, moron extraordinaire, at your service.

I half expected to be greeted by a choir of angels or maybe a stuffed alligator. Instead, I got the vampire version of MTV Cribs.

The room was bigger than my entire apartment, with ceilings so high you'd need an extension ladder just to change a lightbulb. Dark wood furniture that probably cost more than my entire existence was scattered around like some vampire IKEA showroom. The walls were plastered with tapestries and paintings old enough to portray the Renaissance firsthand, their gold frames winking at me like they knew I didn't belong.

In the center, a bed the size of a small country dominated the room. The sheets were a deep, blood red—how original—and looked plush enough to swallow a person whole. Note to self: avoid naps on vampire king's bed.

But the real showstopper? A wall of windows offering a view that would make even the most jaded vampire whistle. The Big Easy sprawled out below, a glittering carpet of lights with Bourbon Street as its gaudy, neon centerpiece. The sounds of jazz and drunken revelry floated up, a symphony of bad decisions in the making.

The air was thick with the smell of Cajun spices— paprika, cayenne, thyme—making my mouth water. Apparently, even vampire kings can't escape the allure of New Orleans cuisine. In the distance, Old Man River himself, the Mississippi, cut through the city like a dark ribbon, reflecting the moon and stars like nature's own light show.

It was the kind of view that made you want to write poetry, contemplate life's great mysteries, or in my case, question every life choice that led me to this moment of grand larceny.

"Focus, Dimitri," I muttered to myself. "You're here to steal a mirror, not audition for Lifestyles of the Rich and Vampiric."

Why did this man have so many damn paintings? Was Angelo running an underground art gallery, or did he just have a severe case of horror vacui? The walls were a veritable Where's Waldo? of priceless art, each piece silently mocking my attempts to find the right one.

Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead, trickling down my temples like tiny, traitorous rivulets. Great. Nothing says master thief like sweating like a human in a sauna. I approached the first painting, a grandiose depiction of a castle perched on a cliff, waves crashing dramatically below. Very Gothic romance novel cover, if you ask me.

My heart, usually as calm as a vampire's should be, decided now was the perfect time to attempt a jailbreak from my chest. Each beat felt like a thunderclap in the silence of the room. I half expected the painted waves to start crashing in sync with my pulse.

My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to touch the ornate frame but terrified of leaving so much as a fingerprint. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, every sense hyperaware of my surroundings. Was that a creak in the floorboards or just my imagination playing a symphony of paranoia?

"Come on, Dimitri," I muttered under my breath, "channel your inner art critic. Which of these overpriced doodles is hiding our prize?"

I moved from painting to painting, each step feeling like I was wading through molasses. Time seemed to stretch and warp, seconds feeling like hours. My nostrils flared, trying to catch any whiff of magic or hidden mechanisms, but all I got was the musty scent of old canvas and the lingering aroma of Angelo's pretentious cologne.

This was going to be a long night. And here I thought grand larceny would be as easy as saying my ABC's. Silly me.

I approached the castle painting, a monstrosity as big as a door, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest like an alien bursting from its host. My hand trembled as I stretched it out, fingers hovering mere inches from the ornate frame. I cleared my throat, which suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara.

" Aperio Arcanum, Aperio Arcanum, Aperio Arcanum ," I chanted, my voice barely above a whisper but seeming to echo in the silent room.

Suddenly, sparkles erupted around the painting, shimmering like a galaxy of miniature stars. The canvas seemed to melt away, revealing a hidden door that materialized out of thin air. I blinked rapidly, wondering if I was hallucinating from sheer stress .

With a deep breath that did nothing to calm my nerves, I grasped the cool metal handle and pulled. The door swung open silently, and I instinctively took a step back, half expecting booby traps or a guard vampire to jump out.

Instead, I found myself staring into a space larger than a walk-in closet, a veritable Aladdin's cave of supernatural treasures. Golden statues from across the globe—I spotted Egyptian, Greek, and Italian pieces—glinted in the dim light, their eyes seeming to follow my every move. Ancient tomes lined a bookcase, their spines crackling with age and barely contained power.

My gaze zeroed in on a small table where an ornate silver hand mirror lay. It was the only mirror in the room, practically screaming "I'm the magical artifact you're looking for!" I snatched it up, my fingers tingling at the contact, and waited a beat to see if I'd suddenly sprout warts or turn into a frog. When nothing happened, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

A dresser caught my eye; it was topped with a small jewelry box that looked far too innocent to be anything but trouble. Remembering Jaxon's description, I approached it cautiously. My fingers hesitated over the lid for a moment before I steeled myself and flipped it open.

The Solarite Ring lay nestled inside, its gold band gleaming and the bronze sun-shaped stone seeming to pulse with an inner light. For once, it felt like the sun was shining on me instead of trying to turn me into vampire barbecue.

I grabbed the ring, the metal unnaturally warm against my cool skin, and shoved it into my pocket alongside the mirror. My nerves screamed at me to get out, every second feeling like an eternity. Who knew how long Angelo's church visit would last. I certainly didn't want to be caught red-handed in his secret stash of supernatural swag.

With one last sweeping glance to ensure I'd left no trace, I hurried out of the room, my unnecessary breath coming in short gasps. The painting rematerialized behind me as I closed the door, leaving no evidence of my magical breaking and entering.

Now all I had to do was get out of here without being caught, return to the church before Angelo noticed my absence, and pretend I hadn't just robbed the vampire mafia king blind. Piece of cake, right?

I slipped out of Angelo's room, my heart pounding like a jackhammer on steroids. The hallway was empty again, which only ramped up my paranoia. This was too easy, like a vampire all-you-can-eat buffet. Dad was definitely setting me up, the bastard.

I made it back to Gianna's room, my sanctuary in this den of wolves—both literally and figuratively. As I snuck onto the balcony, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Time for my grand exit, stage left. I shifted into a bat, feeling my bones crunch and reshape. Not the most comfortable way to travel, but beggars can't be choosers.

I flew to the garage, the cool night air a brief respite from the tension coiling in my gut. Shifting back to my dashing human form, I found Petar waiting for me, sporting a grin that screamed "I'm up to no good and loving it. "

"Do you have the mirror?" he asked, practically salivating.

"No, I just risked life and limb for a quick game of hide and seek," I pulled the mirror from my back pocket. "Of course I have it, genius."

But as I held it out, the surface rippled like disturbed water. Suddenly, images appeared, and my world tilted on its axis.

Gianna. My Gianna. She was alone in a dressing room, a vision in white. The wedding dress hugged her curves, making her look like an angel—my angel. My heart swelled with love and longing.

But the tender moment shattered as a man appeared in the mirror, creeping down the hallway toward her. I watched in horror as he stripped, his body contorting and expanding into a massive wolf.

"Shit," I hissed, panic clawing at my throat. This wasn't just a theft—it was a hit. And Gianna was the target.

My mind raced. Where the hell was Elena? The guards? Had they all collectively decided to take a coffee break at the worst possible moment?

I clutched the mirror tighter, my knuckles turning white. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to rush to Gianna's side, to protect her from the danger she didn't even know was coming. But I was across town and time was ticking.

I glared at Petar, my eyes narrowing to slits. The mirror's weight suddenly felt like a ticking bomb in my hand. "Does this mirror show the present or the future?" I demanded, my voice low and dangerous .

Petar's eyes darted between my face and the mirror, his expression a mix of greed and fear. "Give it to me," he said, reaching out with trembling fingers.

In a flash, my patience snapped like a dry twig. I lunged forward, my hand closing around Petar's throat with vampire speed. I lifted him off the ground, his feet dangling uselessly as he clawed at my iron grip.

"Tell me. Now." Each word was a growl, dripping with barely contained fury. I could feel Petar's pulse racing under my fingers, smell the fear rolling off him in waves.

He sputtered and gasped, his face turning an interesting shade of purple. "It...it shows...half-truths," he choked out.

I released him abruptly, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. Before I could react, he snatched the mirror out of my hand, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline.

I had a choice to make—the mirror or Gianna. But really, there was no choice at all. I didn't have time to dance with the devil. I'd burn the world down to keep her safe.

"Half-truths," I muttered, my mind racing. "Fantastic. Because what we really needed was a magical mood ring with a penchant for drama."

I spun on my heel, already moving toward where I'd parked the limo. My entire body thrummed with urgency, every second feeling like an eternity.

As I ran, my vampire speed turning the world into a blur, I couldn't shake the image of Gianna in danger. Half-truths or not, I wasn't taking any chances. Not with her life on the line.

"Hold on, Gianna," I whispered into the night air. "I'm coming. And heaven help anyone or anything that tries to stand in my way."

As I jumped into the car, my mind was a whirlwind of fear and determination. The engine roared to life, a pale echo of the fury and fear raging inside me. "Hang on, baby," I muttered, flooring the accelerator. "Your knight in shining snark is on his way."

And when I get there, that overgrown puppy is going to learn why you don't mess with a vampire in love. Especially one with a very fast car and a very, very bad temper.