Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Dimitri

I dumped the dead wolf in the trunk, half expecting it to spring back to life and ask for round two. Claw marks stung my chest and arm, and everything hurt, as if I'd gone ten rounds with a meat grinder. But I'd be damned if I let Angelo and Enzo see me sweat. Angelo still viewed me as a ninety-pound weakling, and I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of proving him right.

Enzo met me at the trunk, his eyes narrowing as he caught the scent of my blood. "Can you drive? You smell like a vampire juice box."

I broke free of his grip, flashing my patented smirk. "It's my job, remember? Wouldn't want to disappoint the boss. Besides, what's a little internal bleeding between friends? "

Enzo put up his hands in surrender. "Your funeral. Just don't pass out and drive us into a swamp."

I lifted my chin, channeling every ounce of bravado I could muster. "Please. I could drive this thing in my sleep. Which, come to think of it, might be an improvement over my usual state." I paused for dramatic effect. "Now, who's in the mood for some puppy chow?"

I slid into the driver's seat, ignoring the protestations of my battered body. As we pulled away, heading toward the bayou, my mind kept circling back to Gianna and that lone wolf – that assassin who'd dared to come for her.

The image of Gianna trapped, terrified, with that mangy mutt closing in... it made my blood boil. My hands tightened on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. This wasn't just some random attack. It was calculated, precise – an assassin sent to take out the woman I loved.

I could still smell her fear, could still see the relief in her eyes when I burst in. A second later and... No. I couldn't let my mind go there. The possibility was too horrifying to contemplate.

That wolf, that vicious, cold-blooded killer, had tried to take her from me. He'd dared to threaten my Gianna, to make her feel helpless and afraid. Each mile we drove fueled my rage, my need for vengeance.

This wasn't about pack dynamics or territory. This was personal. Someone had sent that assassin, had crossed a line I didn't even know I had. And I would make damn sure they regretted it. I'd hunt down that wolf, and whoever sent him, and make them pay .

Because this? This I couldn't forgive. Wouldn't forgive. They'd tried to destroy my world with surgical precision, and now? Now I would dismantle theirs, piece by piece.

As the bayou loomed closer, I felt a grim smile tugging at my lips. Let them send their best. I was ready to show them just how dangerous a vengeful vampire could be.

"You know," I called over my shoulder, unable to resist, "I've always wanted to visit a dog park. Think they have a leash law out here in the bayou?"

The silence from the backseat was deafening. Tough crowd. But as we drove deeper into wolf territory, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were heading straight into the belly of the beast. And for once, I wasn't entirely sure I'd come out on top.

But hey, at least if things went south, I'd go out with a killer one-liner. It's all about priorities, right?

I pulled the limousine up to the gates, feeling like I was driving into the world's most aggressive dog park. My wounds throbbed in time with the engine's purr, a not-so-gentle reminder of my recent furry encounter.

A guard held up his hand, looking about as welcoming as a root canal. "You're not expected."

I glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Angelo's eye. He pulled out his cell phone, his face a mask of barely contained fury. "Trystan, open the damn gate."

Well, well. Vampire king has the wolf king on speed dial. Color me intrigued. And slightly nauseous, but that might be the blood loss talking .

"Because one of your damn curs tried to kill my sister," Angelo snarled into the phone. "Open it now unless you want a war."

He hung up with a decisive click. Immediately, the guard's phone appeared in his hand like a magic trick. "Yes, sir. Right away." He shoved his phone back into his jacket. "Open the gates."

I guided the limo up the driveway, feeling like we were being swallowed by Moby Dick. A three-column white plantation-style mansion loomed ahead, oak trees creating a canopy overhead. It would've been picturesque if it wasn't, you know, crawling with creatures who wanted to tear us limb from limb.

Guards lined the path, swords glinting in the sunlight. Their thoughts might as well have been written on their foreheads: The only good vampire is a dead vampire. Charming.

The mansion door swung open with all the subtlety of a Broadway musical, and out stepped a tall, muscular man flanked by what I could only assume were his loyal band of merry thugs. This had to be the infamous Trystan Hunter. Great.

He descended the stairs with the grace of a lion and the swagger of a peacock, his long brownish-blond hair catching the light like some kind of shampoo commercial gone wrong. If this guy was going for the 'fallen angel' look, he'd nailed it - right down to the 'I eat kittens for breakfast' gleam in his eyes.

I had to hand it to him, the man knew how to make an entrance. All he was missing was a white cat to stroke and a swivel chair to dramatically turn around in.

But angelic? Please. This guy was about as heavenly as a rabid Chihuahua in a tutu. And probably twice as yappy.

As Angelo and Enzo exited the limo, I hauled myself out, praying my legs wouldn't betray me. Every movement sent waves of pain crashing through my body, but I plastered on my best I-eat-werewolves-for-breakfast smirk.

Some of the wolves flinched as they took in my bloody appearance. I pulled back my lower lip, exposing my fangs still stained with wolf blood. "What's the matter, boys? Never seen a vampire win a dogfight before?"

Trystan let out a low growl that would've sent lesser men running. Good thing I left my self-preservation instincts back at the bridal shop. "I told you I found the faction, Angelo."

Angelo met the wolf king's steely blue eyes, cool as a cucumber in a freezer. "Dimitri, show him."

I popped the trunk and hauled out our furry friend, ignoring the way my muscles screamed in protest. The wolves gripped their swords tighter, looking like they were one wrong move away from turning this into an all-you-can-eat buffet of vampire.

I tossed the carcass at Trystan's feet with a theatrical flourish. "You were saying, mighty king?" I snarled, channeling every ounce of snark I could muster.

Trystan's cheek twitched as he took in the dead wolf. He locked his gaze on me, his eyes narrowing. "You?"

I flashed him my most devilish smile. "Stalking my mate was his fatal flaw. Turns out, he bit off more than he could chew. Literally."

"You said no one in your organization ordered the hit," Angelo challenged, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. I half expected him to start breathing fire.

Trystan tilted his head, reminding me of a curious puppy. A very large, very dangerous puppy. "Show them, Gage."

Gage, Trystan's enforcer, stepped forward. With his long, shaggy hair and gray eyes, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a werewolf fashion magazine—if such a thing existed. The scars crisscrossing his right arm caught my eye, silvery lines snaking up to disappear beneath his collar. They continued along the right side of his neck, a roadmap of past battles etched into his skin. Great, a walking, talking testament to 'what doesn't kill you makes you uglier.' Note to self: do not pet the scary werewolf.

I stiffened, every instinct screaming that this was a trap. But Angelo and Enzo followed the three wolf shifters, so I fell in line behind them. Each step was an exercise in not face-planting in front of our furry hosts. Nothing says fearsome vampire quite like eating dirt, right?

But with each step, my resolve strengthened. This wasn't just about vampire versus werewolf anymore. This was about Gianna, about protecting what was mine.

Gage led us to a clearing that looked like the aftermath of a particularly gruesome horror movie. Several bodies—a mix of wolves and humans—were piled onto logs, looking like they'd gone through a supernatural wood chipper. The smell of death and decay hit me like a freight train, making my already queasy stomach do backflips.

"Traitors," Gage growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "We sniffed them out. They were a rival faction, trying to take down our king by making it look like he wanted to start a war with the vampires. We hunted them all down except for one."

"Let me guess," I drawled, unable to help myself. "The one who tried to turn my fiancée into puppy chow?"

Angelo shot me a warning glance before meeting Trystan's gaze. "The one who tried to kill Gianna?"

"Yes," Trystan answered, his voice grave. "The faction is dead. I am a king, and I give you my word that no one will try to harm your sister or your family again."

I bit back a snarky comment about the reliability of a dog's word. Now didn't seem the time for canine puns, no matter how tempting.

Angelo fixed Trystan with a stare that could've frozen hell over. "Then prove it. Let us burn them."

Trystan cocked his eyebrow, and suddenly the air felt thick enough to cut with a knife. If he said no, we'd be in for one hell of a dogfight. And while normally I'm all for a good scrap, my body was currently voting for a nice, long nap instead.

I held my breath, drawing on every ounce of vampire strength I had left. If this went south, I'd need all my wits—and maybe a miracle or two—to fight my way out and get back to Gianna.

Trystan met Angelo's angry stare. "To keep the peace, I will honor that request."

But then Trystan snapped his fingers, the sound cutting through the tension like a whip crack. Gage and another wolf grabbed pieces of wood, dousing them with gasoline from a nearby can. They lit the makeshift torches, the flames dancing in the growing twilight.

As Angelo, Enzo, and I took the torches, I couldn't help but chuckle, "You know, when I said I wanted a heated discussion with the wolves, this isn't quite what I had in mind."

We tossed the torches onto the pile, and another soldier unceremoniously added our furry friend from the trunk to the blaze. As the flames leaped higher, casting an eerie glow over the clearing, the shadows painted a picture of a much bigger, much messier story.

"Well," I muttered, watching the fire consume our enemies, "I guess this is one way to have a vampire-werewolf barbecue. Though next time, I vote for marshmallows instead of traitors."

Trystan gazed at Angelo, the flames dancing in his eyes like a twisted tango. "Are you satisfied that I've punished the traitors? Or should I roll over and play dead too?"

Angelo scanned the pack of wolves behind Trystan, his face as readable as a stone tablet. "If anyone so much as looks funny at my sister or anyone in my family, I'll be back. And next time, I won't just burn the traitors. I'll turn this whole place into the world's largest dog-themed bonfire."

Trystan narrowed his eyes, his lips curling into what might have been a smile if it wasn't so terrifying. "Well, it's a good thing the traitors are dead then. Wouldn't want to inconvenience you with a return trip."

Angelo kept silent, turning away from the burning pyre of fur and flesh. The smell of charred wolf scalded my throat, making me wish I'd packed a nose clip. Note to self: add scent-proof mask to vampire survival kit.

As Enzo and I fell in behind Angelo, heading back to the limo, I had a terrible feeling that this was far from over. My finely tuned bullshit detector was going off like a five-alarm fire.

I wanted to believe this little barbecue had solved all our problems, but experience had taught me that nothing in our world was ever that easy. It was like expecting a werewolf to fetch—theoretically possible, but likely to end in tears and missing fingers.

Unlike Angelo's guards, who probably couldn't protect a sandwich from a determined squirrel, I'd make damn sure Gianna was safe. Anyone who came near her with less than friendly intentions would wish they'd volunteered as kindling for the wolf pyre back there.

"Well," I muttered as we got into the car, "that was a delightful evening. Next time, let's skip the execution and go straight to s'mores. I hear wolf fur makes excellent kindling."

The silence in the limo was thick enough to cut with a fang. No one seemed in the mood for my razor-sharp wit, which was probably for the best. My body felt like it had been stomped on by a supernatural jackhammer, each bump in the road sending fresh waves of agony through me. I gritted my teeth, determined not to let a single groan escape.

As we pulled away from Werewolf Central, my eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Angelo and Enzo sat like statues, their faces carved from stone. Tough crowd doesn't even begin to cover it. I half expected tumbleweeds to start rolling through the car.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white with the effort of staying upright. Every fiber of my being screamed to floor it, to get back to Crescent Manor at vampire speed. But even in my battered state, I knew better than to test Angelo's patience. Or the local speed limits.

Gianna's face flashed in my mind, a beacon of light in this mess of fur and fire. Was she safe? Had Jacques managed to do his job for once, or was I going to come home to another disaster? The uncertainty gnawed at me worse than my injuries.

I swallowed hard, tasting blood—mine or the wolf's, I wasn't sure anymore. The coppery flavor mixed with the lingering scent of burnt fur, creating a cocktail that would make even the strongest vampire gag.

As we hit another pothole, sending a jolt of pain through my battered body, I bit back a curse. This was going to be the longest drive of my undead life. But I'd be damned if I let Angelo or Enzo see me falter. I had a reputation to uphold, after all.

All I wanted was to get back to Crescent Manor, to see Gianna's face and know she was safe. To hold her in my arms and forget, for just a moment, about werewolf politics and vampire grudges. To pretend that our biggest problem was choosing wedding flowers, not avoiding inter-species warfare.

But as the bayou faded behind us and the lights of New Orleans grew closer, I suspected this was just the beginning. The wolf might be dead, but something told me we weren't out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.