Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

GAGE

T he night clung to Gage like a second skin, the humid air of New Orleans pressing down on him as he stalked through the narrow, winding streets toward Madame Vesper’s infamous establishment. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts—anger, frustration, and an overwhelming need to find Savannah. She had disappeared after they’d warned Griff and Zane about Falwell’s plot, slipping through his fingers like smoke. He couldn’t shake the gnawing fear in his gut that she was diving headfirst into danger, alone.

And that made him reckless.

The lavish, red-lit mansion that housed Madame Vesper’s brothel loomed ahead, a beacon of decadence and power in the heart of the French Quarter. Gage’s instincts told him that something was happening here tonight, something tied to the dark forces swirling beneath the surface of the city. Vesper had always been more than just a powerful vampire madame—she was a master manipulator, a centuries-old player in the supernatural underworld. And right now, she was gathering supporters for the final phase of whatever plan she and Falwell had concocted.

Gage needed to know what that plan was. He needed to stop it.

Drawing on his demonic abilities, Gage reached out with his empathic sense, feeling the swirl of emotions inside the building—greed, ambition, lust, and fear. He closed his eyes, letting the emotions wash over him, searching for weak points, vulnerabilities. In a gathering like this, emotions ran high, and Gage was more than capable of using that to his advantage.

He slipped through the side entrance, blending into the shadows. His presence went unnoticed as he moved deeper into the mansion, his eyes scanning the opulent hallways for any sign of the meeting. The heavy scent of perfume and blood hung in the air, and the soft murmurs of conversation drifted from the rooms around him. The place oozed luxury, but beneath the surface, Gage could feel the rot—the darkness that Vesper cultivated so expertly.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

It was a grand room, filled with an assortment of supernaturals, all of them powerful in their own right. Vampires, warlocks, shifters, fae, even a few demons. They were seated in a semicircle around Madame Vesper herself, who sat like a queen on her throne, her dark eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. Beside her stood Edward Falwell, his tall frame draped in shadows, his presence commanding the room’s attention.

Gage slipped into the back of the room, unnoticed for now, and began to subtly work his power. He let his empathic abilities flow through the room, seeping into the minds of those gathered. His touch was light, almost imperceptible, but it was enough. He planted the seeds—doubt, fear, suspicion. Little by little, the tension in the room began to grow.

A vampire near the front shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking nervously toward Falwell. A warlock whispered something to the fae beside him, a note of distrust in his voice. The atmosphere grew heavy, charged with uncertainty. Gage could feel it working, feel the cracks forming in whatever it was that was Vesper and Falwell’s carefully constructed alliance.

But just as he was beginning to gain momentum, the room’s door swung open with a bang, and Gage’s heart dropped.

Lyrion Thornheart strode into the room, his presence immediately commanding attention. The fae enforcer’s eyes swept the room, cold and calculating, until they landed on Gage. For a split second, Gage’s blood ran cold. Thornheart’s eyes narrowed, recognition flashing in them.

“Well, well,” Thornheart said, his voice a dangerous purr as he moved toward Gage. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

Gage straightened, his jaw tightening as he met Thornheart’s gaze. “I could say the same about you.”

Thornheart’s lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes remained hard. “What’s the matter, Tremblay? Are you here to meddle in affairs that are so far above your station? Or are you here for her?”

The implication in Thornheart’s words made Gage’s blood boil, but he kept his voice steady. “I’m here for my own reasons. Savannah can take care of herself.”

Thornheart’s sneer deepened. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I also know that you’ve developed a bit of a soft spot for her. Don’t think for a second that will protect you from what’s coming.”

Gage took a step closer, his voice low and deadly. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you or your precious Fae Council hurt her, you’re wrong. Savannah’s her own person. She doesn’t answer to you, and neither do I.”

Thornheart’s eyes flashed with anger, but before he could respond, Vesper’s voice cut through the tension.

“Enough.” She stood from her throne, her gaze flicking between Gage and Thornheart. “This is neither the time nor the place for your petty squabbles. We have more important matters to discuss.”

Thornheart shot Gage a final glare before stepping back, though the promise of retribution lingered in his eyes.

Gage exhaled slowly, turning his attention back to the room. He couldn’t afford to get distracted now. He had come here for information, and if Vesper and Falwell were planning something big, he needed to know what it was. But as the meeting resumed, Gage could feel the tension in the room escalating.

Falwell spoke of power, of domination, his voice like silk as he wove his web around the gathered supernaturals. He promised them wealth, control, and influence, all under his and Vesper’s leadership. But Gage knew better. Falwell wasn’t offering partnership—he was offering enslavement. And now, as the seeds of doubt Gage had planted began to take root, the room grew restless.

Gage’s concentration wavered, but then a sharp pang of emotion hit him—fear, anger, betrayal. Someone had caught on.

His heart skipped a beat. Falwell’s eyes were scanning the room, his demonic senses flaring as he searched for the source of the dissent. Gage gritted his teeth, pulling his power back, trying to blend into the background. But it was too late.

Falwell’s gaze locked onto him, his eyes narrowing.

“There’s someone here,” Falwell growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Someone working against us.”

The air in the room grew thick, suffocating, as Falwell’s power intensified. It was a darkness that crept beneath the skin, an oppressive weight that pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. The supernatural creatures scattered around the room—vampires, warlocks, shifters, fae, and other lesser demons—shifted uneasily, their eyes darting nervously toward Gage. They sensed it too: the storm that was about to break, the violence that simmered just beneath the surface.

Gage could feel Falwell’s gaze boring into him, sharp and malevolent, and his own muscles tensed in response. His instincts screamed at him to move, to strike first, but the chaos around him kept his feet rooted. He couldn't reveal himself too soon. There was still a chance he could play this off, manipulate the situation without releasing the monster inside him. He had to stay calm.

But then, in an instant, all hope of control evaporated.

With a roar that shook the very foundation of the mansion, Falwell exploded with power. A wave of demonic energy surged outward like a blast of heat from a furnace. The shockwave hit with the force of a bomb, sending supernaturals crashing against the walls. Tables and chairs flew across the room, splintering into pieces, and the floor beneath them cracked under the sheer force of the energy.

Gage barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side as a nearby vampire was hurled into the far wall, collapsing with a sickening thud. The air sizzled with dark magic, the stench of sulfur and brimstone overwhelming. Falwell’s energy was a living thing, twisting and writhing through the air, and Gage could feel the demonic tendrils clawing at his skin, trying to pull him under.

He gritted his teeth and rolled to his feet just as Falwell was on him, faster than Gage had anticipated. The raw strength of the demon’s attack was nearly enough to shatter his defenses. Falwell’s hands gripped Gage’s shoulders, the pressure crushing, and Gage’s knees buckled under the weight.

“You think you can stop me?” Falwell snarled, his voice a twisted growl of rage. “You’re nothing.”

Gage fought to keep his focus, his shifter instincts kicking in, guiding his body even as the rest of him reeled from the assault. He twisted sharply, breaking Falwell’s hold with a move that sent the demon staggering back a few steps. But before Gage could press the advantage, Falwell’s power flared again, and this time, it felt as though the walls themselves were caving in.

“Enough of this!” Falwell bellowed, his voice booming through the room, shaking the very foundation of the mansion. The ground beneath Gage's feet trembled as dark tendrils of energy began to seep through the cracks in the floor. “I’ll destroy you all!”

Gage’s heart raced. He could feel the pull inside him—the part of him that was darker, more primal. The demon blood that coursed through his veins stirred in response to Falwell’s challenge, demanding to be unleashed. For years, he had fought to suppress that side of himself, to keep the Rougarou beast within him in check. But now, with Falwell’s power threatening to tear the room apart, Gage knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He couldn’t win this fight with half-measures.

His skin began to burn, a deep, searing heat that radiated from within. His muscles rippled, expanding as the shift took hold. This was nothing like when he shifted to his wolf. Allowing his demon half to take hold was painful and violent. His body was torn between the wolf and the demon, and for a brief, agonizing moment, Gage wondered if he would be able to control it at all. The pain was intense, burning through him like molten lava, and his vision blurred with the intensity of it.

But then, knowing he had little to no choice, he let it come.

His skin stretched as his muscles thickened, claws extending from his hands. His bones snapped and reformed, and his senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. The familiar, comforting presence of his wolf form melded and succumbed to the dark, twisted energy of his demon half, creating something more—a monstrous hybrid of both worlds. His eyes glowed a deep, unnatural red, and his chest heaved as he finally embraced the power he had always feared.

Falwell’s eyes widened as Gage completed the transformation, his twisted grin faltering. For a moment, the demon looked almost... unsure. But then the madness returned, and Falwell’s smile twisted even further, a grotesque mockery of triumph.

“You’re just like me,” Falwell hissed, his voice dripping with malice. “You think you can fight it, but the darkness will consume you, just like it did me. Your wolf will lose, and your demon will win, Rougarou.”

Gage’s breath came in ragged bursts, his entire body humming with energy. He could feel the pull of the darkness, the temptation to let go completely, to surrender to the power that now coursed through his veins. But he wasn’t like Falwell. He hadn’t given in to the madness.

He wouldn’t.

“I’m nothing like you,” Gage growled, his voice deeper and more bestial than before.

With a savage roar, he lunged at Falwell, their bodies colliding with a force that sent shockwaves through the room. The impact cracked the marble floor beneath them, and the walls groaned in protest. Gage’s claws raked across Falwell’s chest, tearing through skin and muscle, but the demon barely flinched. He fought back with equal ferocity, his own claws slicing through the air, narrowly missing Gage’s throat.

They moved like shadows, blurs of violence and power, each strike sending shock waves through the room. Every punch, every slash of claws or surge of magic reverberated through Gage’s bones, but he didn’t relent. He couldn’t. If he did, Falwell would destroy him—and everyone else in the room.

The remaining supernaturals scrambled for cover, some attempting to flee, but the sheer force of the battle between Gage and Falwell made escape almost impossible. The mansion itself seemed to buckle under the weight of the energy being unleashed. Chunks of the ceiling began to crumble, and the walls cracked, the entire structure threatening to collapse.

Falwell unleashed a blast of dark magic, sending Gage flying backward into a pillar. The impact jarred his bones, and for a split second, his vision blurred. But before Falwell could follow through with another attack, Gage pushed himself up, snarling through the pain. His demonic side was screaming at him to let go, to unleash the full extent of his power, but Gage held on by a thread.

He had to stay in control. He couldn’t afford to lose himself.

With a final surge of strength, Gage launched himself at Falwell, their bodies colliding once more. This time, Gage’s claws sank deep into Falwell’s chest, and with a roar of fury, Gage slammed Falwell into the wall, the force of the blow shaking the entire room.

For a moment, Falwell’s eyes flickered with shock and then pain. Blood dripped from his mouth as he stared at Gage, his body trembling from the impact. Gage didn’t give him a chance to recover.

With a final, bone-shattering punch, Gage drove his fist into Falwell’s chest, the impact reverberating through the room like a crack of thunder. Falwell’s body crumpled to the ground, a twisted, broken heap.

The room fell deathly silent.

Gage stood over Falwell’s fallen form, his chest heaving, his body still humming with the raw, volatile power of his demonic nature. His vision swam with the aftereffects of the battle, the edges of his consciousness fraying as he fought to reel in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure that he could.

But then, slowly, the rage subsided. The power that had surged through him began to fade, and Gage exhaled a long, ragged breath. He looked down at Falwell, whose lifeless body seemed to fizzle into a small flame, reducing it to nothing more than ash and dust.

For a few precious seconds, the mansion was still. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the few survivors who had managed to avoid the destruction.

Gage closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus. He had won. But at what cost?

As he stood over the pile of ash that had once been Falwell’s broken form, his thoughts raced to Savannah, to the fight ahead. One thing was clear: there would be no turning back now. The storm wasn’t over—not yet. And Savannah was still out there.