CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

V incent!

“I can’t believe we didn’t fucking see this,” Craig said, running a hand through his hair.

He was standing in front of the security cameras as they flicked through them one after the other, looking for issues.

On the screens, Brayden saw pairs of vamps in their military uniforms discretely moving along corridors to get into position. Craig had moved them up a security level.

“We could be wrong.”

They weren’t. He could feel it in his bones.

“They’re either in here or on their way,” Lance added.

Vince!

Marcus, Kurt, and Tom were strapping on swords and knives over their black one-piece Moretti royal uniforms, sleeves rolled up their forearms.

Lance leaned over an officer who wore the same black uniform with the Moretti logo, except—like all soldiers who held positions lower than the Senior Lieutenants—he had red piping along his shirt.

Brayden watched them flick through the past few hours of footage.

“Where’s the king?” he asked Craig, a chill running through his body as his attempts to reach his brother remained unanswered.

“They were in the throne room, but now it’s empty,” Lance replied. “Wait.”

Craig glanced at Brayden at the same time as he did.

“That’s not right,” Lance continued.

Brayden’s chest tightened.

Simultaneously, all of them, except Lance, ran out of the room and toward the throne room.

brAYDEN!

Well, at least he’s fucking alive , he thought.

Vincent, where are you?

They have Kate. They have THE QUEEN!

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“They’ve got the queen.” He ground to a halt, holding out a hand to stop his team from rushing in. There was no running into this anymore. It was now a hostage situation.

Are you in the throne room?

No! She’s in there with them. Those fuckers are going to die!

Port to the security room right now.

“Tom, Marcus, get your men surrounding the throne room, but nobody goes in,” Craig instructed.

“Go to high alert,” Brayden told Lance when they arrived back at the security office. “I want as many of our citizens in their rooms and out of conflict areas as soon as possible. This could get ugly, and who knows how long it will last?”

The officer pushed some buttons and lights began flashing throughout the castle. Everyone knew what they meant. They’d run drills.

Brayden looked over at the king. He was standing right in front of the cameras waiting for the feed to refresh, legs wide, fists on his hips, ready to kill.

“Get these fucking cameras fixed!” he suddenly roared.

“Doing what we can as fast as we can, my lord,” Lance said, frantically tapping on the screen while telepathically talking to his crew.

Craig and Brayden shared a look. Unsaid words, nothing to do with the current conversations happening around them, were exchanged between them. This was how the two of them worked. An unspoken ability to strategize with a look. After all these years, they knew each other’s thoughts. A glance, a scowl, a flare of the nostrils.

“I go in,” Craig finally said.

Vincent marched up to them. “If anyone is going in, it’s me.”

“Don’t be fucking crazy, Vince; it’s you they want. They want the throne!”

“You think I give a fuck about the throne?! That’s my mate!”

Brayden got it on a level he never would have a few weeks ago. However, as king, it wasn’t an option. As captain of the Royal Army for the royal family, as prince, it was his job to keep the king safe. And fucked if he was going to take the damn throne if this all ended up a shit show.

More of a shit show.

“You are not going in.”

Vincent stepped up to his face.

“Clear the room!” Craig boomed and everyone ported out. The guy knew that no one could bear witness to the two royals challenging each other, no matter the situation.

“We don’t have time to fight about this, Vince! Craig and I will get Kate out of there. You’re buying into their fucking ploy. Let us do the thinking and do our jobs.”

The king clenched the edges of Brayden’s leather jacket. “One chance could be all they need to take her head.”

He understood the madness. Shit, he’d been there barely minutes ago himself with Willow.

“It’s yours they want, for God’s sake. Stop wasting time.”

He was running out of patience. He gripped the king’s hands and removed them from his jacket, the guy’s eyes widening.

The screen to the throne room suddenly flashed to life. Inside there were a handful of vampires—some he recognized, some he didn’t. And Kate.

“Hello, Morettis,” Stefano sneered.

Get the others back in here.

As Kurt, Lance, and the officer ported back in, Brayden stepped to the center of the room.

“Turn on the microphone,” he instructed, then said, “Let the queen go and I’ll spare your brothers’ heads.”

Stefano let out a dirty laugh. He was standing in front of the queen, who had a knife held to her throat by his brother, Luca Russo. She looked angry and shaken.

“You. Will. Fucking. Die!” the king boomed from behind him.

He didn’t blame him.

“No, Vincent Moretti, it is you who will die this night. You and your brother, the prince.” He laughed.

Brayden shot a quick look over at Craig, who was doing what he did best; find a way out of a damn dangerous situation. The vampire’s eyes darted around the screen, assessing, and looking for opportunities and risks.

“No more Moretti’s. Oh, boo-hoo,” Marco Russo mocked.

There’s at least seven of them in there, from what I can see.

Could be more in the castle.

“You have five minutes to get your asses in here or the queen’s head will be the first to roll,” Stefano said, waving his sword around recklessly.

Go! Brayden told Craig. The guy disappeared.

This was their playground, and the Russo’s’ first mistake. Never attempt to take down your opponent in their own backyard. They had spent years setting up the castle in the event of a coup or human invasion.

He nodded to Lance, who muted the feed and shut down the two-way video feed, allowing them to see inside the room while the Russo’s were now blind. Brayden ran his hand down his face.

A glance at the other monitors showed the castle halls were quiet now that everyone was safely in their rooms. The drills ran over the years were paying dividends today.

He had to get the queen out of there. Sending the king in would only make matters worse; however, stopping him would be impossible.

Four minutes.

Vincent began marching to the door.

“Fuck, Vince. Give me a second.”

He whipped around. “Tell me what you would do if it were Willow in there?”

Brayden hissed. “Lance, get some more backup in here. Kurt, you’re with us.”

“Yes, sir.”

And Lance. The guy stared at him. If anything should go wrong tonight, I want you to get Willow out of here immediately. Wipe her memory and take her home.

He couldn’t watch the guy’s reaction.

We’re in place , Craig reported.

Vincent and I are going in.

Are you mad?

You think you can stop him? Be my guest.

Yeah, fuck. Okay, Plan B.

He nodded briefly to Tom and Marcus as he gripped Vincent’s arm to halt the guy from barging in.

We’re here , he told Craig. Going in on five.

Vincent was a powerful vampire when at full capacity. In a sword fight, he’d win with that Moretti blood pumping through his veins. In a hostage situation, with his mate’s head up against a sword, he would be no help. In fact, he’d be a volatile and irrational hindrance.

Four.

“Take my lead,” he muttered quietly.

Three.

Two.

One.

All five of them stepped into the room, silent, dangerous, and with fury rolling off them.

Kate’s skin was pale, her eyes filled with fear and apology for allowing herself to be caught in this position. No one blamed her. She was a brave and strong female, but not a match for the Russo males.

The king stiffened next to him, ready to bolt.

Don’t fucking move.

I’m powerful enough.

Are you fast enough? You’ve been ill. You would risk your mate’s life? Our queen?

Luca held the razor-sharp sword at her throat with his strong, muscular arm. Brayden knew the guy had the will and speed to do it. He wasn’t faster or stronger than the Moretti’s, but he had the advantage of being already in position and stupid enough to do it.

What they needed was a distraction.

The one thing Brayden knew about power-hungry assholes was that they got high on this stuff. Drunk with ego and with the right trigger, they’d mess up. Hopefully, before they hurt the queen.

“Let’s talk, Stefano. Tell us what you want for once in your goddam life. What is it you want?”

The tall vampire grinned and spun a knife around his fingers threateningly. Brayden couldn’t wait to stick the thing in the guy’s anus. That would be a fun ending to this circus.

“Brayden Moretti, how nice of you to finally ask. I’m sick of you sending your little soldiers to spy and infiltrate my homes.”

He didn’t respond. The guy ignored his ignore. So, this was fun.

Stefano loved the sound of his own voice, so he gave in first. “I want the fucking throne. It’s no damn secret. This whole damn royal family is outdated.” He waved his hands around. “Plus, you took my father’s head, so I will have my revenge.”

Vincent took a step forward, but Brayden tugged on his jacket. Be careful, brother.

“Your father challenged the king, and he lost,” Vincent said, voice laced with hate. “But at least he did so with an official challenge and his honor.”

Stefano grabbed Kate’s hair and dragged the knife down her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and cursed at him.

“That is exactly why it’s time we have a democracy. The old ways are done.”

Brayden let out a little laugh. “So you want the throne, but you also want a democracy? Which is it, Russo? And where do your brothers fit into this little plan of yours?”

A few eyes darted around at each other.

“Who becomes king?” He pushed further. “Are you all kings, making decisions together?”

There would be no democracy. All the reports he’d received back from their spies said that Stefano was a narcissistic dictator. Forget a royal structure; the guy would turn the vampire race into a controlled state of fear.

Brayden was proud of the way Vincent had evolved the royal ways, inserting compassion and modern thinking into his reign. He’d included Brayden and Kate in many of his decisions, along with his heads of states where appropriate. He was a strong, collaborative leader who influenced people to follow him without the use of a strong arm or sword, though at times that was needed with a predatory race.

“Enough with your questions,” Stefano sneered. “My brothers follow me.”

Marco coughed. “No. We’re equal partners.”

Stefano’s expression hardened as his jaw twitched. Without looking at his brother, he said half-heartedly, “Sure.”

“Three kings?” Vincent asked beside him, cottoning on to his ploy. “Who is the final decision-maker?”

“Hold on, I thought they wanted a democracy?” Brayden asked, not looking away from the sword at Kate’s throat.

Get ready.

Roger.

“Enough of this questioning!” Stefano yelled, stepping forward, threatening them with the knife.

“Don’t come any closer.” Brayden stepped in front of the king, his voice low and threatening.

“You don’t hold the cards here, Moretti. Look around you!” He laughed like a madman. “We have your queen. Oh, and...”

Brayden froze.

“Bring in our new guest,” Stefano called, his eyes glistening with excitement. He didn’t turn as the side door opened; instead, he held Brayden’s eyes and beamed in delight. A male vampire came into view, pulling a female with him.

Brayden knew who it was immediately. They ripped a cloth bag off her head, and he felt every muscle and bone in his body expand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes swimming with tears and fear.

He felt powerless for the first time in his entire life. Cold ran through his veins. Time stopped. His life would be meaningless if the woman before him died. Brayden couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Fuck, if he’d turned her, she would have been stronger and able to communicate telepathically with him. But it was too late for what ifs .

With too many moving pieces—meaning vampires—Brayden couldn’t calculate a safe way to ensure Willow wouldn’t die.

Craig. Stand down. They have Willow.

Brayden. Don’t do this.

She’ll die. I’ve done the math.

Let me do this.

No. Stand the fuck down.

“I see we have your attention now, little prince,” Stefano said as he stepped toward Willow.

Brayden clenched his fists. “Touch her and I’ll rip your head off with my bare hands.”

He circled Willow, smelled her hair, and ran a finger down her arm. All the while, Willow squeezed her eyes shut as she stood shivering. It was taking everything in him not to flash to her side and pull her into his arms.

Wait, weren’t there seven of them?

Craig! Whatever you are doing, fucking stop it.

Fuck you.

The fuck! This is the queen and princess!

Yeah, and you mush heads can’t think straight. I’m taking over.

Beside him Kurt, Tom, and Marcus shifted. Brayden glanced at Vincent, then back to his mate.

“I’m warning you, Russo, take your hands off my mate. She is human. Let her go.”

It was worth a shot.

“Surrender the throne, Vincent. Both of you. On your knees, Moretti’s, and I will let both females live.” Stefano pointed the knife to the floor in front of him. Brayden didn’t believe a word of it. He gripped Vincent’s wrist.

“You will never have the throne, you piece of shit,” Vincent snarled. “Hand the females over and we will let you return to Italy.”

“No, they won’t. Don’t listen to them, brother,” Luca said.

Stefano squeezed his eyes shut. “Luca, shut the fuck up. I’m not stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid, stronzo !”

Stefano shook his head, patience wearing thin with his fellow kidnappers. “Oh, we will be returning to Italy,” he said before pointing at the thrones. “With those!”

Then he expanded his fangs and leaned into Willow. “And perhaps one of these.” Stefano placed a hand over one of her breasts and she jumped.

Brayden’s blood boiled. Without a thought for anything else, he leapt toward his mate.