Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

A ngelo

Lorcan led us up onto the deck of Keir’s yacht, but I barely registered the luxurious polished teak beneath my feet. Every shadow, every cabin could be hiding Serenity. The vessel’s vast expanse of glass and steel spread across two decks meant countless places to conceal a captive.

My eyes swept past the ostentatious outdoor bar and plush loungers, focusing instead on the multiple staircases leading below deck. How many rooms were down there? Which one might hold her? So close, and yet so unreachable.

The upper deck offered clear views through several cabin windows, but heavy curtains blocked my view into others. Each covered window felt like another taunt. Even Keir’s renowned stateroom, with its mahogany panels and floor-to-ceiling windows, drew my interest only for the hidden spaces it might have. Somewhere in this floating palace, Serenity could be trapped, waiting. Every locked door I passed felt like another barrier between us.

Lorcan opened the door. Trystan and his top two enforcers, Stark Winters and Gage Bray, were already seated at the table. Trystan stared at me with an open challenge in his gaze, his blue eyes turning amber, holding all the menace of a wolf about to strike. If he wanted a fight right here, I was ready to paint this yacht with his blood.

Keir sat at the head of the table, appearing every inch the neutral mediator in his custom-tailored suit, but I knew better. No one survived as long as Keir had by being truly neutral. He stood and gestured to three seats opposite of Trystan and his men, his smile cool. “Good evening, Angelo. Enzo, Dimitri—please have a seat.”

His gaze lingered on Dimitri, taking in the mottled bruises that purpled his face and disappeared into his collar with the calculated interest of a hunter noting its prey’s weakness. The silent question of where he had received the wounds stretched between us like a thread about to snap.

“I see you brought some birdies from the Elder Dimension.” My fingers traced the crystal glass in front of me, refusing to give Keir the satisfaction of seeing my unease about the creatures circling outside.

Keir leaned back in his chair, the picture of casual power. “Merely an added precaution. The harpies will patrol the outside to ensure that no one breaks the deal by calling in more men. My yacht will move into the middle of the river as another precaution.”

I took my seat with deliberate casualness, though every muscle was tense and ready for action. Enzo flanked me, placing his fists on the polished table with the Void Chain wrapped around one hand—a not-so-subtle reminder of what we were capable of.

Trystan cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair with feigned relaxation, a smirk playing over his lips. He turned to Keir, who offered only a slight shrug in return. The gesture spoke volumes.

Keir’s gaze slid between Trystan and me, cold calculation behind his diplomatic facade. “It’s come to my attention that there is a possible war brewing between the vampires and the wolves. This would jeopardize our way of life and draw unwanted attention from the humans.” His tone held false gentleness.

“I’m not the one who wants a war,” Trystan blurted, a growl in his words like distant thunder.

“Really?” Dimitri drawled from his seat, touching his split lip with exaggerated care. “Because framing me for kidnapping… That’s a bit desperate, even for you.”

I glared at the wolf king, my fingers digging into the chair’s upholstery until the fabric threatened to tear. The scent of his lies made my fangs ache. “If you didn’t want war, you shouldn’t have stolen Serenity.”

There was a flash of genuine confusion in his expression that made my dead heart stutter. “Are you serious? I didn’t steal her.” His lips curled into a surprised smile. “Oh, my… Are you saying you lost her?”

“I didn’t lose her,” I snarled, my voice dropping to a register that made the crystal decanters vibrate. “She was kidnapped.” I snapped my fingers, the sound sharp as a gunshot. “Enzo.”

Enzo reached into his jacket and pulled out the letter. He handed it to Keir, who scanned the words with eyes that had seen centuries of deception. His gaze flicked to me. This wasn’t going to go well for Trystan. Stealing mates crossed the line in our world—it was an offense that had started wars and toppled kingdoms.

The letter passed from Keir’s hands to Gage, who delivered it in turn to Trystan. Trystan’s brows furrowed as he read, his face darkening like storm clouds gathering. With deliberate care, he placed the letter on the polished table. “I didn’t write this.”

“It’s your handwriting,” Keir said simply, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of judgment. “There’s no mistaking it.”

My fangs dropped, darkness bleeding from my skin as my control slipped. The wolf king had taken her, lied about it, and now sat here playing innocent while Serenity was fuck-knows-where. Only Enzo’s warning hand on my arm kept me from lunging across the table and ripping out Trystan’s lying throat.

Trystan bristled, his wolf rising to the surface as it stared down my vampire darkness. “Where did you get this letter?”

“In my sister’s dresser drawer.” I held up a hand, cutting off his inevitable protest. “Gianna is not part of this war. Target her, and you’ll truly wish for death.” My voice turned to ice. “The culprit was trying to pin it on Dimitri. Care to explain that, Trystan?”

“I do not.” Trystan’s voice carried a razor’s edge. “I haven’t set eyes on your precious Nephilim since the auction. Whoever stole her, it was not the wolves.”

“That’s your handwriting,” Keir said quietly, each word falling into the silence like stones. “I suggest you take another tactic.”

Trystan pulled his upper lip back in a snarl, power rolling off him as his blue eyes dissolved to molten gold. “Handwriting can be forged. I didn’t write it, Keir.”

Dimitri went very still, the kind of stillness that preceded a massacre. “Are you seriously trying to involve my mate?” His smile was all teeth, eyes darkening with deadly intent. “Bold choice. Stupid as fuck, but bold. Shall I show you what I do when someone threatens what’s mine?”

Gage’s lips curled into a cruel smile as he studied Dimitri’s bruised face. “You don’t look like you could do much damage right now. Word is your own family doesn’t even trust you.” The taunt hung in the air like cigarette smoke over a late-night poker table.

“He claims his father’s behind it.” I leaned forward, each word heavy with meaning. “Says Petar’s making a move for my crown. But he needs muscle.” I let my gaze slide to Trystan. “Your muscle.”

Trystan looked at Keir, then back at me, the surprise on his face turning to darkness. “You actually think I’m fucking stupid enough to get into bed with Petar Dragan?” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “That bastard’s got a body count longer than Bourbon Street, Angelo. You brought that rabid dog into your family—not me.”

He’d hit a nerve, but I kept my face smooth as marble. Years of running New Orleans’ supernatural underworld had taught me to wear my masks well. Yes, I had made a mistake with Petar. It was a mistake I would bury him for.

“Let me be crystal clear.” My voice turned to arctic ice. “If Serenity isn’t returned safely to me, I will declare war on the wolves. I will systematically hunt down and slaughter every last cur in your pack until there’s nothing left but memories and blood-soaked earth.”

“Tell me.” Trystan traced a finger along the edge of his glass, the movement precise as a surgeon with a scalpel. “What’s the latest on those murdered girls?”

I growled, rage simmering beneath my skin. Someone had been draining young women dry, staging their bodies like macabre artwork to implicate my family. The last victim was Emily Bastion, one of my favorite girls at Simon’s Ravenwood Estates. The same damn auction house where I’d bought Serenity was now a hunting ground.

For days, I’d had my best men working every connection we had in the French Quarter to trace Emily’s movements, her history, anything that might give us a lead. The careful staging of her body, the deliberate way all traces of her past had been erased—someone wanted me to find these bodies, wanted me to see the way they’d arranged every detail. But why Emily? What made her special enough to become a message to me?

“For example, have you been dining on them?” Trystan’s eyes glittered with accusation as his words slithered through the room like poisonous snakes. “All the intel points to you and your bloodsuckers.”

I jabbed a finger at him, power crackling between us like static electricity. “I suspect you framed me, Trystan. With Detective Louis DuPont and his son and daughter missing, the police will be circling us like vultures.” The weight of his accusation pressed on us all—humans going missing meant attention on us that could unravel everything we’d built in New Orleans.

Enzo’s growl thundered through the room at the mention of DuPont’s daughter. The sound was pure possessiveness. His connection to Joy DuPont was becoming a liability I’d need to address, dammit.

“That’s something we cannot afford,” Keir cut in, shoulders tensing as he pressed his palms against the table. His words cleaved the room like an executioner’s axe. “I refuse to have my family threatened over a trifle like a missing Nephilim.” The word trifle cut like a blade, a reminder that he could become an enemy as easily as an ally.

“You wanted her too, Keir,” Trystan snapped, his words dripping with venom. “Or tell me, has your precious Anchoring Obsidian healed itself?” The challenge in his voice brought a sudden chill to the room.

The Anchoring Obsidian was the Unseelie jewel that kept their enemies from dragging them back to the Elder Dimension like rats onto a sinking ship. I’d seen it once—a crystalline heart that pulsed with ancient magic, its surface etched with symbols that made even my vampire blood curdle. I’d always suspected it had been carved from some ancient being in the Elder Dimension, maybe even while it was still alive, but Keir guarded its origins like a dragon guarding his hoard.

Keir’s expression turned glacial, generations of iron discipline splintering beneath the surface for just a moment. “I’m not the one who kicked this particular hornet’s nest, Trystan.” He traced an ancient sigil in the air between them, the gesture heavy with unspoken threats and magic that made the air grow thick and cold. “The missing piece here is Petar Dragan.” He leaned forward, power radiating off him in waves. “I suggest you produce him.”

“He’s not a member of my pack,” Trystan growled, fangs flashing. “He’s on Angelo’s payroll, not mine.”

A phone’s shrill ring cut through the tension.

Keir’s expression turned to carved ice. “I specifically said all cell phones were to be put to silent during this meeting.” His tone of voice could have frozen hell.

Gage pulled out his phone with exaggerated slowness. “I have to take this. Pack business.”

Trystan didn’t stop him, and Keir’s rage crackled through the room like lightning before a storm. If looks could kill, both Trystan and Gage would have been nailed to the wall like trophies already.

Gage brushed past Dimitri, bumping his chair with practiced casualness that screamed of purpose to anyone who knew how to look.

I was done with Trystan’s bullshit. My chair scraped against wood as I stood, Enzo and Dimitri falling into position behind me like shadows of death.

I fixed Trystan with a stare that had made stronger men crumble. “You have until midnight tomorrow night to produce Serenity.” I stood straighter. “If not, I’ll order the Santi family to hunt down every single member of your pack.”

“Bring it, Santi.” Trystan’s lips pulled back in a feral grin. “My pack’s strong, and it’s been a while since we dined on bats.”

Keir stood, power rolling off him in waves. “This meeting is over.” His fingers curled against the ancient oak table, burning scorch marks into the wood as centuries of magic crackled in the air around him. “I will remind you that no one is to fight on this yacht. Otherwise, Lorcan will order the harpies to attack.” The threat was chilling. I’d seen what those winged nightmares could do to supernatural flesh.

One scratch from those talons would kill Dimitri and even leave Enzo and me bedridden for days. I couldn’t afford that kind of delay—not when every hour that passed was another hour Serenity remained missing.

I nodded and led Enzo and Dimitri out of the boardroom. The yacht had already glided back alongside the dock; the meeting had been so intense that I am sure not one of us had even noticed our journey around the Mississippi’s dark waters.

Trystan and Stark remained in the boardroom, no doubt held back by Keir. His was known for keeping his yacht pristine—not only by maintaining the polished wood and crystal, but also by proactively preventing bloodstains that might never wash out.

Our driver stood at attention as we descended the gangplank, the sleek black limousine a shadow in the New Orleans night. Dimitri slid in first, followed by me, and lastly Enzo—positioning that would help us fight if needed.

“I have a surprise for you.” Dimitri’s bruised face split into a predatory smile as he produced a cellphone. “Look what Gage slipped into my jacket pocket.”

My hand shot out with vampire speed, wrapping around his throat. “Are you lying?” Power thrummed beneath my fingers, ready to crush his windpipe.

“No, he’s telling the truth.” Enzo shifted to stand between us, one hand resting on his weapon while his eyes never left my face with the unwavering focus of a guard dog. “I searched him before we left. Thoroughly.”

I released Dimitri and flipped through the phone, each swipe of my finger revealing more of Trystan’s treachery—meeting locations, contacts, all captured in neat little files proving his betrayal that would burn Trystan’s empire to the ground. By tomorrow night, his pack would be nothing but ash and memories.