Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

A ngelo

Serenity. She was in my library, looking as radiant as ever—but there was a purple shine to her now, something that reeked of dark magic. Instead of a dress, she had on a shirt and pair of jeans. I could detect the scent of wolves with my vampire senses.

Not just wolves. Something else too, tainted and foul. Something I hadn’t detected for a long time. The stench of true evil—ancient and cold as the void itself.

What had happened to her? Who was Trystan in bed with? I sensed danger, but not from Trystan alone. There was something darker at play.

Suddenly, a voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, piercing straight through flesh and blood to my core. “Balthazar is leading you down a dark path, Serenity. Stay in the light. The light is what will save not only you, but Angelo as well.”

Centuries of survival had taught me to fear few things, but that name—Balthazar—made my dead heart clench. And what did the voice mean about saving me? Save me from what?

My blood ran cold as a golden light pulsed, revealing shadowy wings on the wall. They weren’t anything like the pure wings I’d imagined Serenity would wear. These were tattered, broken. Just seeing them felt like a stake through my chest. What were they doing to my angel?

“Every time you use his darkness, you tear at your grace,” the voice warned. “This is how angels fall, Serenity. Not in one great tumble, but with small slips into the shadows. Each time you let him twist your gift, you lose a piece of yourself.”

I reached for her, my vampire speed failing me in this strange dream realm. “Who are you with, Serenity?” My fingers grasped at shadows as my usual powers abandoned me in this ethereal space, leaving me helpless as any mortal.

She didn’t appear to hear me. The distance between us felt infinite, though she stood mere feet away.

Then the light shifted and I saw her reflection in one of the library’s windows. For a moment, her eyes glowed with a strange, purple light—neither divine nor demonic, but something corrupted. The sight made my fangs descend instinctively.

What was Trystan doing? I’d ripped the bastard apart for hurting her. But this... this felt like something far worse.

“How?” she whispered. “How do I resist his darkness?”

The answer burst from me before I could think, my fingers curling into claws as deep-rooted fury blazed through every immortal nerve. “Remember who you are. Your power comes from love and the desire to heal—not control. When he pushes you toward darkness, hold onto that truth. Light cannot be corrupted unless you allow it to be.”

She started to fade away and I lunged for her, my vampire speed finally answering my call. My fingers brushed hers for the briefest of moments before she disappeared, leaving me in agony...

I woke up soaked in my sheets with a pounding headache. An empty bottle of wine was on the nightstand.

Balthazar. The name hit me like holy water flooding my veins. An ancient demon who’d been collecting souls since before I was turned. And Trystan had handed Serenity—my Serenity—into his clutches.

I ripped off the covers and released an angry snarl that shook the walls of my room, a snarl to make lesser vampires flee in terror. Glass shattered around me as my power exploded, sending the empty wine bottle against the wall. The scent of my blood filled the air. I’d crushed the crystal tumbler in my hand without realizing it.

A slow, dark smile spread across my face as I took in the destruction around me. Perfect. Let them hear. Let them know exactly what kind of mood I was in. Blood dripped from my clenched fist, the sting of crystal shards nothing compared to the vicious pleasure coursing through me. The snarl faded to a low, satisfied rumble. I’d held back for far too long, played the civilized creature, kept the monster caged. But sometimes the only answer was letting the beast remind everyone why they feared him.

Balthazar. The demon who’d corrupted angels for sport during the first war. Who’d turned Heaven’s warriors into his broken puppets. And now he had his hands on my Nephilim, trying to twist her light into something supremely dark.

I would tear Trystan apart piece by piece for this betrayal. And then I’d remind Balthazar why the Santi family had endured through countless wars while others had crumbled to dust. No one touched what was mine.

No one.

Angry footsteps raced down the hallway to my room and my door burst open. Enzo had the Void Chain and a sword, ready to cut down any enemy. “What happened?”

Well might he ask. Glass was shattered on the floor, not only from the window but the wine bottle. Pictures had fallen. Furniture was overturned. It looked like a tornado had ripped through my room.

Dimitri came up behind him, also holding a sword, surveying the destruction with a dangerous smile that promised violence. “You know, when I said we needed to renovate, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

He kicked a piece of shattered crystal with his boot. “That was a hundred-year-old Bordeaux. I’m offended. If you’re going to destroy perfectly good alcohol, at least let me have some first.” His smirk faded and he turned serious as he caught the murderous look in my eyes. “All right, whose heart are we ripping out? Because this”—he gestured to the destruction—“isn’t your usual ‘somebody looked at my throne wrong’ tantrum.”

I dragged my fingers through my hair. “I had a dream. Serenity is trying to contact me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Her power is growing. She was here in my library, I could feel her.” I looked between them as I panted hard. “Trystan, the bastard, is working with a demon. Balthazar.”

Dimitri went utterly still at the name, his usual smirk freezing in place. For a split second, his hand went to his wrist— he’d been Balthazar’s prisoner once and I could only imagine the horrors he had endured. Balthazar was very good at torture, like begging for mercy good. I had heard the screams from his dungeon, sounds that would have driven lesser vampires mad.

“Nothing like meeting old friends again. I’d rather fly north for the winter.” The joke fell flat. “Why, of all the demons in Hell, did it have to be that one? Fantastic.” His voice held an edge I rarely heard from him.

I yanked open my closet doors so hard one of them came off its hinges, clattering to the floor as I reached for my clothes. “Be ready in an hour. We’re heading to Trystan’s. Fuck this waiting until tonight bullshit.”

Enzo frowned, ever the voice of reason. “Are you sure, boss? It was just a dream?—”

“Don’t push me, Enzo.” My hand twitched toward him before I stopped myself. No. Not again. Instead, I seized the broken closet door and hurled it through the bedroom window. Glass exploded outward in a glittering shower as my fangs descended. “We go in one hour.”

“Got it,” Enzo said quietly, his eyes quietly fixed on the destruction I’d just caused. He backed toward the door, and I caught the slight tremor in his hands—not fear exactly, but wariness.

Dimitri leaned against the doorframe, that sardonic glint back in his eyes. “If we’re going demon hunting, I’m going to need a drink. Preferably something that hasn’t been hurled against a wall.”

Enzo tilted his head. “Good idea. Come on.”

After they left, I quickly got dressed and headed down to my special room where I had the tools to kill a wolf shifter. Each step echoed with barely contained violence. Part of me sang with anticipation. Trystan had always been too powerful, too smug, too certain of his place in the hierarchy. And he’d never faced me at my full strength, never seen what I could do when I stopped pretending to be civilized.

Another part whispered caution, reminding me of all the times my rage had led to consequences I regretted later. But this was different. This wasn’t impulsive, blind fury—this was calculated vengeance. And if Trystan had done what I suspected from that dream…if he’d dared to hurt Serenity…then I’d show him exactly why vampires had once been called demons of the night.