Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

A ngelo

I slipped Moonfall inside my suit jacket, the sacred dagger’s weight comforting and familiar against my ribs. Such a beautiful, elegant thing, designed solely for one purpose—ending wolf shifters. The silver runes running along its hilt and blade burned cold through the fabric, a reminder of what I intended to do. Trystan would feel that cold soon enough, right before I drove it into his heart—but not before he told me where he and Balthazar were keeping Serenity.

Enzo lounged against the wall outside my secret room. He was trying to look casual, but I could smell the anticipation rolling off him, acrid as gunpowder. “Got it, boss?”

I pulled my jacket back, revealing the blade. “Trystan’s a dead man.” The words tasted like a sweet promise on my tongue.

Satisfying thoughts of cutting out Trystan’s heart kept clawing at my focus, but I forced myself to keep my mind on what needed to be done. I gave Enzo a fierce stare. “Are Elena and Gianna safe?”

“Yes. They are in the library. Luigi is guarding them.”

“Good.”

The library was one of the most secure rooms at Crescent Manor. No windows, just one heavy door, and layers of my strongest wards woven into every wall. They’d be fine.

Dimitri appeared, smirking as usual. “Sooo… We’re walking into what’s probably a trap with a demon who likes to play torture games probably waiting in the wings?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds like a fantastic way to spend the evening. Should I bring snacks?”

Let him come , I thought, hunger and violence singing in my blood as my fingers caressed Moonfall’s hilt. Tonight wasn’t about clean, elegant kills. Tonight was about sending messages. And nothing says “stay out of my territory” quite like a dead wolf and a demon who has finally learned his place.

I glanced at Dimitri. “You still have the burner phone that Gage slipped you?”

He patted the bulge on his jacket. “Right here.”

“This could get ugly, boss,” Enzo muttered as we headed out of the house to the limousine. “You don’t think we should have more men?”

I shook my head. “No, this is a sneak attack. Trystan won’t be expecting that. It will be the last mistake he makes. Once again—is Crescent Manor well-guarded?”

“Guys at all the entrances. No one’s getting in,” Enzo said. “Not even that thing that’s taken over DuPont. I made sure it’s warded against demons. And I’ve even got Solomon’s Seals placed at seven points around the property.” He pulled out one of the ancient coins, its surface etched with symbols. The metal had the old-blood patina that only came from centuries of use.

“You’re telling me those little trinkets actually keep out demons?” Dimitri’s voice was heavy with skepticism.

“Regular demons, yeah.” Enzo flipped the seal between his fingers. “Even powerful ones can’t cross once it’s activated. But DuPont”—he shrugged—“well, he’s something else entirely, isn’t he?”

I studied the seal, noting how it pulsed to absorb the shadows around it. “And Balthazar hasn’t noticed?”

“That’s the beauty of it.” Enzo’s grin turned predatory. “Demons don’t even sense the barrier until they hit it, and by then it’s too late. Like walking into a wall of holy fire.”

Perfect, I thought. Balthazar couldn’t interfere if he couldn’t reach us. And Trystan? Well, he’d learn what happened to dogs who strayed into the wrong territory.

The three of us exited Crescent Manor. Pascal got out of the driver’s seat and opened the limousine door for us. Dimitri was well enough to start driving again, but he was actually proving more useful as one of Enzo’s men.

The bruises I’d left on him were fading like watercolors washing away—purple melting to green, green dissolving to yellow, yellow barely visible against his skin. The split lip had knit itself closed, though he still ran his tongue over it occasionally, like testing a memory. Only the shadow of a bruise around his eye remained, and even that was disappearing—faster than it should have, frankly. Vampire blood worked fast, but not this fast. Then again, Dimitri had always been different, though I hadn’t really noticed until I’d had cause to mark him.

He caught me studying him and flashed that familiar cocky grin, though there was something new behind it now—respect, or perhaps a better understanding of boundaries. Amazing what a thorough beating could do. The bruises might have healed, but the lesson would probably last much longer.

Pascal’s worried eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Sir, we’re being followed.”

I tensed, cursing under my breath. The black Mercedes, three cars back, kept a discreet distance. Keir Rankin, meticulousness as always. My phone rang, his name lighting up the screen.

“Rankin.” I already guessed why he was calling, why he was tailing us. This was how he operated—show what he knows, then deliver the real intel.

“I have some news about Balthazar.” His voice was clipped, professional.

I sat straighter in my seat. “And?”

“Word is that one of the four mafia kings conjured him. I know it wasn’t me, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you, so that leaves either Hunter or Barone.”

Maximo Barone. The human king played his role perfectly—all legitimacy and custom-tailored business suits. But I’d seen what lay beneath that polished veneer. He could have made a deal with Balthazar just as easily as Trystan Hunter could. But that burner phone pointed in the wolf king’s direction.

“Anything else?” In the mirror, I watched Rankin’s Mercedes maintain its discreet distance. He’d shadow us all the way to Trystan’s if I let him, gathering intel while keeping us in sights.

“Whoever conjured him has DuPont’s daughter Joy. Rumor has it she might not be human. I can’t confirm or deny that, but someone wants her badly enough to send a demon. She might have an unleashed power like your Nephilim.”

“Not human?” My mouth went dry. I’d seen enough supernatural being to know how devastating their power could be. This complicated things. It could explain why it was important that she go missing. Her power could rival Serenity’s. If she had angelic blood…

Tension crept my neck like icy fingers. “You think she’s another Nephilim?”

“Like I said, it’s only a rumor.”

“Well, find out if it’s true.”

“Working on it already. You on your way to see?—”

“You know exactly where I’m going, Rankin,” I snapped. “You wouldn’t be three cars back if you didn’t.” I watched his Mercedes signal for the same turn we’d just made. “Keep your distance. I’ll call you afterward.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course. Happy hunting.”

The call ended, but Rankin’s Mercedes remained—close enough to observe, far enough to deny any involvement if things went sideways at Trystan’s. Perfect positioning, as always. I had to admire his technique, even if being watched irritated me.

Enzo ran the Void Chain through his palm, the black metal links whispering against his skin. “You think he’s going to stay outside Trystan’s compound?”

I shrugged, watching Rankin’s Mercedes settle into position with military efficiency. “Depends on what happens at the front gate.” I could feel Moonfall’s cool presence against my ribs. “Rankin doesn’t want a war, but if things get ugly, he’ll move in. He’s our insurance, too—everyone’s witness that whatever happens next, Trystan started it.”

We finally pulled up to the front gate. The compound’s high walls loomed over us, multiple cameras tracking our every move. One of Trystan’s guards approached—a young wolf, trying too hard to look tough in his tactical gear. Please. I could smell his nerves from here.

I nodded and Pascal rolled down the window.

“Do you have an appointment?” The guard’s hand rested on his sidearm. As if bullets could stop me.

I pulled out my phone, dialing Trystan’s private number that he’d given me back when we were pretending to be civilized. “Open the damn gate, Trystan. We have business to discuss.” My voice held the kind of power that didn’t need to shout to be threatening.

“Meeting’s not until tonight,” he growled, but I heard the tension underneath. He knew what my early arrival meant.

“If you don’t open the gate…” I let each word fall like a stone. “Then I’ll assume you have something to hide and are declaring war.” It was a simple threat. Clean. The kind that couldn’t be misinterpreted.

The silence stretched out. I could almost see him weighing his options, calculating risks. His breathing was heavy through the phone—the wolf in him desperate to challenge, the king in him knowing better.

Finally, a growl. The line went dead.

The gate swung open with a mechanical whine. Trystan’s guard bared his teeth as we rolled past him. His attempt at menace was pathetic, barely a ripple in the ocean of threats I’d weathered.

Behind us, Rankin’s Mercedes pulled forward slightly, smooth as a shark following blood. He positioned himself for a clear view of whatever came next.

Enzo’s fingers tightened around the Void Chain. Dimitri’s smirk took on a hard edge. Even Pascal’s habitually impassive face showed a hint of anticipation.

Time to see if Trystan was smart enough to give up Serenity’s location, or if New Orleans was about to witness exactly what happened when someone took what belonged to me.