Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

A ngelo

I forced myself to stay seated, though every instinct screamed to leap out of the limo. Control was everything in my world—it was what separated kings from rabid dogs. But with Serenity missing, my control was slipping through my fingers. My fingers drummed against my thighs, betraying the beast I was barely keeping caged.

“Well, well.” Dimitri’s lips curved into a smirk. “Look who’s decided to crash our little party. And here I thought Rankin had better things to do than follow us. Like, oh, I don’t know—run his own territory.” He lounged back in his seat, radiating that particular brand of dangerous amusement. “Should we send him an invitation next time? Maybe a fruit basket?”

Sarcasm dripped from his every word, but I caught the calculated gleam in his eyes as he watched Rankin’s car. Dimitri’s jokes had teeth sometimes.

Pascal parked the limousine in front of Trystan’s plantation mansion. The white Corinthian columns rose like bones against the sky, the whole place reeking of old money and territorial pride. He got out and opened the door for Enzo, who emerged with the Void Chain coiled in his hand like a sleeping snake.

I didn’t wait for the clearance ritual and scrambled out right after Enzo. My patience had died somewhere between Serenity’s disappearance and the discovery of Trystan’s betrayal. The beast in me was clawing at my control, demanding blood and revenge. One wrong move, and every shifter on this property would learn exactly why vampires had ruled New Orleans for centuries.

Dimitri slid out the other side, his usual smirk gone. Even he knew when to dial back the jokes.

Gage, Trystan’s enforcer, and Stalker, another of Trystan’s men, were waiting at the top of the stairs like particularly grim sentries. Their faces had that unique look reserved for men who knew they were guarding the wrong side but were in too deep to back out now.

Poor bastards.

Another car door whispered shut behind us and Keir and Lorcan materialized from their vehicle, moving with that predatory grace that marked the truly dangerous. My eyes snapped to the sky, searching for Lorcan’s harpies. The blue expanse looked clear except for a scattering of white clouds—which unfortunately was the perfect cover for those winged nightmares.

“This is a private party,” I said, fixing Keir with a glare that would have sent smarter men running.

“Apologies. Consider it officially crashed.” Keir met my gaze without flinching. Always did have more balls than sense.

“Why are you here, Rankin?”

He shrugged, the gesture too casual to be anything but calculated. “This little war of yours could threaten my empire, Santi. I’m here to make sure my interests are protected.”

“Bullshit. You want to know if Trystan is working with Balthazar.” I didn’t bother framing it as a question.

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in the matter.”

I nodded, weighing his words against what I knew of him. Keir played his own game—always had. I wasn’t naive enough to think he was on my side, but at the same time, he surely wasn’t stupid enough to trust Balthazar. The demon’s reputation for betrayal was as legendary as his cruelty.

Trystan was about to learn a hard lesson about dealing with demons. By the time this was over, his little power play would explode in his face—and I’d make sure to be standing far enough back to enjoy the show, but close enough to twist the knife.

Gage narrowed his eyes that went from brown to gold. “You don’t scare me, vampire.”

“Oh, that’s adorable.” Dimitri touched the last trace of a bruise on his jaw. “I said something similar just last week. Spoiler”—he gestured at his healing face with a theatrical flourish—“it didn’t end well. But hey, knock yourself out, keep poking the homicidal vampire. I’ll just stand back here and watch. Anyone bring popcorn?”

The gold in Gage’s eyes flickered, his gaze darting between my cold smile and Dimitri’s fresh bruises. Keir sighed heavily, like a teacher dealing with a particularly obtuse student. “You’re not really that foolish, are you, wolf? Santi’s one step from declaring war and you’re acting like he’s a kid in a mask. Would you like me to list the body count from his last territorial dispute, or shall we skip the history lesson and move on to the part where you fucking take us to Trystan?”

“Trystan did say to let them in, Gage,” Stalker muttered as he opened the door.

I brushed past Gage. One false move, and forget the Moonfall blade, I’d just drain him dry. I didn’t bother waiting for Trystan’s men to show me to him. I knew where the little puppy held court.

Two guards flanked the study door, hands on their weapons. I didn’t bother with ceremony. One moment I was standing outside the door, the next I’d torn through it with a crack that echoed through the mansion like a gunshot.

Trystan sat behind his mahogany desk, playing king. Above him, a massive painting of his white wolf dominated the wall—all fangs and fury, intended to remind visitors what lurked just beneath his tailored suit. Cheap theatrics. My black wolf was equally as massive and deadly when I chose to transform into it, and I didn’t need wall art to advertise it.

“Santi.” His lips curved into that insufferable smile that had started wars before. “Why so impatient?”

The room reeked of arrogance and lies. I was done playing these games, pretending at civility. I moved around the desk in a blur of vampire speed, hands already reaching for his throat.

Steel-strong fingers locked around my arm, yanking me back. Fae strength, face speed. Both surprising and infuriating.

“Not yet,” Keir gritted between his teeth, his usual diplomatic mask cracking. When Fae or Dark Fae moved, they moved like lightning. Right now, luckily for Trystan, Keir was the only thing standing between the wolf king and a very messy death at my hands.

I wrenched free of his grip, my fangs aching to descend. But Keir was right—we needed to play this smart. “Show him, Dimitri.”

“A little present.” Dimitri’s smirk had hardened into something darker as he tossed the burner phone onto Trystan’s desk. It landed like a thousand accusations. “Next time you decide to make secret calls to demons, maybe don’t do it in vampire territory.”

The phone sat between us like a loaded gun. Trystan’s smile didn’t waver, but something flickered in his eyes—calculation, maybe, or fear. Either way, he knew the game had just changed.

Trystan stared at the phone, his face a mask of practiced neutrality. “Where did you get that?”

The Moonfall blade whispered against silk as I drew it from my jacket. The sacred steel caught the light, hungry for wolf blood. “Never mind. How about you tell me where Serenity is.”

Keir stepped forward, his voice poison. “I suggest you tell us the truth, Trystan.” His eyes fixed on the wolf king. “Is that phone yours?”

Trystan flipped through the messages with the casual air of a man reading a dinner menu, not evidence that could start a war. But there were tells—a slight tightening around his eyes, a finger hesitating over certain texts.

Stalker’s face had drained of color, the blood abandoning ship before the storm hit. But Gage wore a smirk that spoke volumes. It was the kind of expression a man gets when he finally sees his boss cornered and doesn’t hate it. Interesting.

“Bring Ivan to me.” Trystan’s eyes flicked to Gage, cold as winter steel.

The smirk vanished from Gage’s face like it had been slapped off. He left without a word, his footsteps just a little too quick.

I let Moonfall dance between my fingers, the blade catching the light with each turn. The weapon’s presence made the air heavy, charged with the promise of violence. “Are you saying that burner phone isn’t yours?”

“No.” Trystan’s voice was steady, reasonable. Perfect for a lie. “But I paid for it. It belongs to one of my enforcers—Ivan Toser. He said he lost it.” His eyes met mine, a clear challenge in them. “How did this fall into your hands?”

Dimitri glanced at me, one eyebrow arching, clearly asking permission to drop the bomb.

I nodded, curious to see how the wolf king would handle hearing about the rats in his court.

“Gage slipped it into my pocket as an early Christmas present.” Dimitri delivered the line with theatrical flair, but his eyes were sharp, watching for a reaction. “I’d have preferred a gift card, but hey?—”

The words hadn’t even finished leaving his mouth before rage transformed Trystan’s face. His aristocratic blue eyes blazed molten gold, the wolf beneath his skin clawing to get out. “Get. Gage.” The words came out midway between human speech and animal growl.

Stalker bolted from the study like Death itself was on his heels. Given the fury radiating off Trystan, maybe it was.

The change rippled through Trystan and the careful facade of civility peeled away as he emerged from behind his desk—hair sprouting thick and wild down his head and arms, fingernails extending into curved daggers, his canines lengthening into razors and splitting his perfect politician’s smile into something savage.

Stalker burst back in, twisting a third man’s arm behind his back.

“Let me go,” the man gasped—Ivan, I presumed. Perfect. Almost all the players were finally on stage. But Gage’s absence nagged at me. Trystan had sent him to retrieve Ivan, yet here was Stalker instead.

I sat quietly, waiting for the real show to begin.

Clearly, it nagged at Trystan too. His glare shifted from Stalker to the empty doorway. “Where’s Gage? I sent him to get Ivan.”

Stalker shoved Ivan at Trystan’s feet. “Dunno. I found Ivan scaling down the wall. No sign of Gage.”

“Ivan.” Trystan’s voice dropped low. “Did Gage tell you to come down here?”

Ivan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his face draining of color. “No.”

A lie. Fear rolled off him in waves—if I could smell it, Trystan certainly could.

I watched Trystan’s rage was a tangible force as he snatched Ivan off the floor and slammed him against the wall. The plaster cracked, sending a spiderweb of fissures racing up to the ceiling. “You. Betrayed. Me.”

“What?” Ivan’s feet kicked uselessly against the wall, his hands scrabbling at Trystan’s grip like a mouse caught in a trap. “No, I didn’t—I swear. I—” His protests devolved into a choked gurgle.

The wolf king’s control was slipping. I could smell it. His eyes flared with unholy yellow light as he hurled Ivan across the room. The desk splintered under the impact, papers scattering like confetti. I didn’t move to help either of them. Let them tear each other apart; it would save me the trouble.

“Why did Gage give Dimitri Dragan your phone?” Trystan’s voice had dropped to that register that made small animals freeze.

Blood painted Ivan’s lips as he crumpled to his knees. Each word came out between desperate gasps. “Gage...forced me. He wants... He wants to be king.” His head bowed in submission—too late for that now. “If I didn’t do what he said… he would kill my mate.”

My fingers tightened on Moonfall’s hilt. Gage. The pieces were falling into place.

Trystan’s hand shot out, taking Ivan’s head back by the hair. “They have Shannon?”

“He gave…” Ivan’s voice broke like shattered glass. “He gave her to the demon.”

I caught Dimitri’s eye. Balthazar. Of course the demon would be involved in this coup.

“Where are they?” Trystan twisted harder, and I heard tendons creak as his control finally snapped. His fangs sank deep into Ivan’s shoulder, eliciting a scream that could have wakened the dead. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, sweet and metallic.

“Shadowmoon,” Ivan sobbed. “Your grandfather’s old place.”

Blood dripped from Trystan’s mouth as he released his bite. I smiled. His grandfather’s abandoned den. I knew the abandoned den—every vampire in New Orleans kept tabs on old wolf territory. It was the perfect hole for traitors to hide.

And now we knew exactly where to find them.