Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

A ngelo

I kicked open the door to my secret room, the heavy wood splintering under my boot. With a snarl, I hurled Dimitri inside. He careened across the room, crashing into an array of gleaming instruments of torture hanging on the far wall. Metal clattered to the floor around him as he slumped, gasping.

Dimitri raised his head, blood streaming from his nose and a fresh gash on his forehead. Newly formed bruises on his neck had already darkened to an ugly purple. He spat out a mouthful of blood, then looked around the room with exaggerated interest. “Private party, eh?” he wheezed, attempting a smirk that came out more as a grimace. “Your events are getting rather exclusive, Angelo.”

His flippant tone made my blood boil. I flew across the room, pinning him to the wall, my hands at his throat. “Joke while you can, Dimitri. This might be the last time you use that smart mouth of yours.”

Dimitri’s eyes glinted with amusement and dangerous defiance. “Promises, promises. You know, your hospitality leaves something to be desired. No wine? Not even an imported cheese platter? Tsk tsk.”

“I’m a centuries-old made vampire with Dracula’s blood coursing through my veins, you insignificant ingrate,” I growled, my face inches from his. “You’re nothing but a born vampire playing little power games.” I tightened my grip, feeling his pulse flutter weakly under my palm. “Your pathetic quips won’t save you here. Keep them up, and the only thing you’ll be tasting is your own blood.”

“Hmm, well, they do say a liquid diet is good for the figure,” Dimitri smirked, though I did notice a flicker of genuine fear pass through his eyes as they darted over the bloodstained implements around us.

I grabbed a wicked-looking blade from the wall, pressing it against his cheek. “Last chance, Dimitri. Tell me everything about Serenity’s disappearance, that dagger, and my ring. Or I’ll show you just how creative I can get with my toys.”

Dimitri’s smirk faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Well, since you put it that way... How about we start with truth or dare? Though I have a feeling you’re not much for dare right now.”

I leaned closer, my voice a deadly whisper. “I have countless ways to make you talk, Dimitri. Your screams won’t leave this room, and neither will you if I don’t get what I want.”

Dimitri’s breath turned ragged and gasping, each inhalation painful against his bruised throat. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, and his words were slurred and broken.

“L-look,” he wheezed, wincing, “I... I’ll admit I took the ring.” He paused, coughing violently, specks of blood spraying from his lips. “N-needed it to melt the Malefic Puppets—a curse the high priestess put on...my brother and Gianna.” His eyes, glassy with pain, sought mine. “Only…only thing...that would negate her power.”

My jaw clenched, fury and skepticism warring within me. Part of me wanted to believe him—to think that this betrayal had a purpose beyond greed. But a larger part, the part consumed by fear for Serenity’s safety and rage at her disappearance, wouldn’t let me accept his words so easily.

“A likely story,” I snarled, my voice trembling with barely contained anger. I leaned in closer, my face inches from his. “If that was true, why not just ask me for it?” The question came out as a roar, bouncing off the walls of the torture chamber.

Dimitri flinched, fear flashing across his battered face. His eyes darted away for a moment, a flicker of shame or possibly regret in them. It was gone before I could be sure.

“It’s…complicated.”

His hesitation ignited something savage within me. With a roar that tore from the depths of my soul, I unleashed a barrage of punches. Each impact sent a sickening crunch through the room, blood and spittle flying with every blow. My knuckles split, but I barely felt it. Betrayal, fear for Serenity, helpless rage—it all poured out in a tsunami of violence.

“What else?” I snarled between strikes. “What. Aren’t. You. Telling. Me?” Each word was punctuated by another devastating blow.

Dimitri’s head snapped back and forth like a broken doll’s. Blood streamed from his nose, his lips split and swollen. He gurgled, choking on his own blood, struggling to form words. His face was so beaten as to be unrecognizable.

I paused to let him speak, my chest heaving. My hands trembled, knuckles coated in his blood and mine.

“P-Petar,” Dimitri rasped, the name barely understandable on his ruined lips. “He…made...me...”

I froze, my fist raised for another blow, the name hitting me like a physical blow. “What did you say?” I hissed, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back.

His eyes, almost swollen shut, held pain and desperation. “Petar...” he choked out, each word a struggle. “Would have killed Valentin if I didn’t...get the mirror.”

The mention of a mirror sent a fresh wave of rage through me. My grip on his hair tightened, a growl building in my chest. “The mirror? You took the Moirai Mirror as well? Why, you bastard, why?”

“He... He wouldn’t tell me,” Dimitri gasped, his words slurred. “Just said he had to give the mirror to someone. I don’t...don’t know who.”

“Wrong answer.” The words left my mouth in a feral growl as I plunged a blade deep into his shoulder—not just any blade, but one imbued with the essence of sunlight, a weapon that inflicted unimaginable pain on our kind.

His anguished scream echoed off the walls of the chamber. Blood, darker than human blood, poured from the wound, and the scent of burning flesh filled the air. The blade worked its cruel magic, simulating the agony of sunlight coursing through his veins.

Dimitri struggled against me, his body in torment, but he was no match for my strength. His eyes, wide with shock and pain, locked onto mine, silently pleading for mercy.

I leaned in close, my face inches from his. The acrid smell of his burning flesh mixed with the metallic scent of blood in my nostrils, but I didn’t flinch. My voice was a deadly whisper, each word dripping with lethal intent.

“Tell me everything, Dimitri. Every word Petar said.” I twisted the blade slightly, eliciting another agonized howl. “Your life depends on it. And trust me, this pain is nothing compared to what I’ll do if you hold anything back.”

Dimitri’s labored breathing filled the silence as he struggled to form words through the haze of pain. Finally, panting and trembling, he managed to rasp out, “Petar... he didn’t tell me much. Just that it was... the only way... to save Valentin and Gianna.”

I arched an eyebrow. “So you decided to play hero, steal from me and endanger my mate? How wonderfully noble of you.” I slow-clapped, the sound echoing ominously in the chamber. “I’m touched. Truly. Maybe we should alert the Nobel Peace Prize committee.”

I leaned in again, my smirk fading into a dangerous glare. “Did it never occur to your brilliant mind that perhaps coming to me might have been a better option? Instead of, you know, stealing my things?”

Dimitri leaned his head against the wall, a mirthless chuckle escaping his bloodied lips. "For some reason, I didn't think you would take it well if I asked," he rasped. "And I thought you'd believe Petar over me."

"Poor choices, Dimitri. Now, you're the guest in my special room." I narrowed my eyes. "Perhaps next time you'll remember that stealing from me has... consequences."

He clicked his tongue. "Well, well. Look who's got trust issues. I'm hurt, Angelo. Truly." Dimitri pressed a hand dramatically over his heart. "And here I thought we were besties. Sharing blood bags, braiding each other's hair..."

Dimitri let out a choked laugh, wincing as the movement jarred his injuries, a ghost of his usual smirk flitting across his battered face.

The copper scent of blood hung thick in the air between us, mixing with the cloying humidity that seeped through the old mansion's walls. Outside, a thunderstorm rolled in from the Gulf, each rumble vibrating through the shuttered windows of the converted attic. The ancient floorboards had witnessed a century of secrets, and now they'd keep ours too.

I circled him slowly, my shoes creaking against worn wood. "You know what I find interesting?" I ran my finger along the edge of the metal table beside him, centuries of practiced control in every movement. "You're still trying to joke your way out of this. Old habits die hard, don't they?"

"What can I say?" Dimitri's eyes tracked my movement, tension betraying his casual tone. "Comedy's my coping mechanism. Though I have to admit—" he gestured to the array of implements on the table, their steel surfaces gleaming dully in the gas lamp's light "—your decorating choices aren't exactly inspiring my best material."

"Then perhaps—" I selected a slender blade, watching his reflection fragment in its surface "—we should focus on inspiring your honesty instead. Tell me where my mirror is."

A muscle twitched in Dimitri's jaw, the first crack in his facade. "Angelo..." His voice dropped its playful edge. "I don't have it anymore."

"No?" The blade caught the lamplight as I turned it. "Then who does?"

Dimitri's eyes dropped to the floor, something like shame crossing his features. "My father. He said... he said someone wanted it. Wouldn't tell me who." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Guess betrayal runs in the family, huh?"

"Your father." My voice went flat. “Petar has my mirror." The blade stilled in my hand. "And you gave it to him without asking who wanted it?"

"I didn't think?—"

"No," I cut him off, cold fury seeping into my voice. "You didn't think. I gave your father a chance. That was my mistake. Yours was handing over something that doesn't belong to you, to a man who's spent years perfecting the art of betrayal. Like father, like son."

Dimitri’s eyes flashed with fear and desperation. “You don’t understand,” he rasped. “I’ve never trusted my father. I thought… I thought he was setting me up, and now I know I was right.” He swallowed hard, wincing at the effort. “That dagger you found? He must have planted it in my drawer. He’s always three steps ahead. I’m just another pawn in his games.”

I paused, studying Dimitri’s face, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. He was so bloodied and in so much of pain, I didn’t think he would lie to me, but then again… He was Dimitri Dragan.

And he always had tricks up his sleeve.

After a moment, I twirled the blade between my fingers, the threat still clear. “Interesting theory. But even if your Daddy Dearest is playing chess while we’re playing checkers, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re in a mess. Here's a wild idea. How about you start trusting me? Because believe me, the alternative..." I gestured around the torture chamber. "Well, let's just say I'm just getting warmed up."

Dimitri’s lips twitched into a pained smirk. “Funny you should say that,” he breathed, each word an effort. “I’m starting to think Petar’s idea of a family reunion might be less painful than your idea of a party.”

I couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle. “Oh, Dimitri. Always with the jokes. Let’s be real—you’ve seen what Petar’s capable of. You really want to test that theory?”

Grabbing his chin, I forced him to meet my gaze. “We’re going to try this again. Start talking. Every detail about Petar’s plan. What he said, what he didn’t. Hell, you’re going to tell me what color underwear he was wearing. And if you don’t...” I let the blade hover near his other shoulder. “Let’s just say I have a lot more creative ideas that make this sunlight blade look like a moonlit stroll on the beach. Comprende ?”

As I hovered the blade near Dimitri’s shoulder, a sudden jolt of energy surged through me, the world around me blurred, and the torture chamber faded away.

I need you, Angelo. Find me.

Serenity’s voice, clear and desperate, penetrated my mind. It was followed by a series of images: dark rippling water, moonlight, the smell of swamp and decay. Serenity’s face came into focus, pale and drawn. It was bad enough that her eyes were wide with fear. But what really made my blood run cold were the dark, ugly bruises marring her delicate neck, standing out against her pale skin.

There was something else too that made my ancient blood run cold—a presence, dark and malevolent, hovering just out of sight. The unmistakable taint of powerful evil permeated the vision.

Demon.

The word flashed in my mind, certain and terrifying.

The vision fizzled out, leaving me gasping and shaking. I stumbled back from Dimitri, the blade clattering to the floor. A feral growl rumbled in my chest as my predatory nature took over.

Dimitri just looked at me, fresh fear etched on his battered face.

I whirled on him, my vision tinted red with fury. “Someone’s hurting Serenity,” I snarled, snatching up the blade. “She’s alive, but she’s injured and... There’s something else there. An evil presence. Demonic.”

Dimitri’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut widened in genuine shock. “Demonic?! Angelo, I swear, I don’t know anything about?—”

A pounding on the door cut him off. Enzo’s deep voice came through the thick wood. “Boss, it’s important. You’re going to want to hear this.” At the same time, I heard Gianna’s voice, frantic and muffled. “Angelo! Angelo, stop! You need to hear what I have to say! Don’t listen to Enzo. He’s lying!”

She sounded so desperate. It must be something truly horrible for her to be turning on Enzo.

I stood frozen, torn between my burning desire to continue extracting information from Dimitri and my need to hear what Gianna and Enzo were arguing about. Serenity’s plea rang in my ears, her bruised neck and the evil presence flashing in my mind. Every second wasted was a second she remained in unimaginable danger.

“Tick tock, Angelo,” Dimitri whispered, his voice still wheezing but with a hint of his old smugness. “Sounds like the cavalry’s here. What’s it going to be?”