Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

S erenity

As the sun began its descent over the bayou, I turned my attention back to the untouched plate before me. The aroma of spicy shrimp jambalaya wafting up, normally so enticing, now served only to turn my stomach. I pushed the plate away, the fork clattering harshly against the ceramic in the quiet room.

My appetite had been replaced by a gnawing anxiety that tightened my throat. The thought of Gage with his hands around my neck made even the idea of swallowing difficult. I stood, leaving the cooling jambalaya, and moved closer to the barred window.

Outside, the bayou was transforming in the fading light. The setting sun painted the sky with vibrant oranges and purples, its reflection shimmering in the murky water below. Cypress trees cast long shadows across the swamp, their silhouettes stretching like dark fingers over the water’s surface.

As twilight deepened, a chorus of frogs began their nightly serenade, their croaks echoing across the water. The humid air carried the rich, earthy scent of decaying vegetation mixed with the sweet fragrance of blooming magnolias, overpowering the aroma of the abandoned meal behind me.

In the growing darkness, fireflies emerged, their tiny lights blinking on and off, and an owl hooted in the distance. Its mournful call sent a shiver down my spine—or perhaps that was from the memory of Gage’s threat, and the impending visit to the wolf mafia king’s estate to heal the Luparion Crystal.

As the last light faded, the sounds of nocturnal creatures grew louder, a symphony of chirps, croaks, and rustles that spoke of a world blissfully oblivious to my predicament. I pressed a hand against the cool glass, my reflection ghostly in the window, and listened to them, hoping they might soothe my fear.

The creak of the opening door sent a jolt through my body, causing my heart to race. “Time to go, beautiful.” Balthazar’s words felt like a death knell.

I stiffened, my muscles tensing as if preparing me for a fight or flight response. Turning around, confusion gripped me. Dread swelled within me when I saw Balthazar. Yet the sight of his bare, muscled chest glistening in the dim light stirred an instant attraction in me. I immediately felt ashamed. How could I feel anything but revulsion for my captor?

“What if I can’t heal the Crystal?” My voice quavered as I asked. The question hung heavy in the air, and cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I contemplated the possibility of failure and its consequences. Would death be preferable to whatever they had planned for me?

Balthazar’s outstretched hand seemed both an offer and a threat. “You will be able to heal the stone if you choose to—if you do so willingly. Come,” he commanded. The way he pointedly ignored my question amplified my fear, allowing my imagination to run wild with horrific possibilities.

Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his, feeling as if I was sealing my own doom. The eerie sensation that washed over me once more at his touch sent shivers down my spine. It was a feeling of wrongness, of the unnatural, that penetrated to my very core. Confusion mingled with my fear; why did touching him feel so terrible and yet so pleasurable? Was this a normal reaction to all demons, or was it something unique to Balthazar?

I hated lacking this crucial knowledge and feeling so woefully unprepared, ignorant and helpless in the face of evil. If Angelo was to find me, he needed something to track, some way to reach me before it was too late. Meanwhile, my powers were uncontrollable, as I was constantly finding out. If I didn’t heal this wolf stone, I was a dead Nephilim.

As Balthazar led me out of the room, a cocktail of emotions swirled within me: fear of the unknown, shame at my body’s reaction to Balthazar and confusion over the strange sensations his touch evoked, and a deep, pervasive sense of vulnerability and powerlessness. Yet beneath it all, a small spark of defiance remained, urging me to stay alert and watch for any opportunity that might arise to change my fate.

That’s what Angelo would do. To survive, I was going to have to be ruthless, like him.

Balthazar led me down the hallway, my heart rate quickening with each step. At the far end, standing next to an exterior door, I could make out three figures waiting for us. Gage’s imposing silhouette was unmistakable, even at a distance, causing my breath to catch. The memory of his hands around my neck flashed through my mind, making me instinctively want to retreat.

As we drew closer, the figures came into sharper focus. Gage stood in the middle, his muscular frame tense and alert, ready to pounce. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto mine, making goosebumps erupt up all over my skin.

To Gage’s left stood a man I didn’t recognize. He was shorter than Gage but no less intimidating, with broad shoulders and a deep scar running down the side of his face. His presence radiated danger, and I found myself unconsciously leaning away from him. But it was the man on Gage’s right that truly made my heart stutter, and my blood run cold.

Petar Dragan.

I stumbled, my legs suddenly weak. Bitterness swelled inside me as memories of his betrayal and the terror of my kidnapping crashed over me.

Petar’s gelled-backed hair gleamed under the hallway lights, reminding me of an oil slick on water. His eyes darted around nervously, never settling on one spot for long, until finally they locked on mine. In that moment, I saw dark cruelty flash behind his nervous facade, and my stomach lurched.

“You,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

It was all I could muster. I couldn’t even bring myself to say his name. Rage boiled inside me as I remembered how he’d manipulated me, lying about Joy being hurt to lure me away. The memory of my panic, my desperate rush to help my friend only to fall into his trap, made me want to lash out at him right there.

He would pay for that deception, for turning my love for Joy against me. Angelo would see to it.

Petar’s thin lips curled into what I suppose he thought was a charming smile, but it only served to heighten my unease. Something about him had always set my teeth on edge, but now, knowing what he’d done, the feeling had erupted like a burst boil, oozing with foul-smelling pus. He reminded me of every sleazy used car salesman and unscrupulous politician I’d ever encountered, rolled into one unsavory, festering wound.

As we approached, I could smell Petar’s overpowering cologne, a cloying scent that stuck in my throat and mingled unpleasantly with the aroma of the bayou still clinging to my clothes. The combination was nauseating.

I tried to steel myself, to project an air of confidence I didn’t feel. Inside, my mind was racing. What was Petar even doing here? His presence suggested that whatever was about to happen involved not just supernatural politics, but the human criminal element as well. The situation, already dire, suddenly felt even more complex and dangerous.

Despite my fear, I forced myself to stand tall, meeting each man’s gaze in turn. I might be their captive, but I refused to let them see me cower. Angelo never showed fear. I was his mate and had to show that I was worthy of being so. I had survived Freaky Freddie and I would survive this. Angelo always said, “I believe in you.” Right now, those words were my lifeline, the only thing keeping me from crumbling under the weight of their collective stares.

“Hello, Serenity,” Petar said, his face splitting into a big, oily smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

His smug tone ignited my fury. Without thinking, I lunged forward, my hand raised to slap his face. But before I could make contact, Balthazar caught my arm in his iron grip, yanking me back. As I struggled in his hold, a sleek limousine pulled up outside, is arrival momentarily distracting me.

Petar’s eyes flashed with anger. “You’ll pay for that little outburst,” he snarled. Then his tone shifted and became sickeningly sweet. “I have a gift for you.”

It was only then that I noticed the burlap sack in his hand, the words ‘Idaho Potatoes’ stamped across it in faded letters.

“What—” I started to say, but Petar was too quick.

Before I could react, he lunged forward and pulled the sack over my head. Darkness engulfed me, the rough fabric scratching against my skin.

I was hustled outside and into the vehicle, then the car door slammed shut and the vehicle lurched into motion. The world outside the burlap sack was a cacophony of muddled sounds—the purr of the engine, the crunch of gravel under the tires, the low murmur of voices I couldn’t quite make out.

My neck still hurt where Gage had gripped me yesterday, and I didn’t want another round of him trying to squeeze the life out of me. The stale smell of potatoes from the sack mingled with the leathery scent of the car interior, creating a nauseating cocktail that made my stomach churn. Each inhalation was a struggle.

As we drove my mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information I had. Petar’s betrayal…the Luparion Crystal…Gage’s threats… They all swirled in my head like a chaotic storm. What did they really want from me? And more importantly, how was I going to get out of this alive?

I tried to focus on my other senses, attempting to glean any information about where we might be heading. The car felt like it was moving fast, with few stops or turns. Were we on a highway heading away from the city? The thought of being taken even further from potential help sent a fresh wave of panic through me.

Despite the fear coursing through my veins, I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. Stay calm , I told myself. Look for opportunities. Be patient. It’s what Angelo would do.

That was how I had escaped Freddie for years, too. Until—no. I didn’t want to think about that.

My fingers twitched, itching to summon my Nephilim powers. But I knew better than to try that now. I was blindfolded, surrounded by enemies in a moving vehicle. One wrong move and I could kill all of us. This wasn’t the time. I’d just have to wait for another opportunity.

I focused instead on filing away every detail I could—the duration of the ride, the turns we took, any distinctive sounds or smells outside.

As the car continued its journey to the wolf mafia king’s home, a grim determination settled over me. I might be their captive, but I refused to be their victim.

The car hit a bump, jostling me against whoever sat beside me. A familiar wave of revulsion, automatic and completely unbidden, told me it was Balthazar. His presence, though threatening, was oddly reassuring. He had shown some mercy earlier when he called off Gage. Perhaps, if things went south, I could use the apparent tension between them to my advantage.

Hope crystallized in my mind. I would survive this, whatever it took. I’d survived living with a single mom, survived her death, even survived Angelo buying me. I could do it again. I would get back to Angelo.

I settled back in the seat and recited a silent prayer, wedged between my two of my captors.

Angelo, be safe. I’ll find you. Just know I love you.