Page 47 of Oath of Blood and Joy

“All I know is that it was abandoned and used during the War of 1812.” She raised her head, a hint of certainty returning, as if pleased to provide something concrete. “One of the girls who... disappeared... she was taken there first. She managed to send a text to her friend here before her phone was taken. Said it wasin the bayou, surrounded by water and cypress trees. Almost impossible to find unless you know where to look.”

The information clicked into place in my mind—a fortress hidden in the swamps, dating back to America’s second war against the British, a perfect place to hide someone you didn’t want found. The Louisiana bayou was a labyrinth of waterways and isolated islands, a place where screams would be swallowed by wilderness and secrets could remain buried forever.

My jaw tightened as images of Joy trapped in such a place flashed through my mind. How long had she been there? What had Maximo done to her? The glass of the mirror beside us cracked slightly under the pressure of my fingers—a lapse in control I hadn’t experienced in decades.

“The mirror,” she gasped, flinching back as the crack spread like a spider’s web across the reflective surface. Her eyes widened at this casual display of strength, a physical reminder of what I was capable of. Her heart rate spiked, the rhythm changing from fear to something closer to awe mingled with terror.

I pulled my hand away, brushing glass dust from my fingertips. The scent of her fear had changed subtly—no longer afraid of me, but of what would happen when I left. My mind raced, calculating how to ensure her safety after I departed.

“Tell Duncan that I tasted your charms and that’s how the mirror got broken.” I stared at her, willing her to follow my instructions that might save her life. “Then you told me that Joy was dead so I would stop looking for her.”

Hope flickered across her features, quickly replaced by doubt. She bit her lower lip, leaving a small smear of gloss on her teeth. “Will he believe that?”

“Yes.” I gave her a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, the kind that had made hardened criminals confess their sins. Thekind that promised consequences for those who crossed me. “I’ll make sure he does.”

Understanding passed between us—an unspoken assurance that Duncan would have more to worry about than questioning her story once I was finished with him. The red light caught the tears still clinging to her lashes, making them glisten like drops of blood.

She clasped my arm with her trembling hand, her touch featherlight, desperate. Her fingers were ice cold with fear, nails bitten to the quick. “Remember your promise about my sister?”

I covered her small hand with mine, a gesture I hadn’t made in decades—physical comfort was rarely part of my role as enforcer. “I’ll remember. And I keep my promises.”

My vow settled around us, more binding than any contract written in ink. In that moment, her fate and her sister’s became entangled with mine—another responsibility I hadn’t sought but wouldn’t shirk. The mirrored walls created a haunting kaleidoscope—a monster making a promise to save a child, both knowing that blood would be spilled before the night was through.

I paused at the door, realizing a critical flaw in our plan. If she acted fearful or nervous, Duncan would suspect something. She needed to act normal—as if nothing more significant than a routine private dance had occurred. The slightest hint of our conversation would put her in grave danger.

I clasped her arms gently but firmly, feeling the delicate bones beneath my fingers. Her skin was warm against my cool touch, her pulse racing with adrenaline. Drawing on my compulsion, I focused my will into a concentrated force, letting the power build until it tingled through my fingertips and into her consciousness.

“You will act normal,” I commanded, my voice taking on a hypnotic quality that no human could resist. I caught myreflection in the mirror—my pupils dilating as the power flowed between us, creating an unbreakable connection. “Nothing is amiss. You danced for me and I kissed you—nothing more. That’s how the mirror got broken.”

The air between us seemed to thicken as the compulsion took hold. Gloria’s breathing slowed, her pupils expanding until her eyes were mostly black. The fear drained from her scent, replaced by a calm compliance that would keep her safe until I could fulfill my promise.

“I understand,” she responded, almost dreamlike. The transformation was subtle but complete—her posture relaxed, her expression shifting to the practiced seductive mask she wore for clients. Even the way she held her hands changed, no longer protective but casual.

I released her and adjusted my suit jacket, smoothing away any evidence of our intense conversation. I placed a hand lightly at the small of her back as I escorted her out of the room, the gesture possessive enough to satisfy watching eyes.

The club’s cacophony hit us as we reentered the main area—pounding music, clinking glasses, the murmur of desperate conversations. The shifting colored lights played across faces frozen in various states of artificial pleasure. Gloria moved casually at my side.

I scanned the room for Duncan, my eyes cutting through the manufactured haze and darkness with preternatural clarity. My senses extended beyond human limitation, searching for his heartbeat, his scent, any trace of the man who had marked Gloria’s wrists with chains.

But he wasn’t at his usual post. The spot where he’d been standing was now occupied by one of Maximo’s lower-ranking men, a thug whose name I’d never bothered to learn. Where had the bastard gone? A ripple of unease moved through me. Duncan’s absence felt calculated rather than coincidental.

I maintained my mask of bored indifference while my mind raced through possibilities, none of them good. Had he somehow sensed my true purpose? Was Gloria’s performance not the only trap laid tonight? My fangs instinctively pressed against my gums, ready to extend at a moment’s notice. The predator within me stirred fully awake now, senses heightening further as I continued my casual surveillance, ready to unleash centuries of lethal power should an ambush be taking shape around me.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Enzo

Duncan’s disappearance unnerved me. My fingers drummed restlessly against the fabric of my jacket as I scanned the crowded bar, the scent of blood and alcohol heavy in the air. The mixture would have been intoxicating any other night, but now it only reminded me of time slipping away. I wanted to use compulsion on Duncan to discover the name of the fort where Maximo had taken Joy. Her absence was a physical ache beneath my ribs, a hollow space that grew with each passing hour.

Steve headed over to me, weaving through the crowd with predatory grace. His eyes still held a hint of crimson at the edges—feeding, but controlled. I looked for the girl he’d gone into the room with and luckily, she walked out behind him, looking a little dazed. Her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat, but her steps were steady. Dazed I could deal with. Dead was another matter.

“Good. You didn’t kill her,” I said, as I took a seat in a torn booth. The velvet seat compressed beneath me, sticky and worn like most places that traffic in depraved pleasures.

Steve’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath his pale skin. “I got the message, Enzo.” He touched the silver chain at his wrist—something that Joy had given him. “Thinking about going into Angelo’s secret room kept my hunger at bay.”

“What did you find out?” I drummed my fingers on the bar.

“The girl didn’t know much except about some fort near Whisper Lake.” Steve shrugged, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement. “I’ve never heard of it. Have you?”

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