Page 55 of Oath of Blood and Joy

Enzo

Disgust rippled through me, churning in my gut like acid as I looked at the young girls. Their fear-soaked scent filled the room, making my fangs itch beneath my gums. Maximo had always been beneath me with his prostitution ring, but this was different.

Maximo wasn’t human. I could taste it in his men’s blood—that sulfuric, rancid flavor that belonged to Dark Demons. I could only surmise that the real Maximo was dead and that Ari—or one of his kind—had taken over his enterprise. It had to be Ari, or at least one of his kind. The Dark Demon who could shift into anyone. The question being: if this was Ari, why was he involved with this? Did he need money? And why take Joy?

My chest constricted at the thought of her—Joy—locked in that metal box where I’d found her an hour ago. Her muffled cries still echoed in my mind, driving me to tear the lock apart with my bare hands. The rage I’d felt then returned tenfold now, a cold fury that made my vision sharpen and my muscles coil tight. I’d torn through Maximo’s men tonight with a savagerythat had surprised even me. Three centuries of control, undone by the sight of her bruised body and terrified eyes.

I forced myself back to the present, to the task at hand.

“These things taste like hell’s backwash,” Dimitri drawled, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Literally.” His eyes darkened as he surveyed the trembling girls huddled in the corner. For all his cavalier attitude, even Dimitri had lines he wouldn’t cross. “So your little box girl led us to this hellhole? I’m starting to think she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

A growl rumbled in my chest before I could stop it, surprising even myself with its intensity. Dimitri raised his eyebrows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Touchy subject?”

I had Joy now and Ari would never touch her again. The fierce protectiveness of that thought shocked me, but I didn’t push it away. She’d awakened something in me the first time I saw her passing out those damn flyers about Serenity—something I thought long dead after centuries of blood and darkness. The way she looked at me, not with fear but with something dangerously close to trust, made my heart feel alive again. Her warmth, her stubborn courage even when facing monsters—I’d burn this city to the ground before I’d let Ari near her again.

I remained seated next to the huddled girls, forcing my features to soften despite the bloodlust still pumping through me. Getting these girls to safety was the priority now. Then I could return to Joy, make sure she was protected. Make sure she was safe. Make sure she stayed mine.

“We need to move,” I said, ignoring Dimitri’s maddening grin. “The longer we stay here, the more time Maximo has to get reinforcements.”

My eyes locked with the oldest girl’s. “I made a promise to someone that I’d get you out.” I stuck out my hand. “All of you. And I don’t break my promises.”

“You mean Joy?” The girl gripped my hand with her shaking one, her fingers ice cold against my skin. Her eyes widened with recognition, a flicker of hope cutting through her terror.

I hauled her to her feet, steadying her as she swayed slightly. “Yes. I promised Joy.” The name felt different on my tongue now—thick and heavy in a way I hadn’t intended. “Stay with Dimitri. I’ll get the other girl.”

The girl turned, reaching for her companion who huddled against the wall. She was younger, maybe thirteen with dark circles under her eyes and bruises visible on her thin arms.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway—heavy, deliberate—and both girls instantly froze, the younger one pressing herself harder against the wall as if trying to disappear into it. A small sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. My muscles coiled, ready to attack, but I relaxed slightly as Steve entered the room, his shirt and chin bloodied. The thick scent of fresh kills clung to him, marking him as a vampire still new to his hunger. His eyes were wild, the bloodlust not yet fully under control.

“Maximo and his men are gone,” he announced, wiping at the crimson stain on his chin with the back of his hand. “Only the dead remain.” There was a hollowness to his voice that betrayed his struggle—part of him still human enough to be disturbed by what he’d become.

I locked my gaze with him, searching for signs he might lose control around the girls. His pupils remained dark and steady, with none of the red rings that would signal an impending killing spree. Instead, I saw only focused determination in his eyes. “Did you find Marsha?” The question carried an urgency I couldn’t hide. I remembered Joy’s tear-filled eyes when she hadmade me promise to find all the girls. The promise I’d made gnawed at me now.

Steve shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No.”

I glanced behind him, noting the absence of our leader. “Where’s the boss?” My fingers flexed unconsciously, anticipating our next move. We still had twelve more girls to locate in this hellhole.

“He’s still in the courtyard,” Steve replied, shifting his weight as he fought to ignore the girls’ racing pulses. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort. “He called Crescent Manor, telling them to bring a limo to get the girls out of here.”

Relief coursed through me, though my expression remained impassive. Angelo had listened. Not just to me, but to Joy’s plea. The sooner these girls were out of here, the sooner I could return to her. The need to see her again, to ensure she was still safe, clawed at me with an intensity that was becoming harder to ignore.

“There are fourteen of them.” I nodded toward the huddled girls, low enough that only the vampires in the room could hear me. The scent of their fear hung thick in the air, making it difficult to think clearly. “According to them, they’re locked in the rooms down this hallway.”

Dimitri pushed himself off the wall with a theatrical sigh and gestured for the girls to follow him. His eyes, however, remained alert despite his casual demeanor. “Come on, ladies. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” The girls pressed back against the wall, eyes wide with terror. Getting them to follow him out of the room was like trying to coax terrified animals from a cage. They flinched at every movement he made, clearly torn between the danger they knew and the unknown he represented.

He flashed me a teasing but sincere smile over his shoulder. “Go be Batman and Robin.”

Steve took one side and I took the other, moving with vampiric speed down the dimly lit hallway. The scent of fear grew stronger with each door we approached, a potent cocktail of sweat, tears, and hopelessness that made my jaw clench. We broke down the doors with practiced efficiency—wood splintering beneath our hands, metal hinges tearing free from their moorings. Each room revealed another horror—girls huddled in corners, some shackled to beds, others curled into protective balls on bare mattresses. Their eyes, when they looked up at our entrance, held the same vacant terror I’d seen in war zones across centuries.

One by one, we gathered them, some flinching from our touch until soft words and gentle hands convinced them we weren’t their captors. The weight of their suffering pressed against my chest, fueling the cold rage that had been building since I’d found Joy. These were children—human children—being bartered and sold like cattle.

In the last room Steve broke through, he emerged carrying a redhead in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, copper hair matted with blood at the temple. She was nearly unconscious, her pulse fluttering weakly beneath the translucent skin of her neck. I wondered what Ari had done to her—what dark demonic ritual or pleasure had left her this way. Steve’s eyes had darkened, but not with hunger. The newborn vampire was experiencing something I recognized too well—the dangerous mixture of fury and protectiveness that made control so tenuous.

“Easy,” I murmured to him, noticing his grip tightening around the girl’s fragile form. “She’s safe now.”

Angelo came down the hallway, his footsteps measured and deliberate as always. The King of New Orleans moved with the confidence of a predator who never needed to rush. His eyes—dark and assessing—took in the procession of broken girlsnow filling the corridor. For a moment, something ancient and terrible flashed across his features before his mask of control returned.

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