Page 66 of Oath of Blood and Joy

Something in his eyes shifted, a flicker of interest that hadn’t been there before. “Yeah. Said to tell you to call her.” He gave ahalf-smile that reminded me of the old Steve. “Sounds like you two got tight in that hell hole.”

“Yes. I did everything I could to protect her and the other girls.” The memories of our captivity flashed through my mind—the darkness, the fear, the desperate whispers of comfort we’d shared in that horrible place.

He rubbed the back of my neck, a familiar gesture from childhood that somehow bridged the gap between what he had been and what he was now. “You always do. And now I hear you have a shadow trick?”

I focused on him, not ready to face Angelo yet. I could feel the vampire king’s presence like a coiled snake in the room, but for now, I wanted to stay in this bubble with my brother.

But I wasn’t alone in my wariness.

Enzo lounged against the bar, his posture lazy, but the tension in him crackling tight beneath the surface. His gaze swept the room—not restless, but calculating—as if already deciding whose throat he’d tear out first if things turned.

The focus of too many powerful beings watching me made my skin prickle, nerves raw with awareness. “I’m not sure what it is, but yes. I can draw on the shadows.”

Steve’s expression shifted slightly, and I caught him glancing over my shoulder. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something more cautious. Whatever moment we’d been sharing was about to end.

I felt Angelo’s presence intensify behind me, his patience wearing thin. The air itself seemed to thicken with his barely restrained authority.

“Joy.” Angelo’s voice cut through my brother’s and my reunion like a blade, commanding attention even as I tried to avoid it. I turned reluctantly, my hand instinctively reaching for Steve’s arm as if he could anchor me to this moment of normalcy.

Angelo stood with the casual confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed, his green eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity. “I have a call into Keir Rankin, king of the Unseelie family.” Another apex predator to contend with. He raised a brow. “You know you’re half Unseelie, right?”

My mind recoiled from his words. “No.” The denial burst from me with surprising force. “Louis DuPont is my father.” I shook my head violently, rejecting the very idea. “Marsha must have put a spell on me.” My voice rose in pitch, edged with desperation.

Enzo was supposed to bite me. The one to tell me what I was. I should’ve asked him.

Instead, I was standing here one breath away from a full-blown panic attack—in front of the vampire mafia king, no less.

I rubbed my arms frantically, trying to warm away the chill that crept through me at the mention of her name. Phantom pains flared where her fists had connected with my body, again and again—bruises that Serenity had healed but my mind couldn’t forget.

My breathing became shallow as memories flooded back: the suffocating darkness of the metal box, the walls closing in, the air growing thinner with each panicked breath, Marsha’s voice taunting me that I had to use the shadows to get me out of the box. No one would release me.

Not until Enzo came.

Enzo was immediately at my side, his presence easing my fear like a balm. His arm slipped around my waist, strong and steady, anchoring me to the present. From across the room, I caught Serenity’s concerned gaze, her eyes filled with the understanding that only a true friend could offer. She knew me before all this—before vampires and Dark Demons and discoveries about my heritage. Her silent support reminded me that no matter what I learned about myself, I was still Joy to her.

Angelo ignored my outburst as if he knew it was obvious that Louis DuPont wasn’t my father. His green eyes remained impassive, unmoved by my denial. “Keir may have some answers for you. One of his men has the same ability and he may be able to teach you how to control it so you’re not a danger to anyone.”

The words were polite. The meaning wasn’t.

If I couldn’t control this, I wouldn’t be given the chance to keep trying. Not with men like Angelo.

The weight of that realization settled over me, cold and suffocating.

This was a king who didn’t get his hands dirty. He didn’t need to. One word from him, and someone else would do the ending for him.

And no one would question it.

I stepped closer to Enzo. Without a word, he clasped my hand, his fingers curling around mine with a quiet promise: I’ve got you.

I remembered what he’d told me last night—that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me again. And I believed him.

The steady warmth of his grip grounded me, a silent reminder that I wasn’t facing this alone.

My brother was at my other side, his presence a familiar comfort even in his new vampire form. My two protectors forming a barrier between me and the terrifying possibilities of what I might be.

I needed to change the subject. The tension was suffocating, but more than that, there was a question burning in my chest, one that had been eating at me since I realized Steve was here—but someone else wasn’t.

“Where’s my dad?”

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