Page 24 of Cry of Blood and Joy
“Three hundred cash.” I reached for my wallet. “No questions.” The unspoken threat in those two words was clear.
“I don’t talk to pigs,” the man sneered, the kind of contempt that came from years of dealing with cops and anyone else who threatened his grimy little empire.
A cold smile spread across my face, the kind that had made hardened criminals reconsider their life choices. “No,you won’t.” Humans always broke under torture. If Lorenzo or another one of Angelo’s men found this place, they’d make this fool talk, and he’d remember every detail about me. I couldn’t risk it.
I stared directly into his bloodshot eyes, drawing on the compulsion that ran through my veins like liquid fire. The familiar sensation started as a warm tingle at the base of my skull, then swept through my entire body in waves of electric power that made my skin feel like it was crackling with energy. My vampire nature rose to the surface, ancient and predatory, turning my gaze into something that could bend mortal minds like soft clay.
I narrowed my eyes, focusing all that supernatural force into a laser-sharp beam of mental domination. The air between us seemed to shimmer with invisible pressure, and his face shifted—fear giving way to blank submission as my will wrapped around his consciousness like iron chains.
“You’ll forget about me,” I commanded. Each word carried the beat of compulsion, sinking into his mind like the drumbeat of song, low and dark. “Forget about what I look like. You’ll only remember me as a bald, sleazy John who paid for a week and left without causing trouble.”
The man’s mouth went slack, his jaw dropping open as if his muscles had suddenly forgotten how to work. His bloodshot eyes glazed over with the glassy stare of someone whose mind had been temporarily hijacked, pupils dilating until they looked like black holes in his flushed face. The hostile intelligence that had been there moments before simply... vanished, replaced by the empty compliance of a puppet waiting for its strings to be pulled.
“I understand,” he said in a monotone voice that no longer belonged to him, the words coming out flat and emotionless like a voice on a warped record. His head bobbed once in a mechanical nod, and my commands settled into his memory likesediment, overwriting what had actually happened with the false narrative I’d planted.
“Give me a room near Rocco Palazzo.” I forced myself to sound calm despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
He reached behind him with jerky, puppet-like movements and grabbed a grimy key on a bourbon-shaped key ring. His fingers fumbled slightly, motor control still adjusting to my influence. “This one is next to his. Room eight.” He set the key on the stained counter with vacant eyes.
I pocketed the key quickly, guilt twisting in my stomach at what I’d done to him. Mind control always left me feeling dirty, but survival demanded ugly choices. I stepped away from the counter and melted back into the shadows, my vampire speed carrying me silently through the night. The man would remember giving a room to someone—just not me, and not the real reason why. I’d only requested one room, knowing that multiple reservations would draw unwanted attention from staff who might remember faces, ask questions, or worse—gossip to the wrong people.
This was about survival now, not comfort. Every decision had to be calculated, every risk analyzed against exposure. I wasn’t the aggressor this time, wasn’t the one with Angelo’s resources and network of loyal soldiers at my disposal. The roles had reversed completely—I was the prey now, and prey survived by staying invisible, by creating layers of misdirection that would keep the predators circling in the wrong places.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. After decades of being the hunter, I was learning what it felt like to be hunted.
I slipped inside the room the clerk had given me, the warped door catching slightly before groaning open with the sound of wood against wood. The metallic taste of anxiety coated my tongue as I stepped across the threshold—I wanted to check it out thoroughly before I moved Joy from Rocco’s room tothis one. The thought of her delicate presence in such squalor made my jaw clench with protective fury. Steve could stay with Rocco; at least then I’d know she was as safe as possible in this godforsaken dump.
My enhanced vision took in every depressing detail as I scanned the room with the methodical precision of someone who’d learned that overlooking even the smallest threat could be fatal. The air hung thick with the stench of stale smoke and something medicinal that might have been cheap disinfectant failing to mask deeper, more unpleasant odors.
The room featured a double bed rather than a queen, its sagging mattress covered by sheets that had probably been white in some previous decade. The green shag carpet looked like bald patches of dying grass, worn down to the backing in high-traffic areas. My boots stuck slightly to the floor with each step, making soft peeling sounds that turned my stomach.
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling how far we’d fallen pressing down on my shoulders like lead. It would have to do. Even thinking those words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but they were true. This wasn’t about comfort—it was about survival—and sometimes survival meant accepting the unacceptable.
Chapter Seventeen
Joy
The door opened with a soft creak, and Enzo slipped inside like liquid shadow. Every time he walked into a room, he took my breath away—not just because of his devastating good looks, but because of the way he carried himself with that lethal grace that screamed danger and protection in equal measure. My heart leaped as I drank in the sight of him, safe and unharmed, the tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying finally loosening its grip on my chest.
He shut the door quietly behind him, the soft click echoing in the small space. Even that simple gesture was executed with the precision of someone who’d spent years moving through hostile territory undetected. “I got us the room next door,” he announced, his dark eyes finding mine across the cramped space. “Steve, you’ll stay here with Rocco.”
The prince looked up from where he’d been staring at his flour-dusted hands, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. “That’s fine. I’m going to need help paying for the rent since I gotfired. Again.” The admission came out bitter and defeated, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment even in the dim light.
“I can pay for it,” Enzo said without hesitation. The offer was so immediate, so generous, that it made my heart tighten with emotion.
I smiled at him, feeling that familiar warmth spread through my entire body like honey in my veins. His kind words and protective instincts never failed to amaze me—he was Angelo’s most feared enforcer, yet he took care of everyone around him, fiercely protective, especially of me. Even in our darkest hour, he was still trying to shoulder everyone else’s burdens.
Rocco met his gaze, and I saw something shift in his expression—a flicker of the royal pride that still lived beneath his broken exterior. “I’ll pay you back. I promise.” His voice grew stronger with each word, determination replacing the earlier defeat. “I have to make it on my own. You and Angelo came here with nothing.”
Enzo’s lips quirked up in what could only be described as a wry smile, his eyes glinting with something that might have been amusement despite our circumstances. “I wouldn’t say nothing. We had money when we got here. It just took us a while to build up the family business.”
They were the mafia. I loved Enzo, but I didn’t want to think how the Santi family made their money.
“Enzo.” Steve locked his gaze with him.
I watched in horrified fascination as his normally bright blue eyes darkened, the irises bleeding from azure to deep crimson like spilled wine. The transformation sent an involuntary shiver down my spine—it was like watching my brother disappear and be replaced by something predatory and alien. Steve moved toward the door as he spoke, his hand already reaching for the handle. “I need to feed. The hunger’s getting worse.”
The raw need in his eyes made my stomach clench with revulsion. I understood he needed blood, but it was still hard to watch. I could smell the change in him too—something sharp and metallic that reminded me of copper pennies and violence until it took over his familiar scent. He smelled like a stranger wearing my brother’s face.
