Page 32 of Cry of Blood and Joy
He placed his hand over his heart in a gesture of mock sincerity that was both theatrical and somehow genuine. “I’m not exactly his best buddy, sweetheart, but I know someone who might have a chance—and the operative word here is might—Gianna. But no promises.” His expression softened slightly, just enough to give me a glimpse of the man beneath the monster.
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was probably the only silver lining in this storm cloud of despair. A chance was better than no chance at all, even if it was slimmer than a razor’s edge.
I ran my fingers through my hair again, a nervous gesture that accomplished nothing except to remind me how utterly destroyed I looked and felt. “Well, then,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice when everything inside me was screaming in terror. “Let’s go see Angelo.”
“He has a special room all set up for you at the casino.”
“You mean like the one you were in?”
“That was his special room at Crescent Manor. The one at the casino is straight out of medieval times.”
The words were like signing my own death warrant, but if there was even the smallest possibility my sacrifice could save Steve and Enzo, then it was a price I was willing to pay.
“This way,” Dimitri said as he motioned toward a sleek black Corvette that gleamed like polished obsidian in the dim parking lot lighting. The car looked completely out of place among therusted economy vehicles and beat-up sedans that surrounded it, like a panther lounging among alley cats. Even in my weakened state, I had to admire the audacity of it.
The only bright side to this entire nightmare was he wasn’t going to toss me over his shoulder like Enzo had done. If he tried that in my current condition, I would definitely be redecorating his pristine black leather jacket, and vomit wasn’t a good look on anyone.
He opened the passenger door with exaggerated courtesy, like we were heading to dinner instead of my execution. I practically fell into the passenger seat, my legs giving out as I tried to lower myself gracefully. Dimitri had to steady my elbow to keep me from collapsing completely.
The leather seats probably cost more than most people made in a month. The interior smelled of expensive cologne and leather conditioner, a stark contrast to the musty decay of the hotel room I’d just left behind. My head lolled against the headrest, the simple act of holding it up too exhausting.
As the engine purred to life with predatory elegance, memories crashed over me like a tidal wave of terror. Ever since the first time I’d seen Angelo Santi at Fandor Citadel, where the demon Balthazar was threatening to execute him, he had terrified me on a level beyond rational thought. There was something in his cold, calculating eyes—an absolute absence of mercy, compassion, or humanity. Even beaten and bloodied, I knew instinctively he was the most dangerous creature in the room.
My first instincts about him had been devastatingly right. I was about to enter his infamous torture chamber in the casino—the room people entered but never emerged from alive. The stories whispered about that place were the stuff of nightmares, tales of agony that lasted for days, of men who had begged for death long before Angelo granted it.
My hands trembled in my lap as the Corvette glided through the empty New Orleans streets, each passing block bringing me closer to my doom. The city lights blurred past the window like tears, beautiful and distant, as if I were already becoming a ghost watching the world of the living slip away.
I pressed my face against the cool glass and closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of being alive, of having a heartbeat, of existing in a world where Enzo’s laughter could still echo in empty rooms.
I just hoped that somehow, somewhere, Enzo would understand why I’d made this choice. I hoped he would know, beyond any shadow of doubt, how much I loved him—loved him enough to walk into hell itself if it meant keeping him and Steve safe. I hoped he wouldn’t blame himself for what was about to happen, wouldn’t carry the guilt of my death like another chain around his heart.
But most of all, I hoped he would find a way to forgive himself, and maybe someday find happiness again, even if it had to be without me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Enzo
I cursed under my breath again, the words coming out in a steady stream of Italian profanity that would have made my maker proud. My jaw ached from clenching it so hard, and my fangs threatened to descend as frustration ate at me like acid in my veins.
From my position crouched behind an ornate stone fountain, I observed Keir’s sprawling estate with the cold precision of a predator denied his prey. The mansion loomed before me like a fortress of pale limestone and arched windows, every line of its architecture screaming old money and older power. Soft golden light spilled from the windows, casting dancing shadows across manicured gardens that probably cost more to maintain than all the New Orleans Saints’ salaries combined.
The same guards stood in front of the gate, and I swear that sometimes they looked in my direction. I was losing my touch, getting sloppy. All because I couldn’t get over what I had done to Joy. She was going to be the death of me if I didn’t get my head back in this chess game.
I had followed Lorcan Blackthorn back to this place after spotting him leaving the marina two hours ago, tracking him through the winding streets of the Garden District like a bloodhound on a scent trail. I’d picked up his trail at Keir’s yacht down at the marina, where the stench of Unseelie magic had clung to the salt air like perfume mixed with sulfur. But the cunning bastard had given me the slip somewhere between Magazine Street and here, vanishing into thin air as if he’d known I was following him all along.
The possibility that I’d been made sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through my system, making my hands shake with suppressed fury. I pressed my palms against the rough stone of the fountain, feeling the cool marble bite into my skin as I fought to maintain control. The sound of gently flowing water should have been soothing, but instead it felt like mockery—peaceful tranquility when my world was burning down around me.
Lorcan had been inside for hours now, probably sipping expensive wine and laughing about how easily he’d played me. The mental image of his smug face made my vision blur red around the edges, and I had to force myself to take slow, measured breaths to keep from doing something catastrophically stupid.
He was in there somewhere, probably knowing I was hiding in the shadows like some common street thug, waiting for him to stick his arrogant nose out so I could rearrange his face. The waiting was torture—every minute that ticked by was another minute Joy remained in danger, another minute Angelo’s fury had to build and fester.
The bastard was probably enjoying this, knowing he held all the cards while I crouched in the dark like a gargoyle, consumed by impotent rage and the crushing weight of everything I’d already lost. The taste of Joy’s blood still lingered on mytongue, a constant reminder of how I’d betrayed her trust in my desperate attempt to keep her safe.
And now, as I sat here in this orchestrated charade with Keir’s pet enforcer, I couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that I was already too late—that while I’d been chasing shadows, the real game had been played somewhere else entirely.
I just hoped Rocco had made it back to that crappy hotel with the broken sign and was safely guarding Joy like he’d promised. The thought of her lying weak and defenseless in that dingy room made my chest tighten with protective fury that threatened to consume what little rational thinking I had left. Maybe if I couldn’t get to Lorcan, I could put the squeeze on one of the guards patrolling the perimeter. I needed information, and waiting in the shadows playing hide and seek wasn’t working—it was just eating away at precious time while everything I cared about slipped further from my grasp.
The sudden mechanical hum of the garage door opening cut through the night air like a blade, making every muscle in my body go rigid with alertness. My enhanced hearing picked up the purr of a perfectly tuned engine before I saw it—Keir’s sleek gray limousine rolling out of the driveway with the smooth precision of a predator gliding through water.
