Chapter 14
I woke before sunset, the edges of my consciousness already sharpening with fury.
The taste of last night still clung to my tongue.
The taste of Layla’s blood, the smoke outside where we were attacked, and the faint scent of Layla’s pain.
It haunted me. I looked down at her sleeping form, curled into the sheets, her brow furrowed even in rest. The doctor’s sedative had worked, keeping her in a deep sleep to help her heal.
But nothing could calm the rage storming through my chest.
I kissed her temple gently, careful not to wake her.
“You’re safe my angel,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon.
” Sliding out of bed I made my way into the bathroom going about my usual daily routine as I dressed in silence, all black.
My weapons holstered with practiced ease.
My fury coiled beneath my skin like a serpent ready to strike.
Before leaving, I send the twins a text to meet me outside the bedroom. When they arrived, I spoke to the twins outside the door. Rael stood with arms crossed while Ashen’s gaze scanned the corridor.
"I’m going to be out, she doesn’t leave this room unless it’s on fire. No one goes in unless it’s one of you or the chef. Understand?"
"Understood, my lord," Rael replied with the same calm certainty he always carried.
Downstairs, I personally spoke to the chef, ensuring Layla would eat something. "Make it hearty, but soft. Don’t give her anything that’s too heavy as after yesterday her stomach might not be up to it. Take it up to her, and make sure she eats."
Then I organized for crates of design books, paint samples, and texture charts be delivered to our room.
She needed something to focus on, something beautiful to sink her hands into.
She’d start to look at remodelling Havoc.
It would give her peace, keep her busy while I was away and give her purpose.
By the time I was ready to leave, Draugr arrived.
Blood stained his shirt collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. His boots were crusted with gore and ash, thick and dark, still wet in places. He didn’t wipe it off, didn’t try to hide the battlefield he'd just come from, because men like Draugr didn’t explain war, they simply carried it with them.
He stepped through the doors like death personified, a shadow wrapped in flesh and muscle. His coat swung behind him like a shroud. There was a gash on his jaw, already healing, but the smear of demon ichor along his cheekbone was still smoking faintly, sizzling against his immortal skin.
His pale eyes met mine with quiet rage. “It’s done,” he confirmed. His voice was hoarse, low, scraped raw from screaming or from the cold air of wherever he'd been hunting.
"How many?" I asked, stepping forward.
"Fifteen confirmed nests," he said without blinking. "Thirty-eight dead. A few scattered vermin fled into the tunnels, but they won’t last the night. I left the bodies burning."
A slow breath escaped me. "And the one who escaped that was at the attack?"
"There was nothing left but bone." He rolled his shoulders as if the weight of vengeance was finally easing off his frame. “We made them scream, Roman. Every last one. ”
I nodded once, jaw tight, a flicker of something like grim satisfaction twisting inside me. “Good.”
Draugr tilted his head. “You sure you want to do this tonight and leave her after what happened yesterday?”
“I don’t,” I reply flatly. “But business doesn’t stop, and we have scores to settle and meetings to arrange.”
He glanced at the staircase. “Is she okay, is she stable?”
“She’s strong,” I confirm. “But she’s hurting. And if any of them come near her again…” My fists clenched at my sides. “There won’t be bodies to burn.”
A thin smile ghosted across his lips. “That’s what I like to hear.” Draugr’s jaw tightened as he raised his concern. " The demons are getting bolder. They are getting hungrier, the attacks are more frequent and they are getting brasher."
I nodded slowly. "I want you to keep pressure on them. I want the city to reek of their fear."
"Already does," he muttered.
We stepped out into the courtyard, moonlight washing the black stone in a cold silver gleam. Three armoured SUVs idled in formation. Our sigil, an iron serpent wound around a sword glinted faintly on the hood of each.
Gideon stood beside the lead vehicle, his stance alert, rifle slung across his back. Behind him, two more changelings and a vampire soldier checked weapons, tactical knives, silenced pistols, flashbangs, and UV grenades designed to disorient demonic eyes.
Draugr and I wore our usual combat gear, the reinforced leather jackets, ballistic lining underneath, and combat boots that whispered death with each step.
I holstered a custom Desert Eagle at my hip and strapped a curved silver-edged blade to my thigh.
Draugr, of course, carried no guns, he didn’t need them.
His twin obsidian daggers were tucked under his jacket, along with the ceremonial black blade passed down through our bloodline.
We moved in silence, no words needed. My men fell in behind us as we climbed into the lead SUV. Draugr slid in beside me, and Gideon took the passenger seat. I took one final glance at the mansion, the lights still glowing in the upstairs windows, where Layla slept, then I shut the door .
We rode in silence toward the southern docks. My brothers were already waiting at the safehouse. Lucien stood with a map spread across a metal table, red pins marking enemy locations. Viking lounged against the far wall, a cigar between his teeth, eyes narrowed in thought.
"About damn time," Viking said as we entered. "You look like shit."
"I feel worse," I said flatly.
"Layla?" Lucien asked, not looking up.
"Recovering, but I left strict orders at the mansion, and the twins are with her."
Viking nodded solemnly. "You shouldn’t have had to leave her at all."
"We don’t get luxury right now," I snap. "We get vengeance."
Lucien placed a folder in front of me. Inside I find documents and surveillance images of the Irish. "Word is, they’re trying to steal the weapons deal we brokered with the Serbs. We’ve confirmed at least two meetings."
I ground my teeth. "That deal funds our armoury for the next three years. If the Irish take it… "
"They won’t," Lucien cut in. "We’ll make sure of it. But we have to move quick."
The Irish bastards had been circling for months, waiting for a weakness.
There had always been bad blood between us.
A while ago, their Don, Connor Flannery, had been slighted by Volken when a weapons trade had gone south.
It wasn’t our fault, but Flannery’s men had been late, drunk, and under-armed.
But pride was everything to the Irish, and they’d never forgiven us for pulling out of the deal.
Since then, the feud simmered in the background of every meeting, every territorial overlap, every shipment that had even a whisper of overlap.
Flannery was smart, he was ruthless, and cunning in a way that reminded me of a viper.
Always smiling, always waiting to strike.
He had his fingers in every dirty pot from Dublin to Detroit, and he wasn’t above using mercenaries to get what he wanted.
What made it worse was that Flannery had recently allied himself with an Eastern syndicate known for trafficking vampire blood, specifically the black-market variant that could mimic changeling enhancements, but that isn’t lasting.
That wasn’t just a slap in the face but that was war bait.
I believed that Flannery didn’t know about there being vampires, but the fact that he had aligned himself with this Eastern syndicate which were clearly vampire hunters was concerning.
"He’s making his move," I said, pacing. "If he gets the distributor locked in, we’re cut off from a third of our international arms."
Viking blew out a long plume of smoke. "We should’ve wiped that smug bastard off the map five years ago."
Lucien nodded slowly. "We couldn’t afford to then, but we sure as fuck can now."
"Then we hit him where it hurts," I order, my resolve had been set, my voice was ice. "We hit his storage ports, his bloodline network. I want his allies turned to ash before he even blinks."
Viking’s grin was dark. "Now you’re talking."
The plan was beginning to form, and I was going to make damn sure Flannery regretted ever thinking he could lay hands on what was mine.
In that moment, surrounded by my brothers, my own blood, I felt the old strength return. We’d built this empire with fangs and steel. No demon, no rival syndicate, no fucking traitor was going to rip it away.
"Tomorrow," I said. "We make the Irish bleed." They nodded as one, there was no arguments, no fear, there was only resolve.
Lucien turned toward the other side of the map, where a series of darker pins marked demon sightings and attack patterns.
"The demons aren’t working alone anymore," he said, voice low. "They’re coordinating, which means there’s a purpose, there is something bigger than random attacks going on."
Draugr stepped forward. "The ones I took out were organized. They weren’t feeding, they were tracking, they were too organized because they were moving like soldiers, not scavengers."
Viking frowned, tossing his cigar into the ashtray. "So, what the fuck are they after?"
"I’m thinking Bloodlines," Volken said. "Ours. They’re targeting our people, our supply routes, and now Layla. As one of our mates, she will be able to power them for a while if they kept her alive. That is personal. "
I clenched my fists. "They’re not just feeding anymore, they’re hunting."
Draugr nodded grimly. "And if they’re hunting us, we need to make sure our homes, our clubs, and every fucking route is fortified. I’ve already started rotating our changeling patrols. No place goes unwatched."
"And the safehouses?" I asked.
"Reinforced with silver-laced barriers and blood wards," Draugr confirmed. "But we need to find their nests, and take the fight to them."
Lucien stepped forward, sliding a satellite image onto the table. "Here," he pointed. "The old rail depot outside the city, every attack pattern points back here."
"Then that’s where we hit," I growled. "I want the nest purged. Burn it to the ground, I want no survivors."
"And what about Malakai?" Viking asked quietly. "We know he’s behind it. If we kill his army, he’ll show himself eventually."
"Then I’ll be waiting," I said coldly. "He wants my bloodline. I will make sure he chokes on it, motherfucker "
The plans were drawn and the routes mapped.
Lucien assigned the units to the various assignments; our next steps were etched into stone and blood.
As the meeting dispersed, I lingered, staring out at the black waves lapping against the docks.
My hands clenched at my sides. I could still feel the phantom warmth of Layla’s body against mine.
The taste of her blood, her tears, her surprising strength.
This war wasn’t just mine anymore. It was ours, and I would die before I let anything touch her again.