Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Enzo
Pregnant. My hands clenched into fists, knuckles cracking audibly. Heat surged through my veins—not the red-hot burn of human anger, but something darker, colder. My fangs lengthened involuntarily, pressing against my lower lip until I tasted copper.
Beside me, Dimitri sucked in a sharp breath. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. His jaw worked silently, and I could see him putting it together just as I was. This changed everything.
My gaze locked onto Stefan like a predator marking prey.
“How could you let this happen?”
Stefan arched his eyebrow slowly, maddeningly calm. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, completely unbothered by my fury. “Let?” A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think so, Enzo.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch like a hangman’s noose. “They must have snuck a romantic interlude without my knowledge...which isn’t easy to do in a place like this.” His shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug. “But what’s done is done. I can’t undo her pregnancy.”
Angelo clasped his fingers around my tensed forearm like a steel trap, the pressure both steading and warning. Even seated, his grip held the authority of a king reining in his enforcer. “All is not lost, Enzo.”
He wasn’t seriously contemplating torturing a pregnant woman.
My chest tightened at the thought of putting a woman in a delicate condition in his private room.
I had done many unpleasant things to men and women—broken bones, extracted confessions through pain, bled them dry—but I drew the line at a pregnant woman.
Even a vampire enforcer has a moral code.
Angelo loosened his grip, his fingers sliding off my arm. The leather chair creaked as he shifted forward slightly. “Tell me, is Killian excited about this pregnancy?”
Stefan and Anton glanced at each other like a silent alarm. Revulsion flashed in their eyes—the same sick twist that had coiled in my gut like a serpent. The air in the office seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken horror.
Anton broke the suffocating silence. “You’re not seriously considering torturing Kara, are you?”
Angelo lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug that set every nerve on fire. “Not physical torture, no. But there are other forms of torture that are just as effective in getting people to do what I want. For example—the love of a child.”
“What do you mean?” It’s not like we could wait nine months for Kara to have this baby. Everyone would be dead by then. “We need Killian’s blood today, not six or seven months from now.”
“Simple. We take Kara away from here, and Killian will never see his unborn child, never know what sex it is.”
I went perfectly still. The thought was chilling but effective. I hadn’t even considered it, but I wasn’t exactly thinking like a tactical enforcer. I was thinking with my fangs instead of my brain.
Dimitri’s lips curved into a slow smile. "And here I thought we were just going to break some kneecaps. This is so much more... creative."
Anton rubbed his chin. “You wouldn’t hurt her?”
“No.” Angelo leaned back in his chair. “Not while she was pregnant.”
The qualifier made my jaw tighten. Angelo was drawing a line, but it was further than I'd expected. Threatening a pregnant woman was one thing—actually harming her after she gave birth was another. Was I really willing to cross that line? For Joy...God help me, maybe I was.
Stefan pressed the button on the intercom. “Guards, bring Killian Cormac to my office.”
Adrenaline sharpened my focus to a lethal point.
Facing Killian Cormac—this was where I'd succeed or fail completely. Not because the bastard scared me, but he had always made me want to beat the shit out of him. He was arrogant and selfish, always thinking all supernaturals—even vampires—and humans were beneath him. Kara having his baby might not mean a thing to him. If he was anything like his father, he wouldn’t give a shit about his kid.
From what I heard, his father wouldn’t have won any Father of the Year awards.
A few minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway before two guards escorted Killian Cormac into the office.
He strolled in like he owned the place, his long blond hair flowing freely over his shoulders, catching the light from the overhead fixtures.
Even in prison garb, he carried himself with that insufferable princely bearing—chin up, shoulders back, like he was gracing us with his presence.
That lopsided grin spread across his face as his eyes swept the room, taking in each of us with obvious amusement.
There it was—that smug expression that made me want to rip his throat out. His hands weren't bound—why would they be? This place was warded tighter than a fucking vault. No supernatural was getting out of here without Stefan's permission.
He looked at Angelo, then me, then Dimitri, like we were entertainment put on for his benefit. The bastard was actually enjoying this.
“Vampire royalty,” Killian said. “I’m honored.”
Was he really poking the tiger? Damn, his arrogance knew no limits. My experience was the I’m-better-than-you attitude meant they wouldn’t do anything unless it bettered them. Our carefully laid out plans were about to crumble like a building made out of sand.
Dimitri clapped. “That level of stupid takes real commitment.”
“Prince Killian,” Angelo waved his hand. “Enjoying your new accommodations?”
Killian narrowed his eyes. “It has its…advantages. I’m sure you’ve heard I’m going to have son.”
Stefan flashed him a murderous look but didn’t engage.
I hid a smile. The fool was digging his own grave without even knowing it.
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Angelo said smoothly. “Congratulations.”
Confusion flashed in Killian’s eyes as if he wasn’t expecting that. “I know why I was brought here. The headmaster told me. And no, you can’t have it. I want the portal opened. My subjects will defeat you, and I will become king not only here, but in the Elder Dimension.”
Rage detonated in my chest. This arrogant bastard thought he could bargain while Joy was trapped, suffering, possibly dying. My fangs throbbed with the need to rip out his throat. Only Angelo's presence kept me from lunging across the office.
Angelo broke out in a tight smile. “Then you don’t get your son.”
“What?” Killian glanced over at Stefan who shrugged and held up his hands.
His crestfallen look brought a smile to my face. “We can’t force you, that’s true. But if we don’t get what we want, then you don’t get what you want.”
“Kara’s a prisoner,” Killian said. “You can’t take her.”
“Oh, she would be in prison,” Angelo said, his voice silk-smooth and deadly calm.
He leaned back in his leather chair and slid one finger along the armrest as if drawing a map.
“But some place where you would never find her. I have many hiding places, places that could accommodate a pregnant woman and her child.”
Beads of sweat erupted across Killian’s forehead, glistening under the office lights.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the first crack in his arrogant facade.
His hands trembled slightly at his sides as he fought to maintain control.
“I don’t believe you.” He gestured frantically toward Anton with a shaking hand. “He would never allow that.”
Anton shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his jaw working silently.
His fingers drummed once against the armrest before he stilled them.
“I said I would never allow them to torture a pregnant woman physically,” he said carefully, each word measured.
“I never said I wouldn’t allow them to…relocate one.
” His eyes met mine with what looked like reluctant resignation. “Enzo would make sure she was safe.”
The taste of victory was sweet on my tongue.
I pushed off from the wall where I’d been standing, my footsteps deliberate and predatory on the polished floor.
“Oh, I would do more than that.” My fangs elongated fully, catching the lights as I smiled without warmth.
“I would never allow her to contact you.”
Behind me, I heard Dimitri's low chuckle. "Now this is getting interesting," he murmured.
Killian’s breathing became shallow, rapid. The color drained from his face as I closed the distance between us, each step calculated to build his terror. His fear was sharp, acrid, and so delicious.
“I would never allow you to know anything about your son.” I patted his cheek, hitting him softly with each beat of my words. “You would rot here while we raised your child never knowing you existed.”
Killian gritted his teeth, snarling out the word. “No. You can’t do this to me. You can’t take my son from me. He would be the future king of my people.”
I leaned closer. “Then give us what we want, and the baby’s all yours.
You can raise it any way you like.” I whispered as he shuddered.
“Or maybe it grows to be one of us.” I pulled back just enough to meet his horrified gaze.
I ran my tongue slowly over my fangs, savoring his terror.
“A vampire. Your heir, forever craving blood instead of ruling the Unseelie.”
Something snapped behind his eyes—raw, primal panic mixed with rage. “Never!” he roared, lunging at me with desperate fury, his fingers clawing wildly at my face.
But I moved with inhuman speed, sidestepping effortlessly. He stumbled past me, his momentum carrying him straight into Stefan’s bookcase. The wood cracked like thunder, and books cascaded to the floor in a violent avalanche of leather and paper.
Dimitri’s delighted laughter filled the room. “Well, well. Someone’s feeling as brave as a bull today. How adorable.”
Killian lay sprawled among the scattered books, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face.
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet and whirled around to face us, his eyes wild with desperation and hatred.
Desperation led men to do rash things, and I had no doubt that Killian would break. We just needed to keep up the pressure.
Dimitri and Angelo flanked me like predators closing in on wounded prey. Anton sat frozen in his chair. Stefan remained perfectly still, watching the chaos unfold in his office with cold detachment.
I knelt down and looked at Killian eye to eye, not using compulsion. “The choice is yours, Killian. Keep your damn blood or lose your son. Either way, we’re not leaving here empty-handed.”