Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Enzo
Rage poured through me like molten lava, my emotions stripped bare and bleeding.
I wanted nothing more than to launch myself at Gunnar, to sink my fangs into his throat and rip that handsome face apart piece by piece.
I wanted to make him pay for Nyx's death, for Joy's pain, for every second of this nightmare.
But that's exactly what would get me killed.
My hands trembled with the effort of holding back, muscles strung tight as piano wire. The need for vengeance pulsed through me with every heartbeat, hot and insistent. Demon blood coated my tongue, a bitter reminder of what I was capable of when pushed too far.
No. I forced myself to breathe, to think like an enforcer instead of a grieving friend. Emotions were a luxury I couldn't afford right now. I had to be calm, callous.
Gunnar was counting on my rage, waiting for me to charge in blind with fury. That's what he wanted—for me to make a mistake he could exploit.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Something landed with a bone-jarring thud that shook the ground beneath my feet. I whipped around. Shit, Hades was behind me, crouched low, ready to pounce.
He snarled—a guttural, primal sound, scraping against my nerves like claws on stone. Saliva dripped from his bared fangs as he growled, the sound vibrating through his chest in a constant, menacing rumble. His yellow eyes burned with predatory hunger, never leaving my face.
This was a coordinated attack. Gunnar had me pinned from above while Hades cut off my escape route from behind. They'd planned this, working together to isolate me from any help.
My allies were too far away. The battlefield had become a chaotic maze of violence and death, spreading us thin across the cathedral grounds.
Dimitri moved like liquid death through a cluster of Dark Demons near the main entrance, his fangs gleaming as he tore through them with ruthless efficiency. But for every demon he destroyed, two more seemed to take its place, their shrieks echoing off the ancient stone walls.
Angelo's situation was even more desperate.
A pack of snarling Dark Demons had driven him back against the massive oak trees where Spanish moss hung like ghostly curtains.
He fought with brutal determination, his supernatural strength allowing him to crush skulls and snap necks, but they descended like ravens on carrion.
Behind him, Serenity was trapped between the thick tree trunks, her face pale with terror as she pressed herself against the rough bark.
Angelo couldn't advance without leaving her exposed, and he couldn't retreat with the trees at his back.
Across the courtyard, Lorcan and Keir were completely surrounded by a writhing mass of demons that seemed to pour from the shadows themselves.
Lorcan's sword became a blur of steel, cutting down anything that got too close, but his primary focus was protecting Keir rather than breaking through their ranks.
The Unseelie king stood behind him, weaponless but alert, calling out warnings as demons tried to flank them.
None of them could reach me. I was on my own, caught between two predators who wanted nothing more than to tear me apart.
Gunnar approached from the front while Hades stalked me from behind. I knew he was there, but I couldn’t hear him. He was lethal, extremely protective of Gunnar. No one would hurt him.
Ever.
Except for me.
I straightened my shoulders and let a cold smile play across my lips, ignoring the pain shooting through my back from Hades’ claws. "You're scared of me, Gunnar." I tilted my head with deliberate casualness, forcing myself to remain calm in a battlefield littered with corpses.
A vein pulsed in his temple. "Fuck you." The words came out in a snarl, spittle flying from his lips. His hands curled into fists at his sides, wings twitching with barely controlled rage.
Definitely hit a nerve. The scent of his fury was like burning metal.
I let my smile widen into something predatory, showing just a hint of fang.
Blood still stained my lips from the demons I'd drained, and I knew it made the expression even more menacing.
"Then why do you have Hades coming up behind me?
" I gestured lazily toward the sound of snarling at my back, never taking my eyes off Gunnar's face. "You're a fucking coward."
Gunnar's face contorted with rage, his composure cracking like ice under pressure. His wings spread wider, casting dark shadows across the blood-soaked ground. The veins in his neck bulged as his breathing became ragged and uncontrolled.
Perfect. An angry opponent was a sloppy opponent. And sloppy meant dead.
"Hades, stand down. Now." Gunnar's voice cracked like a whip through the night air, but I could hear the strain beneath his commanding tone—the first hint his control was slipping.
I glanced over my shoulder, feeling the heat radiating from the compact predator behind me.
The little Cantan Dragon was only a few feet away, but he kept edging closer with each passing second, his claws clicking against the stone as he moved.
His yellow eyes never left me, pupils dilated with hunting instinct.
The acrid smell of sulfur and something else—something wild and untamed—filled my nostrils.
I chuckled, the sound low and deliberately mocking. "Doesn't look like he listens to you." Dark pleasure surged through me as I watched Gunnar's composure crack further.
Gunnar's wings flared wider, casting deeper shadows across the blood-soaked courtyard. "Hades, stop." The command came out sharper this time, edged with desperation and rising panic. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool night air.
The Cantan Dragon paused mid-step and slowly turned his massive head toward Gunnar.
He tilted it to one side with almost human curiosity, as if weighing whether his master's orders were worth following.
A low rumble emanated from his throat—not quite a growl, but not submission either.
His long tail lashed once, the dark tuft at its tip betraying his agitation.
The silence stretched between them, thick with tension and the promise of violence. I could feel Gunnar's authority crumbling like sand, and the taste of victory was sweet on my lips.
I lunged forward with everything I had. Gunnar met me full force—two predators colliding like freight trains.
The impact sent shockwaves through my bones, but I pressed my advantage.
My fangs bared, I sank them deep into his shoulder, tasting his blood as it flooded my mouth.
Hot, metallic, with an underlying current of something darker.
For a split second, I thought I had him. Victory surged through me as my fangs tore his flesh.
Then Gunnar's hands clamped down on my arms, and everything changed.
My power began to ebb away like water through a broken dam. The strength I'd always counted on—the supernatural speed, the enhanced reflexes—all of it started draining from my body in steady, terrifying waves. My fangs loosened their grip on his shoulder as weakness flooded my limbs.
What the fuck was happening to me?
Sharp nails dug into my flesh, and I realized with growing horror that it wasn't just his touch—those razor-sharp talons were piercing my skin, creating direct contact points where he could siphon my very essence. Each puncture wound felt like a straw he was using to drink my life force.
Gunnar’s smile was thick with satisfaction. “Not so tough now, are you, enforcer?"
I tried to pull away, but my muscles wouldn't respond properly. The world started to blur at the edges as my vampire strength continued to hemorrhage out of me. I was being drained—not of blood, but of something far more fundamental. Something that made me what I was.
And there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it.
Black dots swam around my eyes like a swarm of angry wasps, multiplying with each heartbeat until they began to merge into larger patches of darkness.
My breath slowed to shallow, ragged gasps that barely filled my lungs.
Each inhale was like trying to breathe through wet concrete, the air thick and useless in my chest.
The cacophony of battle—the clash of steel, the screams of demons, the shouts of my allies—all began to fade as if someone was slowly turning down the volume on the world.
The sounds grew muffled and distant, like hearing voices underwater.
Even my own heartbeat, which had been thundering in my ears moments before, became a sluggish, irregular thump that seemed to echo from somewhere far away.
My limbs were impossibly heavy, as if they were made of lead instead of flesh and bone. The connection between my brain and my body was severing, strand by strand, leaving me trapped inside a shell I could no longer control.
My head tilted backward against my will, the muscles in my neck no longer strong enough to hold it upright.
Through the growing haze, I found myself staring up at the star-scattered sky above the cathedral.
The ancient constellations that had watched over countless battles throughout history now bore witness to my defeat.
The stars themselves began to dim and blur, their cold light fading like dying embers.
One by one, they winked out of existence until only darkness remained.
My eyelids grew unbearably heavy, weighted down by an exhaustion that went deeper than physical fatigue—it was the weariness of a soul being drained away.
As my eyes fluttered shut for what might be the last time, one thought cut through the fog of approaching unconsciousness: I had failed Joy.