Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
A ngelo
A silence as heavy as a burial shroud descended over the room at my assessment of Trystan’s note as a declaration of war. Rage flowed through my veins like molten steel, burning away every shred of reason.
“We need to go now.” I lunged toward the door, but Enzo’s grip found my arm, his fingers digging into muscle.
“Boss—wait.”
Something snapped inside me. I whirled around, my vision blurring red at the edges, and slammed him against the wall, my hand crushing his throat. “Don’t. Ever. Argue. With. Me. Enzo.” Each word was filled with venom.
Enzo didn’t flinch. His dark eyes bored into mine, steady despite my grip on his windpipe. In them, I saw not fear, but my own savage desperation reflected back at me. “If you go after him without a plan,” he croaked, “he’ll rip you to pieces.” His face softened with concern. “I can see the grief eating you alive, boss. But charging in blind—that’s exactly what he wants. You know that.”
I narrowed my eyes as I squeezed tighter, feeling his pulse hammering against my palm. “What do you suggest I do instead?” The words came out as a guttural snarl, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.
Enzo’s eyes watered. “Set...up…a...meeting.” Each word was a desperate wheeze.
I stared at him, rage and reason warring within me. Every cell in my body screamed for blood, for immediate vengeance. Serenity’s face flashed through my mind; her smile, now stolen from me. My grip tightened as fury surged anew. I wanted—needed—to rip someone, anyone, apart for daring to take her from me, for thinking they could challenge my crown.
The throne I’d fought to build. The family I’d fought to protect.
“ S’il vous pla?t .” Elena’s trembling hand pressed against my back, her touch warm, melting my ice-cold fury. “I don’t want to lose you too, Angelo.” Her soft voice cracked, reaching through the red haze of bloodlust and pulling me back from the pit of hell, a lifeline.
For now.
The darkness still churned beneath my skin, patient.
Waiting.
I released Enzo abruptly, and he gasped, coughing and sputtering, looking shocked. I’d never attacked him before.
Never.
This obsession with Serenity could bring me down. I knew it with the same certainty that I knew my own name. The realization hit like acid in my veins. If I didn’t wrestle this beast back into its cage, I’d not only burn New Orleans to ash, I’d tear apart the only family I had left. The family she’d helped me build.
I stumbled away from Elena, fighting for air. The rage was a living thing inside me now, clawing at my ribcage, demanding blood. Each breath felt like swallowing glass as I tried to force it back.
My gaze found Enzo over my shoulder. He stood there, fingers gingerly touching the angry red marks blooming across his throat; marks I’d put there. Guilt twisted in my gut to see them.
“Set up a meeting at Bourbon Street Burgers.” My voice was sandpaper rough. The Santi family’s burger joint—our territory, our rules.
Enzo shook his head, still massaging his throat. “Trystan won’t go for that, boss. It needs to be somewhere neutral, where you’ll be on equal footing.” His eyes held mine steadily. Still looking out for my best interests, even after I’d nearly killed him.
I gritted my teeth tight. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted the advantage, wanted to corner that bastard like the rabid dog he was on Santi territory. But Enzo’s logic cut through my bloodlust like a knife through fog. I dragged trembling fingers through my hair, pulling some strands loose. “Fine. Call Keir.”
Keir Rankin, the Unseelie king, was the only one of us with ice in his veins instead of fire. While Trystan and I were creatures of impulse and violence, always one heartbeat away from carnage, Keir remained a glacier of calm in even the bloodiest storms.
I bolted for the door, my control fraying with each passing second. The people I loved were too close to danger, and the monster inside me was too hungry for violence to tell friend from foe.
“I won’t be able to set it up until tomorrow or tomorrow night,” Enzo murmured quietly, cautiously, like he was talking to a wild animal. Maybe he was.
“Just set it up.” Using my vampire speed, I shot down the hallway, the world blurring around me. My hand found a bottle of wine at the bar—not nearly strong enough to dull the pain and quiet the screaming in my head, but it would have to do. Anything to soften the razor edges of grief that threatened to slice me to ribbons from the inside out.