Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Serenity
The standoff between Angelo and me was intense.
The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on.
It was like all the people in the room had vanished—the witches, the vampires, even Joy beside me.
There was only Angelo and me, our eyes locked in a battle of wills I had no intention of losing.
I braced my hands on the couch cushions, ready to push myself up, ready to flash out my wings right here in the living room if I had to. My feathers would knock over half the Christmas decorations, but I didn't care. I wasn't backing down.
Angelo's jaw flexed, his dark eyes churning with emotions I could read all too well—fear, fury, desperation. Then finally, finally, something in his expression shifted. Not surrender, but... acceptance.
He'd lost this fight, and he knew it.
I had to know that Balthazar was in that cage. It was the only way I could sleep, the only way I could breathe without constantly looking over my shoulder. If he got hold of my baby...
The thought stopped my heart, a cold wave of terror washing over me so completely that for a moment I couldn't move. My baby fluttered inside me as if she felt my fear, as if she was scared too. I pressed my hand to my belly, trying to soothe us both.
She's safe. She's inside me. Nothing can touch her.
Angelo came around the couch with deliberate slowness and knelt in front of me, bringing himself to my level. His hands came to rest on my knees, warm and steady despite the turmoil I could see in his face.
"Serenity.” My name came out strained. "I want you to sit by the entryway. If something goes wrong—anything goes wrong—you will leave immediately with Lorenzo. No arguments. No hesitation."
I knew what he wasn't saying. If I didn't agree to this compromise, he'd have me locked in the library with Lorenzo, behind every ward and protection spell he could muster. He'd choose my safety over my agency every single time, even if it meant I'd hate him for it.
But I also knew he was terrified. And this—letting me stay, even at the edge of the room—was costing him everything.
I placed my hand over his, meeting his eyes. "I promise I will."
Angelo stood. “Lorenzo, fetch the rocking chair from the nursery.”
“Yes, boss.” He nodded and left.
Angelo helped me out of the sofa. I waddled toward the entryway, suddenly aware of all the eyes on us—concern etched on every face.
Lorenzo quickly returned with the padded rocking chair from the nursery—a beautiful piece in soft cream fabric with curved wooden rockers that gleamed in the Christmas lights.
Enzo brought a dining room chair and set it next to me. “Joy, sit next to Serenity. If something goes wrong, I want you to leave with her. I won’t lose you again.”
The protectiveness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. He was genuinely afraid of losing Joy again—which meant he thought this spell was truly dangerous.
Joy nodded, her face still flushed from Angelo's earlier words, and took the seat beside me.
I wanted to tell Angelo to ease up on her. Joy had proven herself a hundred times over, but he still watched her like she might be a threat. It wasn't fair—and it wasn't helping anyone feel safer.
Sometimes Angelo went too far. He still hadn’t completely forgiven her for losing control of her shadows when I got hurt, but that was months ago.
"Hold on." Dimitri pushed off from the fireplace mantel, his casual posture dropping away entirely. He looked at Gianna, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "If we're evacuating people, Gianna goes too."
Gianna's eyes flashed. "Dimitri, I'm not—"
"Not negotiable." His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek with unexpected tenderness.
"I know you're a badass vampire who can handle herself.
I also know Balthazar has a special hatred for Angelo's family.
I can't watch this spell and worry about you at the same time. Please."
The please did it. Gianna's defiance softened, and after a moment, she nodded.
Dimitri looked at Lorenzo. "She goes with them if things go south. Understood?"
Lorenzo inclined his head. "Understood.” He positioned himself between us and the rest of the room, his arms crossed over his broad chest, muscles rippling beneath his dark shirt.
His feet spread wide in a fighter's stance, balanced and ready.
His long black hair was pulled up into a neat bun, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face and the intensity of his dark eyes as they swept the room, cataloging every threat, every possible danger.
He reminded me of an ancient warrior from old tales—the kind who stood before castles and refused to let dragons pass. Ready to attack, ready to die if necessary, all to protect the princesses of the realm.
I found myself grateful that Angelo had chosen him. If anyone could get us out safely if things went wrong, it would be Lorenzo.
Angelo, Enzo, and Dimitri stood like a wall in the middle of the room, their bodies tense and ready. Valentin joined them, completing the line of defense between us and whatever might come through. All of them had fought Balthazar at one time or another. No one was underestimating his power.
"Perform the spell," Angelo said, his voice hard as steel.
The men blocked my view of the witches, but light began to glow from beyond them—silver-white, deep crimson, and warm amber flickering against the walls and ceiling like an aurora.
Voices rose together from beyond the wall of vampires, weaving in and out like a braid of sound:
"Veil between the worlds so thin,
Show us what lies deep within.
Through shadow, flame, and endless night,
Bring the darkness into light.
Barrier hold and circle cast,
Let no evil spirit pass.
Window open, vision clear,
Show us what we seek to fear.
By three times three, our power combined,
Pierce the veil but stay confined.
What we see cannot see through—
Save for shadows dark and true."
The air in the room grew heavy, thick with magic that made my skin prickle. The Christmas lights flickered, and the temperature dropped so suddenly I could see my breath misting in the air.
The men shifted slightly, and through the gap I glimpsed what formed between the three witches—the air shimmering and twisting like heat rising from summer pavement. Then it darkened, deepened, became something else entirely—a window into somewhere that shouldn't be seen by mortal eyes.
Beside me, Joy raised her hands, her fingers splayed wide, and her voice rang out with power and command. "Come to me, shadows. Protect Serenity, Gianna, and me."
The shadows in the room responded instantly—peeling away from corners, sliding out from beneath furniture, detaching from the Christmas tree's branches. They moved toward Joy with purpose, drawn to her like iron to a magnet, swirling and coalescing around us.
The darkness rose up like a wall, thick and impenetrable, wrapping around the three of us in the entryway.
It was cold where it touched my skin, but not unpleasant—more like a cool cloth on a fevered brow.
The blackness was absolute, hiding us, shielding us from view, but somehow I could still see out through it as if looking through tinted glass.
Gianna gripped my hand, her fingers cold and strong. I squeezed back, grateful not to be alone in this cocoon of darkness.
Through Joy’s veil of shadows, I could see the shimmer forming between the three witches, could see Angelo's rigid posture. Our room was growing darker, colder—the temperature dropping as the spell took hold.
I just hoped—prayed—Balthazar couldn't see us. That Joy's shadows were as impenetrable from the other side as they appeared. That he wouldn't know I was here in the room, vulnerable and pregnant, watching him from across the veil between worlds.
My baby shifted inside me, and I pressed my hand to my belly, silently promising her that everything would be okay.
Even if I wasn't sure I believed it myself.
Then the veil slowly peeled back like a scab torn from a wound.
Fires exploded into view—roaring, writhing walls of flame that never consumed, only tortured. Screams pierced the air, high and endless, the sound of souls in eternal torment. The noise hurt my ears, made me want to cover them, but I couldn't move.
I tensed, every muscle in my body going rigid as the memories crashed over me like a tidal wave.
My days trapped in hell with Balthazar—the fear that never ended, the loneliness that ate at my soul, the hopelessness that made me forget what sunlight looked like or what Angelo's touch felt like.
It all flooded back in an instant, so vivid I could smell the sulfur and ash, could feel the heat of those flames licking at my skin.
I squeezed Gianna's hand harder, my fingers digging in with desperate strength. I wished Angelo was next to me, wished I could feel his touch, grounding me, reminding me that I'd escaped, that I was free.
But he wasn't. He was out there, standing between me and whatever might come through.
My throat closed up, tight and painful, making it hard to breathe. Dread stirred in my gut, cold and nauseating, spreading through my limbs like poison. The baby moved anxiously inside me, sensing my terror.
I'm not there anymore, I told myself desperately. I'm home. I'm safe. He can't touch me.
But looking through that veil into hell, those words felt like lies.
Through the roiling smoke and ash, a shape materialized. A large barred cage suspended in the air by chains that glowed red hot, but it wasn't like any prison cell I'd ever seen.
It was decorated. Furnished.
There was a red leather couch, sleek and modern, positioned against one wall. What looked like a fully-stocked bar stood in the corner, bottles glinting in the hellfire light. And sprawled across the couch like he was lounging at an exclusive club was Balthazar himself.
He looked exactly as I remembered—exactly as he'd appeared in my nightmare.
Long black hair falling past his shoulders, tight leather pants that left nothing to the imagination, his chest bare and glistening with sweat from the infernal heat.
He looked like a rock star who'd sold his soul and then decided to redecorate his damnation.
The bastard actually had a martini glass in his hand, filled with thick red liquid that caught the firelight. Blood. It had to be blood. I didn't even want to think about whose.
He took a slow sip, savoring it, then his eyes—those dark, bottomless eyes—lifted.
And focused directly on me.
Freezing water flooded my veins. No. No. No, he couldn't see through Joy's shadows. He couldn't—
But I could feel him watching me. Feel his gaze like fingers trailing across my skin, crawling over my belly where our baby grew. Seeing. Knowing. Wanting.
A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.
He raised his glass in a mock toast, the blood inside sloshing against the sides. His voice cut through the screams, through the roar of flames, clear as if he were standing right beside me.
"See you soon, Serenity."
The words wrapped around my beating heart like a constricting snake, squeezing tighter and tighter until I thought it would burst.