Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Serenity
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
But my heart was racing and I couldn’t stop trembling. The way Balthazar had lifted his glass to me and said he’d see me soon. I wasn’t going back to hell. I rubbed my belly. Tears pushed on the back of my eyelids. My baby would never see that place.
Not now. Not ever.
Lorenzo stood in front of the library door like a watchdog. Balthazar would have to kill him to get to me.
Gianna was in the library with me. She sat beside me at the large mahogany table, holding my shaking hand in both of hers. Her grip was strong, steady—vampire strength tempered with gentleness. "Your baby will be safe, Serenity. None of us will let that bastard take her."
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. But Balthazar’s power was so strong, so damn strong. I’d seen the way he looked at me through that veil like I was already his. Angelo would burn the world down for us—I knew that. What if even that wasn’t enough?
I wiped a tear off my cheek with my free hand, but more kept coming. "But you heard him..." My voice broke. "He said 'see you soon.' Like it was already decided. Like he already has a plan."
"I did hear him." Gianna's jaw tightened, that fierce protectiveness that ran in her family flashing in her eyes.
"But Angelo would never let anyone hurt his child.
You know that. He'd burn the world down first." She squeezed my hand.
"Besides, it's Christmas. This is a time of joy and miracles.
We're not going to let some demon ruin that. "
Running footsteps echoed down the hallway, fast and urgent, then stopped just outside. My heart lurched into my throat, and I gripped Gianna's hand so hard she winced.
"Please, Lorenzo, let me talk to her." Joy's voice came from beyond the doorway, desperate and pleading. "I need to explain—I need to apologize—"
The terror drained out of me, and I released Gianna's hand. Joy. Just Joy. The desperation in her voice broke my heart. She sounded as traumatized as I felt—maybe more so, because she thought she'd failed me.
Lorenzo stood blocking the library entrance, his back to us, his massive frame filling the doorway completely. "Angelo wouldn't approve.”
"Lorenzo, let her in," I called out.
He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders tense. "Angelo wouldn't approve," he repeated, softer this time but no less firm.
"Lorenzo, I said let her in." My voice cracked with emotion and exhaustion. "Please."
Gianna stood from the table, adding her authority to mine. "Let her in, Lorenzo. Serenity needs her best friend right now, not another guard."
Joy practically flew across the library and dropped to her knees in front of me, clasping my hands in hers. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen. My heart twisted. She looked devastated—completely broken.
"Serenity,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. I really didn't think he could see through my shadows. Please forgive me."
I pulled one hand free and stroked her hair gently, the way I'd done a hundred times before when she was upset. "Joy, it's not your fault. Balthazar is really powerful. More powerful than any of us realized."
"But I promised—" She gulped down a breath. "I promised you'd be safe. I promised Angelo. And now he hates me, and you probably hate me too, and—"
"I could never hate you," I said firmly, cupping her face so she had to look at me. "You're my best friend. My sister. Nothing changes that."
Joy's lower lip trembled, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "We were supposed to make Mexican Wedding Balls this week," she whispered. "Remember? Like we always do in early December. It's our tradition." She let out a shaky breath. "And now you probably never want to see me again."
The mention of our annual cookie-making tradition hit me square in the chest. Every year in early December, Joy and I spent an afternoon in the kitchen, flour dusting our clothes, powdered sugar everywhere, laughing as we rolled the warm cookies in sugar—once, then again when they cooled.
We'd make batches and batches, filling tins to give as gifts, sneaking bites of the buttery, pecan-filled cookies while they were still warm.
It was sacred time, just the two of us, quiet and precious.
"Of course we're still making them," I said, squeezing her hands. "Joy, I need normal right now. I need my best friend and our traditions and something that feels safe and good. I need to roll cookies in powdered sugar and pretend, even for just an hour, that demons aren't trying to steal my baby."
That sounded simple, but even as the words left my mouth, my hand moved protectively to my belly. The fear was like a cancer I couldn’t shake, growing and spreading.
Heavy footsteps came down the hall—purposeful, commanding. Angelo. I recognized his stride immediately. When he walked that quickly, with that much force behind each step, he wasn’t happy. My stomach tightened.
Joy scrambled to her feet and darted behind my chair, practically pressing herself against the bookcase.
Lorenzo immediately stepped away from the doorway, his posture shifting to something more formal as Angelo strode inside. His eyes were still tinged with red, fangs visible even with his mouth closed, every line of his body coiled tight with barely suppressed violence.
My breath caught. He looked like he was barely holding himself together. I tensed, ready to defend Joy if his rage turned toward her, but his gaze locked on me instantly, scanning me from head to toe as if checking for injuries. “Serenity, are you all right?”
I nodded and tried to smile, fighting against the tears that burned behind my eyes. “I’m fine.”
He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled me into his arms, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other carefully around my back, mindful of my swollen belly pressed between us.
His touch against my overheated skin brought relief.
“I promise you you won’t be seeing him ever again,” he murmured into my hair.
The tears I had fought to keep at bay finally broke through. My damn hormones wouldn’t be denied any longer. A sob tore from my throat, then another, and suddenly I was crying in earnest, my face buried against his chest. “I don’t want to go back there. Angelo, I can’t—I can’t go back to hell—”
“You won’t.” His arms tightened around me, protective and sure. “I promise you, tesoro. Never again.”
He lifted my chin gently with his fingers and kissed me on the lips—soft, reassuring, grounding me in the present moment.
When he pulled back, his dark eyes held mine.
“Tinker Bell, Rose, and Prudence are warding the house right now. Every entrance, every window. He won’t be able to cross the barrier.
The wards are designed to send him back to hell, back to his cell, if he tries. ”
“Thank you.” I pressed closer to him, needing his strength, his certainty, even though a voice in the back of my mind whispered that certainty might not be enough against Balthazar.
His hand moved in slow, soothing circles on my back. “I will have guards everywhere. You’ll stay either here or in our bedroom. Always with a guard present. Lorenzo will—”
“No.” I pulled back enough to look at him, my fingers curling into his shirt, gripping the fabric.
“Angelo, I need to be safe—I know that. Our daughter needs to be safe. But I also need…I can’t spend my last days pregnant locked away in terror.
I need some moments of normalcy, of Christmas, of joy.
Can’t I have both? Protection and…life?”
He wiped my tears off my cheeks with his thumbs, his touch impossibly gentle. "What exactly is it that you want to do, amore?"
I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.
"I want to bake Mexican Wedding Ball cookies with Joy like we do every year.
We always make them in early December at her house—it's our tradition.
I want to roll them in powdered sugar and get flour everywhere and laugh about stupid things.
I want one afternoon that feels... normal. "
Something softened in his expression, the harsh lines of worry easing just slightly. He smiled—small, but real—as he pushed my damp hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. "As long as Lorenzo can be in the kitchen with you."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you. Where are you going to be?"
His jaw tightened, and I saw the king reassert itself over the worried mate. "Finding out more about this payment."
The word ‘payment’ jangled my nerves. I frowned, and the baby twirled in my stomach as if in protest, responding to my sudden spike of anxiety. "You're leaving?" My hand clutched his shirt tighter, panic rising. After everything that just happened, the thought of him not being here—
"No. Never." He covered my hand with his, pressing it against his chest where his heart beat slow and steady.
"I'm not going anywhere, tesoro. Enzo and I are going to work from here—research, make calls, use every contact we have to figure out who Balthazar owes this payment to and why he needs our daughter.
" His eyes burned with determination. "I will be in this house.
If you need me, I'm thirty seconds away. I promise."
I rose up on my toes—as much as I could manage right now—and kissed him, soft and lingering, pouring gratitude and love into it. When I pulled back, I managed a small smile. "Maybe I'll save you some cookies."
"I hope so." His lips curved into a teasing smile, that rare playful side of him emerging despite everything. He brushed his thumb across my lower lip. "I don't know if I've ever had Mexican Wedding Balls."
"Never? In all your centuries?" A laugh bubbled up, unexpected but welcome, easing some of the tightness in my chest. "Well, you're in for a treat.
They're buttery and nutty and melt in your mouth.
" I warmed to the topic, glad for something light to focus on.
"I might even make some peanut butter blossom cookies with a twist."
His eyebrow arched, curiosity sparking in his dark eyes. "A twist?"
I bit my lip, feeling almost giddy at having a secret. "You'll see. But trust me, you'll love them."
"Will I?" His hand came to rest on my belly, and his expression softened again, that vulnerable look he only ever showed me.
"Then I'll look forward to it. To sitting in our kitchen, eating cookies you made, watching you smile.
" His voice dropped lower, intimate. "To one perfect afternoon before our world changes forever. "
Something tender, something sweeter unfurled in my chest. Hope maybe. Or determination that we would have that moment, that Balthazar wouldn't steal this from us.
"We will have that," I whispered fiercely. "I promise."