Dimitri glanced at his phone and input the numbers into the Escalade’s GPS. He pulled away from the curb and we headed away from the airport.
Fucking two hours. I thought about telling Angelo that I would fly there and wait for them, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to be calm, especially if Prince Killian was acting like a dick. He was infamous for that.
None of us spoke for about an hour. I kept thinking about Joy and what was happening to her. Where was she? If Ari let anything happen to her in that dimension, I’d rip him apart slowly—very slowly.
If I ever got the chance. The bastard was in another dimension, untouchable. My hands curled into fists.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. What if he kept her there forever? I had to find a way to open that portal and bring her home.
Angelo’s phone rang, and I jumped.
He answered curtly. “Yeah, Keir?”
His expression darkened as he listened. “When?... How close did she get?... No, don’t try to get her out yet. Wait until we get back, damn it.”
I growled. “What the hell happened?”
He stuffed his phone into his jacket. “Alice was captured by the vines.”
Damn it! “How? No one was supposed to go near the cathedral.”
Angelo drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee. “She said she could hear Rose calling out to her in agony. Thought she could help with their magical connection.”
I slammed my fist against the car door hard enough to make the metal buckle. “Then the spell won’t work.”
Dimitri glanced at Angelo in the rearview mirror. “Please tell me Tinker Bell can still work the spell without Alice.”
Angelo exhaled sharply through his nose. “She’s not sure. She thinks she can do it alone, but if she does, she’s only got one shot.”
“Why?” The word came out strangled, like someone was choking me.
“Because the spell will drain her magic and she won’t be able to try again for another twenty-four hours.” His face turned grim. “If it fails, we’re fucked. Joy, Valentin, Rose, Alice—all of them will be lost.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Twenty-four hours. In twenty-four hours, there might not be anything left to save.
All of our carefully laid plans were crumbling to dust in my hands. Unlike Angelo and Serenity, I didn’t have a psychic connection to Joy. Angelo could feel Serenity’s presence, sense when she was afraid or hurt. If something happened to her, he’d know instantly. But me? I had nothing. No thread connecting us across dimensions, no whisper in my mind. I had no way of knowing if she was alive, suffering, or already lost. The unknown was eating me alive, gnawing at my sanity with every mile that passed.
Dimitri finally pulled into the driveway that led to the Hollows. It was a place I had narrowly escaped—in fact, we all did. Our crimes were many, but not against the supernatural community.
The black sedan crested a rise, and the Hollows came into view.
I stared out the tinted window, my chest tightening as its pale stone walls rose like bleached bones against a storm-gray sky. The central keep loomed in the distance, flanked by four octagonal towers that seemed to pierce the clouds.
Beside me, Angelo sat utterly still, a dark silhouette of power and control.
Even without looking at him, I could feel the tension radiating off him, sharp and dangerous. In the front seat, Dimitri’s hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles pale as he guided us down the winding road toward the fortress.
Unlike the weathered black stones of old human prisons, the Hollows gleamed with an unnatural whiteness that made my eyes ache, like the walls had been scrubbed clean of life—and mercy. Medieval architecture clashed with modern technology: ancient arrow slits glowed with eerie, shifting light, while grotesque gargoyles crouched alongside gleaming security cameras.
The crenellated walls weren’t just for show. Even from the car, I could feel the hum of containment spells, a low vibration under my skin that grew heavier with every passing second. The closer we drew, the thicker the air became, until each breath was like inhaling magic-laced smoke.
A moat circled the prison, but instead of water, it churned with silvery mist. The vapor swirled and writhed as though it had a mind of its own, never quite touching the ground. For a heartbeat, I swore I saw a face within it—hollow eyes and agaping mouth—but then it was gone, leaving only the shifting fog.
The elaborate metal gates opened and Dimitri drove through, gravel crunching under the tires as we approached the main house. Every second felt like an hour. What if Stefan said no? What if Killian refused to cooperate even with Kara’s life on the line? What if we were already too late—if Joy was already dead and we were wasting time on impossible negotiations? My hands curled into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. Everything hinged on Stefan’s decision.
Angelo finally spoke, his voice a quiet blade in the oppressive silence.
“Remember this, Enzo. Once those gates close behind you…” His dark eyes flicked toward me, unreadable. “…there’s no getting out.”
