Chapter Seventeen
Enzo
Three guards rushed into Stefan’s office with a gurney, their heavy boots echoing against the marble floor. Anton stepped back as they hurried over to Killian and carefully lifted his unconscious form onto the stretcher. His face was deathly pale, almost gray, and his breathing was shallow.
The blood stone pulsed warm in my palm, and I could still feel that unsettling heartbeat rhythm against my skin. We’d gotten what we came for. The psychological pressure had worked perfectly. Killian had broken just like Angelo had predicted.
Perfectly. The word left a bitter taste. We'd broken a father by threatening his unborn child. Necessary? Maybe. Something I was proud of? Not even close. The guilt settled in my chest, heavy and permanent. I'd carry what I'd done here for a long time.
I slipped the stone into my jacket pocket, already analyzing what had gone wrong earlier. I should have known I would lose control when it came to Joy. My emotions had cloudedmy judgment, made me reckless. But once I'd regained control, I'd been able to manipulate Killian effectively—cold, calculated, exactly what an enforcer should be.
I'd never realized how much caring about someone could compromise you. How love could strip away every tactical instinct you'd spent years honing.
“Tell the doctor. He’s going to need blood,” Stefan said as he started to follow them. He turned to look at Angelo. “I take it you don’t need anything else? You got what you came for.”
Angelo straightened, satisfaction evident in his posture. “We did.”
“Then please see yourself out.” Stefan’s dismissal was polite but firm.
“We will.”
I glanced at Dimitri, who was still lounging against the wall with that satisfied smirk. Angelo showed no concern for Killian’s condition—why would he? We’d accomplished our objective efficiently and without permanent damage.
Or at least I hoped I hadn’t caused any.
But I knew Angelo; he wouldn’t let anyone see he was concerned about an enemy—if he did feel it. Never let them see weakness. In our business, we couldn’t afford vulnerability.
Killian was a dangerous adversary, and he wouldn’t forget this. But he was just another enemy on a long list of them. The blood stone had done its job, but the humiliation had also made him more dangerous. A humiliated enemy was often the most unpredictable kind.
Still, the Hollows was supposed to be impenetrable. I'd never heard of anyone escaping from this prison. Hopefully Killian wouldn't be the first.
Mission complete. Now we could get back to Joy.
The thought consumed everything else. Every terrible thing we'd done, every line we'd crossed—it had all been for thismoment. To get the blood stone. To open the portal. To reach her. My chest ached with the need to see her, to know she was alive, to pull her out of that dimension and never let her go again. How long had she been trapped there? Hours felt like days when I didn't know if she was safe. But now—finally—I had the means to bring her home.
Anton clasped Angelo’s arm. “Do you think this spell will work?”
Angelo shrugged. “The witch Tinker Bell says it will.”
Anton dropped his hand. “I need to notify the council about what’s happening down in New Orleans.”
A war in New Orleans. My hands clenched into fists. We had to get Joy out of that dimension while we still had a chance. She’d be trapped there if the portal closed during a supernatural war.
“I will contact you if I need the council’s help,” Angelo said as he pulled his phone out.
That wasn’t true. Angelo didn’t trust the council and would only contact them as a last resort.
“Pascal, we have what we came for,” he said. “Have the plane ready for takeoff.”
Dimitri, Angelo, and I headed out of the office and down the steps back to the car. Every step away from the Hollows was a step closer to Joy. The blood stone pulsed warm in my pocket—my key to reaching her, to finally ending this nightmare. How much longer until we could open the portal? Hours? Days? Every second she spent in that dimension was too long. I needed to get to her. Now.
Dimitri opened the door for Angelo, and I walked around the car. Guards were watching, their swords unleashed. Stefan must have given orders the moment we walked out. Can’t say I blamed him. We’d just proven how dangerous we could be.
I slid into the leather seat next to Angelo, the cool material a stark contrast to the tension radiating through my body. The scents of expensive cologne and old leather filled the enclosed space as I pulled the door shut with a solid thunk. Through the tinted windows, I could see the guards’ polished sword hilts gleaming in the afternoon light.
“Looks like we made Stefan nervous,” I said, keeping my voice low as I watched one guard shift his grip on his weapon.
My hand drifted closer to my own weapon. Stefan had let us take Killian's blood, but that didn't mean he'd let us leave peacefully. One word from him and those guards would open fire. We were on his territory, outnumbered, and we'd just tortured someone under his protection. The trip down the driveway suddenly felt a lot longer than it should.
