Alaric's POV
The scent hit me before I even opened the door. Blood. Not mine, not the scent of any hunter, but Enzo's. Faint, sharp, familiar enough to snap every nerve inside me like a whip. My hands were already trembling with fury as I shoved the door open, the metallic tang heavy in the air, thickened by another smell one that belonged to a vampire.
I stalked through the house, my boots dragging blood from Samael that I hadn't cleaned because I was too impatient to wait. My chest burned. The thought of Enzo hurt, Enzo bleeding, someone touching him it was enough to drive me mad.
When I reached his room, the scene before me carved itself into my mind like fire etched into stone. Enzo was pinned down, his bathrobe ripped away, his body trembling beneath the weight of a vampire I recognized from the castle. His hand was on Enzo's throat, his body leaning close, his pants already undone.
For a second, I saw nothing but red.
