Bound (The Devil’s Vow #2)

Epilogue

The Final Act

A week had passed, and the lights of the stage burned down on me again.

This time, though, everything was different.

I was no longer just Erica, the dancer with a dream of being a prima ballerina.

With the hopes of one day finding a place where I belonged.

Now I was Mrs. Fortunato, and that was very obvious when I glanced out at the audience.

The crowd was nothing like the one from the premiere.

Before, it had been filled with the usual faces—patrons of the arts, critics, ballet enthusiasts, and a few celebrities sprinkled in for glamour. They’d worn sharp suits, evening gowns, pearls, and designer shoes while sipping champagne with their noses upturned and murmuring about technique and form.

The atmosphere had been elegant, snobby, refined, and maybe even a little too predictable.

But now, the theater had a completely different energy.

It was charged, humming with something darker, more intense.

The air itself seemed thicker with tension.

I could feel it the moment I stepped on stage for the first scene.

The seats were packed.

Every last one.

But it wasn’t the typical ballet crowd.

Not even close.

Now, I could see them—mafia men and their wives, girlfriends, or mistresses scattered throughout the grand hall, blending in with the occasional high-society regulars.

Their presence was unmistakable.

The men sat with an air of ownership, their bodies draped in tailored suits, and eyes scanning the room with an edge that was hard to miss.

Many had their arms slung protectively around the women next to them, claiming them in ways that reminded me of how Gianni did with me.

Some of the women sparkled with diamonds, dripping in expensive jewelry that probably cost more than this entire production.

Others wore their sultry confidence like armor, eyeing each other like predators sizing up competition.

There was a rawness in the crowd tonight, something primal.

And I was pretty sure that there were more guns in this theater than ever before in the history of its productions.

Plus, the applause was louder at the first intermission.

The gazes sharper.

The whispers charged with danger.

And right there, in the front row, was Gianni.

It was impossible to miss him.

His presence sucked the air out of the whole theater. And, he sat in the center, as if the seat had been carved out specifically for him.

As I danced, those piercing green eyes were fixed on me, unblinking, yet filled with pride and something darker. His gaze never left my body, not for a second. It was as if I was performing only for him.

In a way, I was.

Next to him sat his brothers—Stefan, Fabio, and Corrado.

The Fortunato men were like a wall of power in the front row—a force of nature that made everyone else fade into the background.

I could feel their protection, their silent control over the space. Nobody would dare cause trouble with the Fortunato brothers sitting right there, and I bet not one person would boo.

I wasn’t just Erica anymore.

I was Mrs. Fortunato.

And the whole theater knew it.

Now the final act began—the moment that I had not gotten to complete due to Vito and Maximo who. . .well. . .may they rest in peace. Gianni killed them the night before this performance. I had two bracelets made from their bones in my special jewelry box below the castle.

But there was no time to think of things like that.

See my reign, humans! Prepare to bow!

I twirled onto the stage as the victorious Vampire Queen that had escaped her hunters. My haunting music swelled, thrumming through my body and guiding my movements.

Yes. Oh yes.

The stage lights pulsed with the rhythm of the music, casting me in a haunting red glow as I moved.

Alright. Where are you, bastards? It’s time to finish you for good.

My limbs extended and swirled in perfect harmony with the melody.

The costume I wore for this final act was a masterpiece of dark horrific elegance.

The bodice was covered in shimmering black sequins that caught the stage lights and glimmered like shards of obsidian.

It hugged my body tightly.

The neckline plunged low and exposed just enough skin to make the audience’s gaze linger.

The red detailing on the front was dramatic—bold crimson patterns that ran down my torso, almost like veins of blood, twisting and turning like the very essence of life I had stolen from my victims.

Meanwhile, blood dripped from my mouth, chin, and neck, staining my brown skin.

It was a brilliant, theatrical touch.

The makeup artist had made sure it looked fresh, as if I had just finished feasting on my latest victims before stepping onto the stage. The sticky red liquid glistened under the lights, trickling down to where the black sequins met my skin.

The illusion was hauntingly real, and I could feel the audience’s tension rise with every move I made.

Yes, little humans. Be very afraid.

Far across the stage, ballerinos hid behind a large prop bush, waiting for their moment to get me.

I stopped in the center of the stage, lifted my nose, and dramatically inhaled.

Aww. I smell you, hunters. You cannot hide from me.

Of course this part was all new.

Before Gianni’s ridiculous obsessive demands to Melanique, the ballerinos would have jumped out of the shadows and grabbed me.

Then, it would have been a back and forth battle with my narrowly getting away as one by one they grabbed my arms and legs, until finally stabbing me with a wooden spike. And then I would have collapsed into Vaslav’s arms, dead and defeated.

Gianni didn’t like it at all.

In his mind, it was too many men with their hands all on me.

Five days ago, Melanique had been whisked away by Gianni’s brother, Corrado in typical Fortunato fashion—no warning, no chance for her to refuse. I could hardly imagine the look of confusion on her face when they showed up at the theater, all dark suits and silent stares.

But once she realized they weren’t there for any nefarious reason, Corrado told us that she let out a sigh of relief and, much to my surprise, agreed to come to the castle.

Melanique had stayed with me for one night, and what a night it was.

To my surprise. . .Corrado had remained too, silent and watching from the shadows.

Melanique and I were supposed to go over the new edits for the performance, but it quickly turned into a little slumber party.

That night had been perfect.

We feasted like queens on an array of the finest wines, cheeses, and decadent delights Gianni’s chef had prepared for us. The food was so indulgent that it felt like a celebration all on its own.

And as we poured more wine and nibbled on savory treats, Melanique and I stayed up well past two in the morning, laughing like we were teenagers.

Between fits of giggles, we brainstormed new ideas for the performance, going over each change with excitement as we turned the show into something even more spectacular.

I had never seen her so relaxed, so willing to adapt, and it was a relief to feel her enthusiasm match my own.

Gianni, true to his word, had been the perfect gentleman whenever he was around. He would check on us from time to time, making sure we had everything we needed.

His presence was always commanding, yet somehow softened when it came to Melanique and me.

It was strange, seeing this side of him, this protective yet almost. . .considerate side.

I had half-expected him to be his usual controlling self, but he had respected the space I needed to work with Melanique, only offering the occasional nod or quiet smile when he passed through.

And even dragging Coranado out of the room to give us girls some alone time.

By the end of the night, Melanique had agreed to every change I asked for without hesitation, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.

So now on stage, the ballerinos crouched in the shadows, their presence felt but unseen, waiting to kill me.

Yes. I can smell you good now.

I crept forward and raised my claws in the air, showing that I could sense them.

A woman shrieked in the audience.

They’re just out of reach.

I prowled across the stage.

Yes. Now I know where you are. It is time for another feast.

The black sequins on my costume shimmered under the red stage lights.

My lips curled back in a snarl as I bared my fangs to the audience.

To my shock, a few Capos jumped.

Ha! That’s right. Gianni married a vampire. Watch yourselves, bastards!

I sneered at all of them.

A few women shifted in their seats.

I put my gaze on Gianni and flashed my lethal claws.

Of course he didn’t jump or show a bit of fear. Instead he licked those lips, telling me that my costume would be on our bedroom floor as soon as I stepped into our bedroom tonight.

Calm down, Daddy.

And then just like that, the ballerinos jumped out of their hidden positions.

I hissed at them.

Let’s fucking go!!!

Slashing through the air with my claws, I moved with the speed and grace only a vampire queen would possess.

Some rushed away.

Cowards!

Others lunged at me with their imaginary wooden stakes, yet. . .they kept that five feet of space as if they were terrified of me.

I spun away from each strike, dancing and dodging under the dramatic wash of the red stage lights.

You will never defeat me! You will only die!

I took on my attackers one by one, leaping toward them and slashing their throats so fast it seemed like I didn’t even touch them.

Of course I hadn’t, but with the way people were shrieking and gasping in the audience, the effects were working.

Several fell with blood spraying all over the stage that was now littered with fallen hunters.

I cannot celebrate yet. I smell more. Someone else lurks in the shadows.

Still bristling for a fight, I looked around for more victims to quell my thirst.

Where are you? You cannot hide from me.

And there Vaslav appeared, stepping out of a shadowed corner of the stage.

Aww. You again? You must be suicidal!

The tension built to a fever pitch.

I could feel the audience holding their breath.

I prowled towards him slowly, savoring every moment.

But Vaslav had been through a lot since I’d last seen him. He’d fallen in love with a human and I was heading to her village to drink from her and her family. There was no way he would allow that.

He was willing to protect her to the point that he would let himself die just to get that stake in my heart.

Fast, Vaslav charged towards me with fierce determination blazing in his eyes, I leapt up into the air.

Those clear wires lifted me high so that I soared over him.

Idiot! You’ll never kill me!

But I was wrong.

I’d fallen right into Vaslav’s plan.

Even faster, he pulled out this special cross bow that had been holstered behind him.

What is that?!

The special crossbow was unlike any weapon I had ever seen before. It was sleek and modern, its polished metal frame adorned with intricate engravings that glowed.

But the true menace lay in its loaded ammunition—wooden stakes, sharpened to deadly points, each one carved with runes that spoke of vampire lore.

Vaslav aimed my way.

No. No. No.

He fired.

The music surged into a crescendo.

An arrow whistled through the air, blazing with ethereal light and being controlled by a stagehand hidden above us.

Desperately, I jerked against the wires holding me aloft, but it was too late.

No. . .Not like this!

The arrow found its mark, piercing my chest.

The audience gasped.

The impact was perfect.

The illusion flawless.

Several more horrifying gasps rippled through the audience.

No!

Shocked, I looked down at my chest and spread my hands out.

How could this be?

I spun in mid-air, my body twisting violently as if the force of the arrow had shattered my immortal form. My limbs flailed in tight, controlled circles that made my body turn faster, and my arms and legs become a blur of motion.

And then suddenly, there was no more strength in my limbs.

My spinning slowed until I became limp.

He must have put some dark potion at the tip.

Feeling myself die, I tried to lift my hands to my chest and failed.

Whatever this is. . .the damn thing is paralyzing me.

All I could do was put my view on Vaslav.

What have you done?

The orchestra ceased with playing as if they too were petrified.

I twisted my face in horror letting the audience know that the pain was worse than anything I could have possibly imagined.

I kicked my legs around, making me spin slowly as I finally fell back to the stage floor. The impact was soft, but the visual was sharp—a heap of crimson and black.

And there I lay.

Twitching for a few seconds.

And then dying.

I bit down on the little pouch in my mouth and blood spilled out of my lips.

A woman gasped in horror.

Yes, girl. Me too. It didn’t have to be this way.

My eyes fluttered shut.

I could have ruled them all.

Vaslav approached cautiously, yet making sure there was always five feet between us.

He kept his crossbow aimed at me.

Granted, he had done his job but even he seemed shocked at how quickly I had been brought down.

This. . .isn't. . .over. . .

The silence in the theater was deafening.

And then a flute played.

The soft sound cut through the heavy silence.

I could feel the tension building around me, the disbelief settling into the minds of everyone who had just witnessed the fall of the Vampire Queen.

From the side of the stage, I heard the rustling of fabric and the sound of soft, hurried footsteps.

I closed my eyes, knowing what would happen next.

It all played out in my mind as I heard the appropriate sounds.

Out of the shadows, Vaslav’s new love—a young Cuban woman with flowing black hair twirled onto the stage, clad in simple, peasant clothing. Her wide, innocent eyes searched the stage for the body of her fallen enemy—me.

And when she saw my crumpled form lying motionless in a heap of black and crimson, her face lit up with relief.

Behind her, more villagers began to pour onto the stage, emerging from behind the bushes and shadows as they celebrated the end of my reign.

They were dressed in humble garments too.

The full orchestra began in this upbeat triumphant song.

I knew that by now Vaslav had lowered the crossbow and would be embracing his new lover as all the villagers danced around them.

Yeah. Yeah. You all won. Don’t rub it in.

Those bastards celebrated for a good bit of time on that stage while I lay still.

And then, with a final flourish from the orchestra and the last note of the flute fading into nothingness, the curtain came down, and the theater erupted into applause.

Whew. I finally finished a whole ballet!! Yes!

I remained still for a few more moments, letting the darkness envelop me, letting the finality of the performance sink in.

I fucking did it! And Gianni didn’t kill anyone on stage! It’s done.

But deep down, I knew.

This wasn’t the end of my story.

Not by a long shot.