Copyright © 2024 by Mindy Paige

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Edited by Jenny Sims (Editing4Indies)

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THE REAPER’S VICE

A masked killer is on the loose, and he’s obsessed with one thing—breaking her.

Seraphina Valez has lived through harrowing times, but nothing could have prepared her for Orion Adair. Not his looks. Or his charm. And certainly not the vicious beast lurking beneath his skin.

But Seraphina has a backbone, and she’ll need it to protect her heart from her scarred and tattooed kidnapper. Especially when being bound and at his mercy starts to seem like a good thing...

Orion Adair has never wanted anything more than Seraphina. Not even getting out of prison for a life sentence.

Putting on a plague mask and chasing her through the woods isn't enough to win this woman’s heart. He’s going to have to change his ways and step into the role of protector. Especially when the mysterious organization she’s been hiding from for ten years comes to collect her.

Little do they know, Seraphina already belongs to him. Anyone who touches her will pay the ultimate price.

PREFACE

This book is dark. This book is tragic. This book is kinky. This book has a horror element. This book is weirdly humorous in places and wildly chaotic in others. This book contains many things that will not make sense at the moment but will be answered by the end.

This book is number 3 in a series of interconnected standalones. I’ve included a brief recap of things that happened in prior books, so even if you did not read #1 or #2, you should still be able to follow along and enjoy the story. (But be advised: The Reaper’s Vice takes place 10 years after The Phantom’s Vice and 12 after The Devil’s Vice. As such, this book will contain spoilers for those stories.)

And last, but most importantly…

This book contains explicit material that is not intended for those under the age of 18. Please read all of the following content warnings.

Your mental health matters above all else <3

For a complete list of content warnings, click here. Or visit mindypaigewrites.com

FOREWORD

Hello, darling.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Don’t worry. I could never forget about you. Or, more specifically, the warning I must impart on you before you start this dark tale. You need to know that⁠—

Blah blah blah. My God. You’ve been through this two times already. She already knows this is a dark series. Not everyone is a geriatric fuck like you who can’t even remember what they had for breakfast.

That’s not very nice of you to say, Orion…

I’m just pointing out the obvious.

If Sloane wasn’t watching right now, I swear, I’d string you up by your ankles and⁠—

That’s entirely your fault for producing a spawn. Would you let me get back to the warning now?

*Glares* I was doing the warning. It’s kind of my thing.

Well, now your “thing” is changing diapers and playing dollhouse. May I continue?

*sigh* Fine.

Thank you. *clears throat*

Ladies and gentlemen. Depraved souls, corrupted minds, and ne'er do wells… gather round for this grand tale of⁠—

You’re doing too much. Just… read the script.

Fuck you. I don’t want to read a script.

*sigh* This is why I always do the introduction.

You’re just jealous that my warning is better than yours.

*Ghosty eye roll* I’m concerned you’re making light of some very… disturbing themes.

If you’re not laughing, you’re crying, right?

*Glares*

Twisting turnips, you got me. I’ll take the warning seriously.

*relieved sigh* Thank you. That’s all I wanted to hear. And I’m scared to ask, but… twisting turnips?

I’m afraid I couldn’t begin to explain to a plebian such as yourself.

*Stunned silence*

Anyway! *Clears throat while unbuttoning shirt* Ladies and gentlemen, depraved souls and kink collectors—gather round. For I have a tale so scandalous, so dark and depraved it will leave you⁠—

*Ghost clears his throat while Orion tries to speak past the gloved hand covering his mouth.*

Please…please just read the content warning, darling. I can’t go through much more.

*Begging eyes*

*Orion struggling in the background*

It’s for your own good!

*Drags Orion off-page*

We’ll talk later…I have to handle this monstrosity.

P.S.

I’ll know if you were good or not.

Kisses,

Ghost

RECAP

The Devil’s Vice

In book 1, we were introduced to the world of Moriton. Crime and drug addiction is rampant, and it’s not safe on the streets after dark. An addictive substance known as X is being trafficked and distributed by the MC’s and other criminal organizations.

We meet Kain (the second in command of the Hellfyre MC) and Lillith (a trauma intern at Moriton Memorial). She saves his life one night, and he becomes obsessed with her (stalks and kidnaps her). We also meet a mysterious masked man named Ghost, and his teenage apprentice, Orion.

Later, we learn that Kain’s MC is at war with a rival MC (the Hounds). They kidnap Lillith one day, and he goes on a killing rampage to get her back (Ghost helps… because he just knows things).

We find out that the Hounds are overseen by a mysterious organization called The Sanctum, and are involved in far more heinous crimes (such as human trafficking). A woman going by the name of “Madam” seems to run things, though we do not know any more.

The Phantom’s Vice

In book 2, we learned about The Sanctum and the members who work for them. It was discovered that The Sanctum deals in many things, including drug and child trafficking, assassination, espionage, and other violent crimes. (They were also found to have ties to the FBI and to have sleeper agents working within.)

We found out the main workforce of The Sanctum consists of Men known as “Masks”, and that there are three levels (each is assigned specific duties within the organization).

We met Ghost, who is a Phantom (highest level of Mask, dealing in assassination and espionage), and we met Brett (who is the FBI agent tasked with catching him). He is ordered by The Sanctum to kill her, but doesn’t want to. She is supposed to bring him to justice, but ends up wanting him instead.

As the story progressed, we learned that at the head of the Sanctum is the Madam (that lady mentioned in book 1). She was a woman trained from birth to be the most ruthless, cold-blooded ruler of the organization. (Like Masks, Madams must go through rigorous training and trials in order to become the next ruler of the Sanctum).

At the end of book 2, the Madam was killed (along with her Table Members), leaving the Sanctum fractured. Their Madam in Training mysteriously went missing in the chaos, and without a true Madam to lead, the Sanctum cannot be whole.

It has been 10 years since that fateful day… and many things have changed.

PROLOGUE

10 years ago…

The bells. The bells of death are tolling.

Sobs echo throughout the gold-hewn hallway, rattling my skull with a violence that compels me to stop. The wall in front of me pitches to the side as gold drips down in thick, messy puddles, coating my bare feet in molten lava as the sounds of grief imbue the hollow halls of my mind. They scratch something deep in my nervous system, something long since forgotten—and they order me to investigate. To see. To remember.

Without thinking, I press my palm to the panel, and the secret door slides open silently. I scurry out on hands and knees, gripping the wall for support as I right myself, trying to ignore how the world twists and shudders around me. I blink away the haze, only to jerk my head over my shoulder as a shrill ringing sounds in the distance.

Ding… dong… ding… dong…

I know the sound isn’t real, but I can’t move away. I stand there, a slave to the violent gong echoing throughout my head. My chest.

Ding… dong… ding… dong…

Sviato nudges my calf with the side of his face, pulling me from my trance. His sister, Savyne, pads carefully behind him, nuzzling her head against my leg in a similar manner to her brother. Both tiger cubs are shrouded in a beautiful rainbow haze, the contrasting colors pulsing and dancing together in a dazzling performance.

Blinking away the mirage, I force my face into a stern expression. “Sviato, Savy… stay,” I command, raising my voice as much as I dare to bend the cubs to my will. Sviato flicks his left ear, drawing his nose in the air as if to sense impending danger. He lets out a low growl as I move from behind the wall but otherwise stays put, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

It’s short-lived because that wailing echoes in my head in the next moment, dispelling any semblance of peace I had obtained. As soon as I straighten, my eyes connect with those of a beautiful black-haired woman, her face twisted in sorrow as she clutches a bloodied man to her chest.

And it’s not just any man—the gleaming black mask lying on the floor tells me he was the highest-ranking Mask. The Phantom.

I step forward without thinking, my curiosity getting the better of me. I’ve never met a Phantom before—only lower-level Masks like Reapers and Disposers—and I’m overcome with the need to understand why he’s here, now, in this strange woman’s arms.

Yet the bells ring.

Dong… dong… ding… dong…

“He’s dying,” I say, eyes locked onto the Phantom, the pool of blood blossoming along the expensive carpet. The ringing gets louder as the woman and her brutish companion whip their heads up to meet my gaze. It occurs to me then what the bells are for.

“So is she,” I whisper, knowing with some part of me that the Madam is dying, if not already dead. And that can only mean one thing…

“Who the fuck are you?” an impossibly deep voice demands. I pull my gaze to the imposing man standing over the woman’s shoulder, nearly mistaking him for a Mask due to the piece of metal covering the right half of his face. A… half mask?

I don’t get the chance to inquire—the Phantom needs my help.

I reach toward the man, but in the next moment, that half-masked one turns a murderous gaze on me, looking like he’d use the last of his life to protect the fallen Phantom as he screams, “Don’t you fucking touch him! I’ll⁠—”

The woman holding the Phantom raises a hand, silencing the brutish man to my utter surprise and gratitude.

“Who?” She turns her emerald gaze on me. “Who’s she?”

It occurs to me she may not know about the Madam or care about her fate. But I don’t have time to explain, so I simply tilt my head over my shoulder toward the devil’s chambers.

“Oh…” The woman’s eyes go wide, seeming to understand.

I give her a nod, finding it hard to concentrate over the ringing in my head. “Ding dong, the queen is dead. Ding dong, the bell doth toll. Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong…”

“You should help them.”

I jerk my head to the side, my eyes widening as I take in that familiar face. What are you doing here? I want to ask. But that’s not the question that pours from my lips.

“And why should I?” A wave of anger heats my veins at the thought. “This is the design.” We live, and we die. There is nothing else.

The apparition shakes its head, a sad little smile tugging at its lips. “That’s not true though… is it, Seraphina?”

I blink, and it’s gone, the presence replaced with a dense, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Who… who are you talking to?” I jerk my gaze back to the beautiful emerald-eyed woman, watching sadly as she gazes around wildly for a sign of another person.

I open my lips to explain when it occurs to me that I don’t know. Maybe I did at some point, but the fog coating my mind won’t allow me to see it clearly enough.

I shake my head, drawing my eyes to the beautiful woman’s, barely fighting off tears. “They want me to help you.” I don’t know who they are, but I know what they wanted. And I know I will do what I must, will do anything for them.

“Who?” she demands, clutching the fallen Phantom tighter to her chest. “Who wants you to help me? Who are you?”

The room pitches to the side, a kaleidoscope of color spreading, dripping, spiraling in front of my eyes. Different shades of gold swirling, swirling, swirling into the others, converging into a disgusting shade of brown. The walls get closer, and the echoes get louder. And suddenly, I have to let the sound out, or I just know I’ll explode.

“Ding dong. Ding dong.” I try not to scream from the blossoming pain in my temples. “I must work quickly,” I breathe, reaching into my pocket. My fingers close around the vial of Vespyr—a powerful clotting agent used by the Sanctum for gunshots and stab wounds—but I find the surface too cold to hold on to for long. Ice spreads through my veins, racing for my heart. But I have to do this. I have to help. “Where the blood flows, life goes. To stop the stream, we must dam the river.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she screeches. “What are you talking about?”

I suck my teeth, not realizing I said that last part aloud. Even if I wanted to explain, I don’t have the time, so I simply crouch by the dying Phantom, inching the tip of the syringe to the center of his wound.

Before I make contact, the woman’s hand shoots out, gripping my arm and stopping me from advancing. “The blood is leaving. I must work quickly,” I murmur, a deep frown settled between my brows as I try to make her see reason. “He will die⁠—”

“I know that!” she snaps. Looking away, she takes a deep breath before starting again. “I know that… but what are you doing to him? How do I know that stuff won’t kill him?”

Suppose it did? It would be a kindness. Now that he’s shown his face, the Sanctum will never allow him to live.

“Silly woman.” I sigh, ripping my arm from her and proceeding toward the wound once more. “It will stop the bleeding. For a time.”

I press the handle of the syringe, and a milky-silver substance pours from the tip into the wound. Within seconds, the bleeding stops, and I sit back with a haughty expression.

“I told you.”

The woman shakes her head, unable to take her eyes from the ashen skin on the Phantom’s face. I notice the other man’s attention fixed on the dying Phantom and use their distraction to slip away.

As I’m rounding the corner, I hear her ask another favor. But I’m too far to make out exactly what she said. Just before I slide back into the hidden door, I peek out, catching a glimpse of the woman’s wide-eyed expression. She looks like she just saw a ghost—and maybe that’s true.

Maybe I don’t really exist.

I’m about to close the door when a third set of footsteps races down the hall, the sound overshadowed by a new male voice.

“Brett! Kain!”

My heart thunders in my ears as I take in the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. His eyes are a stunning, piercing blue, peeking out from shocks of long, wavy black hair—hair I would love to run my fingers through.

The handsome stranger crouches by the Phantom’s head, his expression ashen. “Is he…?”

“He… I don’t think so,” the woman—Brett?— whispers. “He… he doesn’t have much time left, though.”

“Fuck!” The boy rakes his hands through his hair, clearly distraught. That is, until he looks toward the wound on the Phantom’s leg, realizing the blood has stopped flowing. “Did you find something to help?”

Brett and the brutish man exchange glances, and I know exactly what they're thinking about. Should they tell him about me? For some reason, the thought causes my heart to stutter.

“I found… I found some kind of syringe thing in his pocket,” Brett lies. “It stopped the bleeding, but it won’t last for long.”

The boy nods, not bothering to question the coincidence. “Let’s get him out of here—come on.” The boy stoops, pulling the Phantom’s arms over his shoulders like a backpack. I take one last glance at his straining muscles before I close the door, retreating into the darkness with Sviato and Savyne.

I slide to the floor of the secret passage, closing my eyes as the walls continue to swirl and drip. I breathe through my nose in an effort to stave off the nausea—but then a burst of color spreads behind my closed lids, and I pitch to the side, the contents of my stomach emptying onto the stone floor.

Something is wrong. Something terrible has happened.

The bells are still ringing in my head, calling me, urging me to move down the passageway. Without thought, I follow, holding on to the wall for support as I stumble toward Madam’s chambers. Each step is more difficult than the last, the throbbing in my head and joints unbearable and causing me to black out several times along the way.

When I finally push open the secret door into Madam’s chambers, my vision swims with bursts of color exploding everywhere I look. I step to the center of the room, trying to make out the fuzzy shapes spread around the floor. Thick swaths of red spread from them like halos. I don’t understand—not until I crouch next to one and swirl my fingers around the warm red liquid—that the forms spread around the room are dead bodies.

And not just any dead bodies—corpses of the Table Members. Their bird masks are still strapped to their faces, but the brilliant gold hue is dimmed greatly by the blood and filth spattered across the impressive beaks.

Who… who could have done something like this?

My mind is brought back to the four strangers in the hall. If the dying man was indeed a Phantom, then there’s no doubt he was the perpetrator of this mass killing.

I gaze around the circular room, my eyes landing on each of the fallen Table Members. Instead of sadness or even regret, the only thing pulsing through my body is raw, blazing hatred. It should have been me. This should be the evidence of my vengeance spread across Madam’s floor. It should have been mine.

A shuddering gasp fills the air, and my eyes drag to a golden heap on the opposite side of the room. A thick trail of blood spreads from where she’s dragged herself away from the carnage, but there’s no doubt about it—the Madam is still alive.

I’m not exactly sure what happens next. One moment, I’m running toward the Madam, a scream of rage bellowing into the gold-hewn chamber. The next, deep fissures are exploding in my vision, and the world falls out from under me.

I blink, and I’m outside.

Confused, I look over my shoulder, shocked to find the Sanctum headquarters engulfed in a terrible fiery blaze. It heats the bare skin along my back and brings tears to my eyes as the smog infects the clear night air.

Where am I? What am I… what am I doing here?

The frozen concrete bites at the bare soles of my feet, though it warms by the second as the heat from the building creeps into the structures surrounding the blaze. I turn in a slow circle, closing my eyes as a sense of calm washes over me, an intense contrast to the shuddering, moaning skyscraper as it succumbs to the blaze.

With a deep breath, I move away from the flames into the night. But even as I move farther and farther away, I swear I can hear the fire whispering to me. Telling me to turn around and remember something—something important.

One day, I’ll realize what it was.

Though I will wish I hadn’t.

PART ONE

THE SOWING

1

ORION

“THE REAPER”

“And how does that make you feel?”

I shift my weight against the cracked leather sofa, pinning a glare at the tweed-covered psychiatrist opposite me. My blood's at boiling point, waiting for that spark of fire to set me alight. But there’s no oxygen in the room, nothing for the wildfire to take root in.

“Mr. Adair?”

I blink once, clearing the fog as I slide my thumb over the silver cuffs strapped to my wrists. “Yes?”

“I asked—how does that make you feel?”

I gaze over his shoulder at the singular barred window. Just beyond the iron bars, the limb of a mighty oak juts out, blocking out the sun. And on that branch rests a crow, his beady black eyes seeming to stare directly through the window and into my soul. It ruffles silver-tipped feathers, and my heart clenches as I long to reach out. To be free of this prison.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, never taking my eyes off the small-winged omen. “I haven’t really thought much about it.”

The man looks over the top of his Coke bottle glasses, his muddy-brown eyes glinting hungrily as he shifts in his cushy plaid armchair. “Dig deep. Really deep.”

I sigh, threading my fingers together and squeezing hard. Being locked in maximum prison for the past eight years has made me feel a variety of things—none of which I would even consider sharing with this shifty medical professional. Not unless I was desperate for a one-way ticket to the chair, that is.

“It makes me feel…” Like I want to murder someone. “Angry.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Kebler drops his eyes to his notepad, and a flurry of scribbles ensues. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“Hmm.” Another round of furious note-taking. I flex my hand, resisting the urge to rip the little piece of plastic from his hand and shove it through his jugular.

“What the fuck could you possibly be writing?”

Dr. Kebler freezes, a small tugging at his thin lips as he raises his gaze back to mine. “Observations. Is that a problem?”

“It’s fucking rude is what it is.”

“And how does my… perceived rudeness make you feel?”

Like I want to murder you.

“It makes me angry,” I say, grinding my teeth at the haughty expression that takes over his face. “Really fucking angry.”

Dr. Kebler puts down his pen, leaning back in his armchair and crossing his slack-covered chicken legs. “It seems many things make you angry, Mr. Adair.”

“I think it’s pretty understandable, considering the state of the world.”

“And what state is that?”

I clench my jaw. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m a psychiatrist—it comes with the profession.”

I shift my gaze to the browning plant in the corner of the room, a new wave of murderous rage pulsing through my veins. “Your Dracaena is dying.”

“My what?”

“Your snake plant.”

Dr. Kebler twists, taking in the sad state of the succulent. “Ah, yes. My wife often complains about my black thumb.” With a shrug, he turns back to me, his eyes holding a deeper sheen of interest. “I’m more interested in your use of the scientific name.”

I turn my attention to a piece of dirt lodged under my nail. “I like plants and animals. I hardly think it’s anything to write home about.”

“Hmm.”

“And that’s another thing.” I bring my gaze up to Dr. Kebler. “You keep humming.”

“Humming?”

“Yes.” I grit my teeth. “It’s distracting.”

Dr. Kebler raises one wiry brow. “Do you always change the subject this often? Or is it just when someone tries to find out something more than surface-level with you?”

I flex my hand. “Maybe I just don’t appreciate some old coot trying to get into my head.”

“Neither wishes to be here, Mr. Adair, I assure you. I find you just as—if not more—unpleasant, pestilent, and insufferable as you do me. No part of me wants to be anywhere near your head.”

“That’s what your wife said last night,” I murmur, leaning back with a smirk. “Of course right after, she wrapped her lips around my cock, so I have to assume you’re lying as hard as her.”

Dr. Kebler sighs, pulling his glasses from his face and placing them lens-down on the coffee table. “I have other patients who want to see me, Mr. Adair. Instead of wasting my time, perhaps you would like me to call Mr. Funnel to escort you back to your cell…” Dr. Kebler moves to stand, and I let out a defeated sigh, causing him to sink back into the worn leather.

“Are you agreeing to talk?”

I nod, picking at a stray orange thread hanging from the inseam of my jumpsuit. I grit my teeth as the cheap metal handcuffs scrape the inflamed skin along my inner wrists, which Dr. Kebler mistakenly takes as a sign of mental anguish.

“It’s okay, Mr. Adair. It’s okay to be vulnerable. You’re in a safe place.” He reaches for his pad and pen, then sits back with that same inquisitive gaze from earlier. Like I’m an obedient little rat in a cage. Nothing more than a test subject, a case number in his next paper.

He has me sorely mistaken.

“Forget solitary. Let’s go back to our earlier conversation,” Dr. Kebler says, flipping back a page and skimming the words hungrily. “We were talking about your mother. Her struggle with addiction, and how she was in the room with you when she overdosed… And that made you feel…?”

“Upset.”

“Upset…”

I nod. “That’s right.”

“And… would you like to elaborate?”

I shrug, drawing my brows together like I’m deep in thought. “I guess… I’m just now realizing I’ve forgotten what the sun feels like on my skin. I’ve forgotten the sound of laughter. The smell of my mother’s fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. I guess it’s just now hitting me how long I’ve been here. How long I will be here.”

“Ten consecutive life sentences is a long time.” Dr. Kebler nods, not even noticing my sarcastic tone as he scribbles in his notepad. “Have you been having any suicidal thoughts?”

“No need to beat around the bush, Doc. I can handle it.”

Dr. Kebler gives me a blank look as he underlines something he just wrote down. “I need to know, Mr. Adair. You’ve been here eight years, and already your grip with reality is starting to fade. A lifetime is a long time to spend in solitude, and it will only get worse from here.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Talking about your issues. Your thoughts and fears. Get all the repressed stuff out in the open.”

“And that’s supposed to help me?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back with a big smile. “It helps tremendously to have someone unbiased listen to your feelings. Trust me.”

Trust me. “You know… I killed the last person who asked me to trust them.”

Dr. Kebler shifts his eyes to my cuffs nervously. “And which of your last eighteen cell mates was that?”

I cock my head, a manic laugh bubbling at my lips. “You really know nothing, do you, Doctor?”

“Only a fool would claim he knows everything.”

My lips thin into a frown, and I lean back in my chair, my foot increasing the pace with which it taps against the floor. Waiting for him to break the silence.

“Since you clearly don’t want to talk about your mother…” Dr. Kebler regards me with a solemn gaze, glancing briefly at my file before bringing his pen to his pad. “What about your sister?”

“What about her?” My foot ceases its tapping as I sit up straighter. “They have stuff about Annabelle in there?”

Dr. Kebler sits back with a smirk. “We have all kinds of information about you, Mr. Adair.”

I have nothing to say to that.

He frowns, scribbling something on his pad before drawing his attention back to me. “She died young, yes?”

“Too young,” I say, my voice suddenly hoarse. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Hmm. Yes, very tragic,” he murmurs, scribbling violently with one hand and pushing up his glasses with the other. “They said you were the one to call the police.”

I nod. “Yes.”

“You were only three. I imagine that had some… lasting effects on you.”

I look out the window at that tree branch, noting that the crow has now flown away. “Now that I’ve thought about it… I don’t really think talking will help me very much.”

Dr. Kebler raises his brows. “Do you have something else in mind?”

“Maybe a change of scenery…” I glance toward the small barred window behind Dr. Kebler’s desk. “It does get a little stuffy in this place. You know, I used to love going to the ocean when I was little—the sand between my toes, the fresh air…”

Dr. Kebler laughs like I just told the greatest joke of the year. “Yes, changes of scenery can often help people suffering from mood disorders and being cooped inside for so long. However, I think we’ll need to be a little more creative given the… circumstances.”

I continue looking out that window, rubbing the raw flesh along my wrists. “Mm. I don’t know. I think a change of scenery is just what I need.”

Dr. Kebler’s throat bobs. His eyes shift nervously toward the locked door, where an armed guard is waiting on the other side. And I know what he’s thinking. Would the guard get here in the time it takes for me to lunge across and snap his neck? Probably not. The doors don’t open that quickly.

“I think I’d like to go back to my cell now, if that’s alright.”

Dr. Kebler’s complexion brightens at least three shades as he presses the call button for the guard. There’s a loud buzzer, followed by two distinct clicks as doors unlock and hiss open slowly.

I shuffle through the doorway, a manic smile spreading across my face as Joe, the security guard, leads me back to my cell. We pass through several more doors before we come to a long hallway with dozens of cells breaking up the wall on each side.

Inmates push their arms out through the bars as we pass, some trying to grab at me, others flashing vile gestures that aid the filth spewing from their mouths. I try to muster an ounce of fight, but I realize I can’t even blame them for their hatred. After all, everyone here thinks I did it. They all think I killed that little girl. Arelia.

And I’ve never denied it because… well, because it’s true. But it was in no way how the news outlets and the prosecutors made it seem. Of course, in Moriton, hardly anything is how it first appears.

Especially things that happen after dark.

“Pick up the pace,” Joe snaps, prodding me in the back with his electric baton. A violent pulse of electricity spreads through my body, causing my eyes to roll back as my body convulses involuntarily. A cruel cackle makes it through the thick fog of my mind as I writhe on the floor, thick bolts of pain causing my heart rate to spike and sweat to bead across my brow.

“That’s it, maggot. Squirm for me.” Joe sneers, digging the tip of the baton deeper into my spine. The world goes black for a few moments, and when I regain consciousness, I’m splayed flat on my side with foaming saliva falling from my opened mouth. Fucking nasty.

With a grunt, I shove myself to my feet, all the while trying to blink away the fog that’s overcome my vision. “You’re a real pissant, Joe, you know that?”

A snarl leaves his thinned lips as he raises the baton high over his head. “What the fuck did you say to me, maggot?”

I watch with glee as his thumb presses a button of the thick black stick, followed by a hum of electricity signifying he increased the voltage.

“I said…” I pause, trying to keep the manic laugh from bursting forth. “I said that you’re a disgusting piece of human refuse in dire need of an attitude adjustment.”

His eyes light with fire. “I’m going to make you regret that.” He adjusts his grip on the baton, his biceps flexing as he aims to bring it down on my head, but I’m faster than that. In an instant, I duck low, sweeping my body in a half arc and appearing on the other side of Joe’s baton. With a sick grin, I rear my head back, enjoying the startled look in his light green eyes as I bring my head forward, smacking into the bridge of his nose with a sickening crack.

“That’ll do it.” My smile widens as I watch his body slump to the floor.

I drag him by his collar into my cell, the sound of cheering and cursing growing to a cacophony as the rest of the prisoners realize what I’ve done. I rip the guard uniform from his body and replace my orange outfit with one of blue and black.

I’ve barely buckled the belt when the alarm goes off, the shrill drowning out the riotous noise from the prisoners and sending a shock of fear to my heart. But I don’t have time to be afraid. I don’t even have time to think as a swarm of guards round the corner, their batons raised with murderous snarls as they race toward me.

Instinct takes over as I grab the officer’s baton and click it on, smirking as a buzz of electricity fills the air. I raise it high, touching the tip to the electrical box just above my cell door.

There’s a blast of sparks, and then all hell breaks loose.

The cell doors throughout the hall short-circuit at once, the cheering from the prisoners overshadowing the alarm as they realize they’re free. A laugh peels from my mouth as I watch the officers’ faces fill with horror at the way they turn on their heels and try to outrun the angry mob of prisoners chasing them.

The men are angry, and they’re out for blood. I can’t blame them, but I also cannot participate. I have something more important to attend to.

Screams fill the air, thick with the tang of blood as I walk down the hallway, my eyes taking in the mass amounts of carnage with disbelief. It’s barely been a minute, and the prisoners have managed to tear the crowd of guards to shreds—quite literally. Body parts, brains, and sinew coat the walls, the floors. Hell, even the ceiling is spattered with its own mixture of human innards.

Police sirens sound in the distance, and I quicken my pace, pulling the key card from my pocket and holding it to my chest like the lifeline it is. Instead of using it on the main exit, I take a left at the end of the hall, leaving the screams and sirens behind and heading in the direction of the kitchens. With the key card, exiting the prison is a lot easier than I imagined—although, I’m sure it had something to do with the commotion I caused with the prisoners.

My hands shake as I push against the last door to the outside world, a new wave of relief filling my veins as I take back what was stolen from me eight long years ago. I step into the dusk, spreading my arms wide and marveling at the way the breeze kisses my skin. There’s a zest of cypress in the air, a faint chirping of birds as they bid adieu to the day with their joyous song.

As I look up at the purple sky, clear of the iron bars that usually impair my sight, it becomes abundantly clear.

I’m free.

My fingers find the set of car keys in my pocket, a smile breaking my face for the first time in eight years as another truth becomes clear.

I’m going to get a fucking drink.

2

SERAPHINA

“BITEME MCGEE”

If there’s one thing I need before fucking Ivan and his friends, it’s a drink.

I pull my motorcycle in one of the spots near the exit of the Drunken Hound, dismounting and pulling my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders as the Moriton night air nips at my skin. The heels of my boots clunk heavily against the rotting steps, causing several club members to look my way. I ignore the hungry gazes and offer smiles to those I recognize as I make my way up to the bar, my eyes scanning the sparse metal stools for a place to take away some of the agony throbbing in the balls of my feet.

Unfortunately, the only available seat is next to a man dressed in a correctional officer’s uniform. And while I’m sure it won’t be a problem, I’m weirdly paranoid tonight. Probably something to do with the client I’m about to see.

Fuck you, anxiety. I need that drink.

I sidle up to the bar and casually slide onto the seat, moving my hips side to side as I try to find a comfy position while I wait for the bartender to come over. Axel is currently at the opposite end, the dimple in his cheek popping as he serves his very best smolder to the blond girl he’s leaning in toward. She’s so goddamn far out of his league, I can’t help but chuckle at his tenacity. She wrinkles her perfect nose at whatever he said, then pockets the two-dollar tip she was about to hand him. His mouth pops with indignation, and the girl smirks, mouthing words that look a whole lot like I think I deserve compensation for wasting the past thirty seconds of my life.

A small laugh bursts from my mouth, causing the officer to jerk his gaze toward me for the briefest moment. I quickly seal my lips, thanking the stars as Axel trudges toward me, and the officer returns his attention to his beverage.

“Hey, babe. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” He slings a towel over his shoulder with a bright smile like he didn’t just have his balls metaphorically kicked in. His baby blue aura flickers slightly as he takes in my expression, the smile on his face dropping. “Whoa. You okay?”

I nod, twisting my hands tightly together as I give him a bright smile. “Peachy.”

He gives me a dubious stare, but pushes the issue no further. “The usual?”

“Please,” I murmur, shifting in my seat as I sense the weight of the officer’s stare of my profile. “Except make it a double.”

Axel nods, moving to the back and grabbing the cheapest whiskey in the spot to make my drink. The officer on my right flicks his eyes toward me, and I clutch my jacket tighter over my chest, willing Axel to reappear so I have something else to focus on.

My gaze finds the TV in the corner of the room, disappointed to find the news playing. I’d much rather watch some hot muscular men chase each other around and play with balls than listen to all the depressing shit going on in this city.

I listen to the attractive female newscaster prattle off the latest horrors befalling the city of Moriton. Homelessness at an all-time high, teens getting addicted to X, people kicking puppies—the usual. But then she says something else—something that catches my interest.

This afternoon, the serial killer known as “The Reaper” escaped a max security prison in what police are calling “the worst prison break in Moriton history.” Police are still looking into the incident and trying to discover how it was possible for The Reaper to pull off the heist.

Several other escaped prisoners were apprehended a mile outside of the gates, but when they were questioned, none seemed to be involved with or know anything about the deadly man who caused the break. When asked for a statement, Police Chief Ace Jennings had this to say:

“He is a dangerous, violent, sociopathic criminal. He will kill without thought and without remorse—man, woman, or child. If you see him or have any insight as to where he might be, do not take the law into your own hands. Do not try to apprehend him, speak to him, or even draw his attention to your person. We repeat, he is dangerous, and if anyone has information as to his whereabouts, they should contact the Moriton Police Department immediately.”

“Awful what the world has come to, isn’t it?”

I jerk at the low timbre of the officer’s voice, fighting the urge to look his way even as I feel his stare piercing my profile.

“Sure is,” I murmur, twisting my fingers in my lap.

Axel returns, sliding my drink in front of me. The officer gives him a nod, and Axel disappears for half a minute before returning with two shots of clear liquid. He places one in front of me, then scuttles off without another word, leaving me with a frown and a shot I never asked for.

“You’re welcome,” the officer says, his eyes digging into my profile hungrily as he tries to gain my attention.

“I didn’t ask for it.” I eye the shot with a scowl.

I know I’m toeing the line of bitchiness, but I don’t like how comfortable this man seems around me. I drag my eyes to him with every intention of telling him to fuck off, but my words die in my throat as his aura bursts from his outline. I can’t quite place the color of the dark hue throbbing in the dim bar light—all I know is it’s beautiful. Beautiful and dangerous.

When I’m finally able to drag my eyes away from the color bursting from his pores, I start to notice other features. Thick, unruly hair frames an angular face, the deep obsidian color drawing out eyes the hue of a cloudless summer sky. He has two-day stubble framing a jaw cut from stone, just short enough so the dimples in his cheeks are visible with his smirk.

My stomach clenches with something like desire as I run my eyes over the broad shoulders practically bursting from his uniform. I’m about to comment on it but think better of it and grab the shot he bought me instead. I take a whiff of the mystery liquid and nearly gag as the scent of expensive tequila singes my nose hairs.

I fucking hate tequila.

“How are you doing on this unexceptional night?” he asks, watching as I tap the shot glass against the counter before raising it to my lips.

“American dreamin’.” I swallow the venom with a grimace. “Can’t get no rest. How are you, hot lips?”

The man gives me an expression like I just slapped him, but he recovers in the next moment, schooling his features scarily well.

“Better now.” He smirks as I roll my eyes, replacing it with a questioning stare as I snatch his shot and take it back quicker than the first. “You okay?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?” I reach for my original beverage and take a swig. “Is there something wrong with my face?” I ask, turning to him while puffing my cheeks out and going cross-eyed.

A laugh bursts from the man’s perfect lips.

Well, that’s not the usual response…

“It’s the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen.” He leans in and places a hand on my thigh that sends lightning skittering across my skin.

I turn my head to hide my blush, scrunching my nose but leaving his hand there. “How embarrassing for you.”

He tilts his head. “How is that embarrassing?”

“If I’m the most beautiful face you’ve seen, then you’ve clearly not seen very many faces,” I say, carving out the jagged scar that runs at an angle from my forehead to the corner of my mouth. “Have you been living in a hole or something?”

He reaches up, snatching my hand from my face before I have time to react. His thumb runs across the back of my hand, causing heated sparks to dance across my skin.

“I’ve been in maximum prison for the past eight years—so yeah, pretty much the same thing.”

My heart thuds, and I scowl as I rip my hand from his grip. “Uh-huh. Is your orange jumpsuit at the laundromat?” I eye his police officer’s uniform dubiously. What an asshole. Was that supposed to be an attempt at a joke?

“It was actually black-and-white-striped—but no. The man I killed for this uniform is wearing my jumpsuit.” He grins, leaning into my personal bubble. I jerk back, my mouth pinching in irritation as I realize he really was just fucking with me.

I give him a blank stare, reaching out and pressing my finger into the name tag on his uniform. “Officer… Jameson? Like the whiskey? Dear God, please tell me you bought this at a costume store,” I mumble the last part, but it doesn’t stop Officer Whiskey from chuckling.

“I’ll stick to my story from earlier.” He grins, gripping my hand again and pressing a kiss to my forefinger. I rip it away, cradling it to my chest as if he just did me a great offense—though I have a horrible suspicion my expression says the opposite.

“Are you trying to get in my pants, Officer Bourbon? Because you’re doing a horrible job of it.”

“Really? And here I was, thinking you were just about to accept my proposal.”

“Think again, Bottom Shelf.” I narrow my eyes, tossing my pale hair over my shoulder. “I’m a rye-and-dine type of gal. And you’ve failed to fulfill either of those obligations.” I gesture to the empty shot glass of tequila. “So I think I’ll go back to ignoring you, finish my delicious drink, and take my leave. Unless you have a more promising proposal for me?”

“Go out with me.” A demand, not a question.

“I’d much rather stick a sea cucumber up my pussy. But thanks for the offer.” I turn and proceed to ignore him again.

“Oh come on. It’ll be fun,” he says, grinning flirtatiously.

“Do you know what a sea cucumber is? The answer is clearly no.”

He laughs. “What? Afraid I couldn’t afford you?”

While I’m sure it’s another of his stupid “jokes,” fear clenches my chest at the notion he somehow knows what I do for a living. The thing he could use to imprison me—or worse, exploit me.

“Who told you?” I demand, resisting the urge to reach for the dagger nestled in the side of my book and ram it through his eye socket.

“Told me what?” His deep voice is free of the teasing lilt from a moment ago. “I’m… sorry if I offended you in some way? You’re right—sea cucumbers are fucking disgusting abominations against God and man. I would hate for one to go anywhere near your precious pussy.”

I search his gaze, then turn with a huff, brushing my sweaty palms over my fitted black bodysuit. “Just… stop bothering me. Okay?” I take a sip of my drink, intent on forgetting the disgustingly handsome officer next to me exists.

“What’s your name?” he asks, clearly not ready to give up.

I roll my eyes. “Brandy.”

“No.” His brows furrow. “I mean your real name.”

I turn to him with a scowl. “What makes you think Brandy isn’t my name?”

“For starters?” He sits back, making a show of dragging his eyes down my scantily clad frame. “You just told me you’re a whiskey girl.”

I roll my eyes again but make no comment, and he grins like he thinks he’s figured me out.

“So… what is your real name?”

“Biteme McGee.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Seriously?”

My pale lashes flutter sweetly. “It’s a family name. Middle school was a bitch.”

He throws his head back in a laugh that exposes his Adam’s apple, and I lick my lips as the urge to run my tongue across his throat overwhelms me.

“I can see why,” he finally says, running his eyes over me in the same hungry way as earlier. “Such an ugly name wasted on a pretty face.”

I should say something to shut him up, but…

Dammit. It should be illegal to be that hot.

“Anyway… what's your name?” I ask, dragging my eyes from his perfect plump lips and fixing my face in a bored expression.

“Orion Adair.” He smirks. “Fastest hands in the West.”

I’m about to make some crack about it not being wise to give your full name to strangers—or maybe about his outdated Western reference—when something weird occurs to me. “I thought your last name was Jameson?”

“I told you—Jameson was the name of the man I killed to get this uniform.”

I take the opportunity to look at him—really look—and what I see lurking beneath his teasing smile disturbs me.

“I should get going,” I murmur, reaching for my purse to pay for my drink.

“Don’t bother.” He rests his hand atop mine, and my skin jumps. I look up, hitting him with a bright—albeit somewhat feral—smile.

“Thank you… Orion.”

“My pleasure,” he murmurs, watching me intently as I slide out of my seat.

“Oh, Brandy?”

“Yeah?” I nearly losing my balance with the force I whip around to face him.

“Be careful out there.” He tips his drink toward the TV screen with that eerie smile still pulling at his mouth. “It seems there’s a psycho running amok.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words get caught in my throat. With a disgruntled huff, I turn on my heels and hasten out of the bar, casting all thoughts of the handsome, disconcerting officer aside.

After all, it’s best not to keep Ivan waiting.

3

ORION

“LOOK BOTH WAYS BEFORE CROSSING THE STREET”

I stare at the door the golden-eyed girl swept through a minute ago, willing her to rematerialize.

I just met an angel. A ball-busting, heart pulverizing, venomous viper of an angel.

I think I’m in love.

“Want another?”

I drag my gaze toward the sandy-haired bartender across me, the smile immediately dropping from my face. “No thanks. I have somewhere to be.”

“Uh-huh.” The bartender narrows his eyes as he snatches the fifty I place on the counter. “I don’t have change for this.”

“Keep it,” I murmur, snatching “Brandy’s” shot glass from the counter, admiring the bright red lip stains before shoving it into my pocket. “Have the night you deserve.”

“Yeah… you too.” His eyes follow me all the way out of the bar. I’m sure he’s wondering what the hell I’m going to do with the shot glass, but experience tells me the situation will be wiped from his brain the next time he witnesses something weird in the bar. Which should be in about a minute.

Just as the thought enters my mind, the bar doors bang open behind me, and two heavyset, tattooed men stumble outside in the midst of a fistfight. The dark-haired one is bellowing something incoherently, a small pocket knife sticking out of his left eye and dribbling tears of blood onto his beer-stained tee shirt. The blond one closest to the road is also shrieking, though his yowls seem to be due to the missing thumb on his right hand. Blood is pouring from the mangled stump onto the yellowed grass as the man screams profanities at the other, clenching his good hand into a fist and charging forward.

Before he makes it two steps, the clearly intoxicated man pitches to the side, and the dark-haired one uses the opportunity to rush forward, placing his palms on the blond’s chest and pushing him back into the road. Thumbless stumbles from the force, his heel catching on a stray piece of gravel that sends him to the ground. The back of his skull smacks against the pavement, causing a sickening pop to fill the air. He’s either too drunk to feel the pain or so angry at losing his thumb that he rolls to his side, ignoring the blood gushing from his ears as he wobbles to a stand. He lets out a war cry, raising that hand in the air before taking a step toward the dark-haired enemy again.

And that’s when the truck barrels into him.

Screams fill the air as blood and parts of what used to be a thumbless blond man splatter onto nearby patrons and coat the windows of the Drunken Hound. Several people rush forward to the remains of the man—including the dark-haired man and the bartender from earlier—but I know nothing can be done. He’s roadkill now.

Ash to ash.

Salt to salt.

Carbon to carbon.

My eyes follow the red taillights of the truck now several miles down the road, my mind focusing solely on the driver who lacked the decency to stop. It makes me sicker to my stomach than the sight of the bloody mess of organs and flesh lying on the road behind me. At least death is final. The neglect for human life that plagues this city… it’s never-ending. All-encompassing.

Disgusting.

I spit, taking off down the street with my hands deep in my pockets, ignoring the wails and cries of the nameless faces behind me. They don’t matter. Nothing matters.

I walk down the street for a long while, aimlessly turning down alleyways and taking in the sights of the city. So little has changed since I last saw the streets of Moriton. So much grime and despair lingers in the air. It swirls with the breeze and pours into your lungs, where it takes root and slowly rots you from the inside out.

My heart is black. My insides are infested with asbestos. My brain is squirming with maggots. And it's this damn city’s fault.

Nothing changes.

As I walk the street that leads toward the Moriton Forest Preserve, I can’t help but let my mind wander back to the ghostly girl I met in the bar. That was something new at least. Something refreshing in all this grimy, miserable darkness.

The fluttering of wings draws my attention to the skies and my eyes snag on a singular black bird. Nothing more than an ink splatter against the red and purple sunset, the crow opens its shiny beak wide, calling its indiscretions to the heavens. It doesn’t realize that nobody's listening. Nobody cares.

They haven’t for quite some time.

I force my eyes from the sky and continue my journey along the cracked sidewalk. Occasionally, a homeless person or X-addled prostitute calls out, calling me a pig, but I ignore it. After all, they’re not mad at me. They’re angry at the injustice that’s been done to them by this city. By the officers that are supposed to protect it.

And I can fucking second that notion.

My eyes snag on a payphone, and I find myself walking toward it, an urge to hear a familiar voice. I step up to the payphone, dragging my fingers lightly across the keys. Wondering if I should make the call. With a growl, I shove my hand into my pocket, praying the guard kept some change on him so I can—bingo.

I stuff the quarter into the machine and dial the number etched into the walls of my skull. It rings once before the line clicks through, and I’m greeted with the sound of heavy breathing.

I open my mouth to speak, find it too dry, and wet my lips before trying again. What do I even say after all this time? After everything that happened?

Thankfully, I don’t have to make that decision. Because a moment later, he finally decides to speak.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A grin creeps onto my face at the sound of his voice. A voice I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed until this moment.

“Hey, Ghost,” I choke. “How’s Brett?”

He’s silent for a long while. “Why don’t you come over and ask her yourself?”

The line goes dead, and I pull the phone from my ear, a stupid grin eating at my face.

“Maybe I will.”

4

SERAPHINA

“PASS THE LUBE, PLEASE”

I sidle through the doors of the Neon Flamingo, waving a quick hello to Joe the Bouncer before heading to the back of the club where Ivan will be waiting for me. The bass pounds in time with each click of my stilettos against the shiny dance floor, and I have to squint my eyes against the strobing neon lights as a migraine builds at the base of my skull.

Brave face, Seraphina. Slap that bitch on.

Pulling my shoulders back, I plaster a large smile on my made-up face and saunter to the booth in the back, catching Ivan’s chocolate gaze immediately. A deep red aura bursts from his shoulders as he shoots up from his seat, sloshing dark amber liquid all over his friend’s chest with the force of the motion.

“Dollface!” he cheers, ignoring his friend’s disgruntled look as he shoves his now empty glass into his chest. The blond stranger reluctantly grabs the glass, and Ivan races over to me, his leather crocodile boots slapping the ground comically.

I blink, and he’s in front of me, clasping his ring-laden hands on my shoulders with a manic smile. “I was just about to call you! I could hardly wait to see my little doll.” Ivan reaches out and runs a hand lovingly down my pin-straight hair. “No ringlets today? I was so fond of them…”

I fight my cringe and plaster a simpering smile on my face. “My curling iron broke.”

“Hmm.” He tugs on one of the silky strands as he looks deep into my eyes. “You should have told me. I would have gladly bought you another.”

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” I say, fighting every instinct in me screaming to back away.

“Hmm.” Ivan finally blinks, his eyes moving in a reptilian way as he scours the rest of my face. The vein in the center of his forehead pulses as he takes in the thick layer of foundation I applied earlier, and something like a snarl works its way from his parted lips.

“Why is your scar covered, my little doll?” He tilts his head as his aura deepens to a color close to black. “Why would… why would you do something like that?”

I take a shaking breath, focusing on keeping my heart from exploding from my chest. “I’m sorry… I was running errands today and didn’t have time to take off my makeup.”

It's a bold-faced lie. I don’t like Ivan’s obsession with my scar, so I purposely covered it tonight in anticipation. The way he looks at it has always given me a case of the heebie-jeebies—and that’s probably because of what I know lurks beneath that charismatic smile.

Ivan is a collector. A collector of anomalies—priceless little oddities that have no place in this world. I don’t know when the obsession started, only that as long as I’ve known him, Ivan has had a constant rotation of scarred, maimed, or just plain unusual-looking men and women warming his bed.

People are often uncomfortable with that which is not known to them, he would say. But I am different. When I look upon a marvelous sunset, I only see the dying of another day. When I pass a blooming flower on the street, I can’t help but think of the decaying mess it will be in a week. But with you, Seraphina… I see so much more. I see a thousand human stories—never-ending, tragic, tear-filled stories—just waiting to be discovered.

“No. No, no, no,” Ivan breathes, his body shuddering with repulsion as he takes a step back, casting his eyes from my face. “You need to take it off immediately.”

“But, sir⁠—”

“Now, Seraphina!” he screams, chest heaving. “You are my doll! I will not tolerate your face being covered!” Past his shoulder, Ivan’s four friends are trying their best not to stare and losing the fight. And not a single one of them looks like they’d take my side. Hell, I doubt they’d blink if he chopped me up and threw me in the ocean.

With that thought, I scurry off to the bathroom, cursing myself for putting on the stupid makeup in the first place. I knew it would make him furious, and I still did it. Why? Why can’t I just make things easier for myself?

A sigh leaves my body as I grab a makeup wipe from my purse and remove the heavy layer of foundation to uncover my jagged scar beneath. I stand in front of the mirror for a minute, tracing my finger through the deep groove in my face, wishing my life had turned out differently. Wishing I had a little more of myself left.

A violent pounding on the door tears me from my thoughts. I take one last glance at those sad eyes in the mirror and hasten to unlock the door, my tongue heavy and throbbing with my racing pulse. The tang of iron and sulfur assaults my senses as I tug open the door, and I’m unsurprised to find Ivan standing on the other side.

He leans forward with a scowl, reaching up and tracing the line of my scar like I had done a moment ago. “This is much better. Now you really look like the perfect broken doll.” The scowl lifts from his face with the last of his words, making way for a manic smile that has my stomach clenching uncomfortably. “I brought the lube you like.”

“Oh… that's great.” My eyes dart over his shoulder to the pulsing dance floor beyond. I catch the gaze of the square-headed blond from earlier. Only this time, his blue eyes are filled with sympathy. A sentiment I don’t want. Don’t need.

“Come.” Ivan holds a ringed hand out for me to take. It envelops mine as he leads me back toward his table, the gold rings pressing uncomfortably against my skin with the strength of his grip.

A waft of stale liquor smacks me in the face as I plop next to Ivan in the booth, and I have to hold my breath as I fight against the wave of nausea it brings. Cursed tequila.

“Drink this.” Ivan thrusts a glass of amber liquid into my palms. I nod my thanks, taking the dose of Hennessy back like I have for the past year I’ve been meeting Ivan at this club. Always the same bottle of amber liquid, always a different group of “friends.”

The pounding bass fades away as the diluted X spreads through my bloodstream, filling my head with the beautiful nothingness I’ve been craving all month. My times with Ivan are the only instances I allow myself to partake in the drug anymore. But every time we meet, and he hands me his special reserve, it’s like an embrace from a long-lost friend. Comfortable. Warm. Always warm.

“Feel better?” Ivan’s hand slides up my thigh as a genuine smile lights my face for the first time all night.

I nod, and his smile mirrors mine.

“Good,” he whispers, his hand trailing higher, higher, higher. He stops at the apex of my thighs, his middle finger teasing my sex as his smile turns devilish. “I have so many plans for you tonight, my little doll.”

My breath hitches as the room swims in and out of focus, the blinding lights making it hard to keep my eyes open for long. “Whatever you want, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He brushes his lips lightly against my jaw. His hand cups the back of my neck, pushing my mouth down to his crotch in a silent demand. I sense the eyes of his four friends as I swiftly undo Ivan’s belt, pulling out his long skinny cock without so much as a blink.

Ivan throws his head back, a moan warring against the pounding bass as I wrap my lips around his cock. I drag my tongue across his tip, licking up his pre-cum and taking him to the back of my throat. The square-headed blond from earlier must feel emboldened by the sight because not even a moment later, his meaty palms are covering my ass.

He drags one hand up my spine, laying it over the back of my neck and pushing me down Ivan's cock, a throaty groan mingling with Ivan’s cries of bliss.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot,” Blondie groans, moving the hand on my ass closer to my pussy, his fingertips reaching—teasing. “You weren’t wrong, Ivan. She’s a freak.”

A chuckle tumbles from Ivan’s mouth, only to be replaced with a powerful groan as he spills his hot cum down my throat. My eyes water as I gulp down every last drop, even going so far as to lick all my spit from his length when he’s done.

I gaze at Ivan through heavy-lidded eyes, licking the last of his salty release from the corner of my lip. He gazes down in adoration, hauling me up by the chin and planting his lips square against mine. It takes everything in me not to pull away.

“Ready to meet the rest of my friends?” Ivan asks, his pupils blown as he gestures to the four men looking on with hungry eyes. Greedy eyes.

“Of course, sir.” I stand on shaking legs, reminding myself to breathe as the room spins violently. The light, the pounding, the nameless drunken faces swimming all around—it’s too much.

Ivan places a hand on my lower back, dragging me back to earth and leading me toward the red hallway at the back of the club. Security nods, expressionless save for the slight twinkle in his greedy eyes, and all six of us pass through to the gold-hewn door at the end of the hall.

As soon as Ivan unlocks the door, I’m pushed through the threshold and onto the mattress at the center of the room. I kneel on the crimson sheets, about to remove my jumper when a set of meaty hands reaches out, pulling it down my body before I have the chance.

I open my mouth in indignation, only to have a cock shoved past my lips. My eyes widen, and I look up to see Ivan’s second friend—this one with shocking blue eyes and a head of ginger hair. He places a freckled hand on the back of my head, pushing his cock to the back of my throat as Blondie paws at my breasts, twisting my nipples and bringing tears to my eyes.

The ginger groans, throwing his head back as my lips hit the base of his pelvis. I take small breaths through my nose as he holds me there, barely aware of Blondie pulling my bodysuit the rest of the way off, exposing me to the room.

The head of Blondie’s cock presses against my entrance, only for him to be shoved away a moment later, sending a shiver down my spine as the cold air smacks my exposed sex.

“Don’t be so fucking greedy, Jake.” The third friend unzips his pants and presses his own cock against my pussy. “You’ve already got to touch her.”

Blondie—Jake—grumbles something vulgar under his breath, then says, “Fuck you, Noah. We can share.”

“Would you both shut the fuck up!” The Ginger thrusts violently in and out of my mouth. “I don’t know how, but you’re ruining this. Just pick her up and fuck her at the same time.”

“See, Oliver gets it,” Jake says, placing a hand on my lower back. “Sharing is caring.”

Noah curses, pulling his cock away just as Oliver convulses, his cock spewing thick ropes of cum down my throat. I place my hands against his hips, pushing against him as my air is cut off, but he just holds me there like Ivan, making sure I get every last drop.

As soon as his softening cock leaves my mouth, I’m yanked by my waist to the end of the bed. Noah spins me around, sliding his hands under my arms and hauling me tight against his chest, chestnut eyes glimmering beneath a thick mop of unruly brown hair.

I only have a moment to admire his appearance before he’s positioning his cock at my entrance. I wrap my legs around his waist, a breathy moan falling from my lips as Jake presses his cock against my asshole.

They pull me down, both cocks filling me to the hilt. A choked gasp leaves my mouth as they start moving in tandem, their lengths rubbing my walls brilliantly, dragging me screaming to the edge of bliss. Noah snakes an arm around my waist, holding me tight as he reaches down with the other, his fingertips reaching for my clit.

His fingertips swirl that swollen nub, and I’m a goner. A scream falls from my lips as I go weightless in Noah's arm, the sensation too much to bear. My body is thrumming, bursting with electricity from every pore, and it’s only drawn out by the men’s incessant thrusting.

Noah and Jake follow me soon after, pouring their release into me, filling both my holes with deep, pleasure-filled groans.

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moans, gently pumping his softening cock. “You’re so damn tight.”

“She really is,” Noah chokes, the vein at the side of his neck bulging as he stills with the last of his release. “Fuck, this pussy is perfect.”

“I’m glad you got her warmed up for me,” a fourth unfamiliar voice speaks out. “If it’s as good as you say, it’ll be twice as nice now that she’s come.”

A whimper tumbles from my lips as I’m placed on the bed, my body spent yet rejoicing in the idea of being filled once more. Now that the drink from earlier has set in, all I want is to feel that high of coming. Of falling over the edge, being lost to oblivion. To pleasure.

A man with dark hair and dark eyes steps to the foot of the bed, his smile menacing as he slides a hand up my leg, cupping my throbbing sex.

“Mmm.” He licks his lips. “You’re finally ready for me, pet.”

My eyes widen as he reaches over to the bedside table, fisting a full bottle of tequila. “Get on all fours. Now.”

Swallowing hard, I do as he says, my sex throbbing as the cold air assaults me once again.

“Pass the lube, please.” His tone is a demand despite the politeness in his voice. There’s a squelch, and the dark-haired man's hands are on me, his thumb swirling around the entrance of my asshole, coating it in the cool lubricant.

He uncorks the bottle, a manic laugh filling the air as he removes his thumb from my ass. Without a word of warning, he presses the lip of the bottle against my puckered hole, pushing the tip past the tight muscle so not a drop of alcohol is wasted.

A hiss leaves my lips as a gentle burning sensation thrums from within, but I barely feel it—too focused on the sensation of the man pushing the neck deeper and deeper inside me.

“Fuck, that’s hot, Eli,” Ivan groans, the sound of his slapping cock filling the room as he gets off to the sight. “Don’t stop.”

“That’s good,” the man—Eli—groans, stopping when the shoulder of the bottle hits my ass cheeks. “You took that so fucking well, pet.” He swirls the base of the bottle slightly, causing tears to stream down my cheeks as more of the liquid flows into me. “Gonna get you nice and drunk while I fuck your pussy.”

He grips my hips, pulling me clear off the bed so my head almost smacks into the baseboard. Blood rushes to my head as I hang upside down with nothing but the sight of Eli’s kneecaps to ground me as the room spirals out of control.

“Fuck, someone get her head!” he demands, making sure to keep the bottle upright as he positions the head of his cock against my dripping entrance. At the same time, Jake steps over to my head, pulling me up by the shoulders and holding me in place while Eli thrusts inside me.

He fucks me like a man possessed, each violent pound of his cock causing more and more poison to pour into me, drawn in by gravity and the angle with which he’s fucking me. Before long, my sight is completely blurred, and I don’t know which way is up. I have to mentally focus on breathing. The pleasure, the drugs, and the sensations are all too much for me to bear.

Eli thrusts into me once more, holding his hips against me as he finds his release. While he’s coming, Ivan crouches beneath us, raising his lips to my clit and applying a powerful suction. And I follow Eli into oblivion.

I scream as my orgasm tears through me, sparks flying behind my eyes as Ivan drags his teeth against the bundle of nerves. Eli groans as my walls convulse around him, drawing out his pleasure and causing him to start thrusting anew.

When his softening cock finally slips out, Ivan presses his mouth to my sex, gorging himself on the juices flowing from my pussy. He laps me clean, pulling back with hooded eyes and a smile filled with euphoria.

“You taste marvelous, doll.” Ivan takes his glistening lip between his teeth. “Always so much better when it’s mixed with other men’s cum.”

Ivan gently pulls the bottle from my ass, and I squeeze my eyes against the uncomfortable sensation. He tosses it onto the floor, causing the remainder of the liquid to flood into the carpet. It was mostly full, but the amount that made its way into me still has the room spinning.

Ivan cups my cheek, and I try to smile but find I don’t have the energy. Sensing this, he pulls me into his arms. He carries me to the bed, depositing my limp form gently beneath the crimson sheets. After placing a kiss on the center of my chest, Ivan turns to the four men with a severe expression.

“Time to go.”

There’s not so much as a sound of dispute, just the mumble of thanks and the rustle of clothes being pulled back on.

Once the door closes, Ivan climbs into bed with me, his bright smile blurred as the toxins course through my veins. He pulls me onto his chest, his fingers lightly running across my shoulder before sliding down my side to my hip. He makes endless little circles in the space where the bone dips into the flesh of my ass, his eyes fixed on that very spot.

“I love this little tattoo.” Despite his words, a frown creases the space between his brows. “Won’t you tell me what it means?”

It’s my turn to frown. I shift upward like I mean to press my lips to his cheek, but in actuality, I’m moving his fingers from that part of my body. “You already know what it means.”

“You like birds? No, Seraphina. You are much too complex for so simple an answer.”

“Not everything I do has to be for a reason, Ivan.”

“No. But it is.” He pierces me with an intense gaze, and I have to look away, my own fingers unwittingly trailing to the little bird tattoo. Most people who see it mistake it for a dove or some other small bird. When I tell them it’s a shrike, all are confused. They want to know what it means, what it symbolizes to me.

But the truth is, I don’t even know myself—one of those things that have been lost to time, to the dark corners of my memory. The only thing I know is it’s special to me. That it meant something to someone at some point.

“What are you thinking about, precious? Where have you gone?”

I relax into his chest, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a comforting nothingness. “I’m here,” I say. “And nothing of importance.”

“Hmm.” He twirls his finger absentmindedly through a string of white hair. “Always so secretive.”

My throat constricts, and I look at the clock on the wall, noting how late it’s become. “I should get going…”

I move to push off Ivan’s chest, but he holds me down, pushing his face into my hair and taking a deep inhale.

“You could stay here with me, you know,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair like each strand is made of glass. “The world out there is cruel. Dark. You should be somewhere safe. Be with someone who can give you the light you crave.”

A low laugh puffs from my lips without my meaning to. I pat Ivan’s chest, shifting as far as he’ll let me as he devolves into whispers of his many ideas and epiphanies. Ivan could go on and on about his views on the world—and he often does. In truth, it’s my least favorite aspect of our encounters. Sitting here listening to a madman’s ramblings for hours always leaves me a little more unhinged than when I started the day. And I’m already two nuts loose of a bolt as it is.

“I really think I should get going.” I attempt to free myself for a second time from his hold. His arms are like a vice around my shoulders, but after a few more tries, he finally allows me to get up from the bed.

I feel his eyes following me as I step toward the door, where someone has neatly folded my dress and lingerie. His disappointment fills the air with a rancid stench as I pull the straps over my shoulders, and I worry for a moment that this will be the time he decides not to let me leave.

Ivan likes his dolls to choose to stay, I remind myself. There’s no way he’d keep me here against my will. It goes against everything that gets him off. But when I take in the hungry sheen in his smile, my heart stutters in fear. Maybe… maybe he’d reconsider for the right “doll.”

“Will you let my driver take you home? I hate for you to be out alone at night.” His eyes are molten in the glow of the bedside lantern. “I can’t bear the thought of my best toy being injured by another's hand.”

Though my head is still swimming, I manage to pull my clothes on without too much trouble. Ivan pouts from the bed, but I hardly give him another look as I wobble toward the exit.

As soon as I step out of the club, I tilt my head back, closing my eyes against the glowing stars as the night air whips against my skin. Before I know what’s happening, I’m walking down the sidewalk. Except I’m not heading in the direction of civilization or my apartment, where my roommate waits for me.

I’m heading to the forest.

5

ORION

“SASS MONSTER”

It’s nearing twilight by the time I make it to Ghost’s house—though, lair is probably a better word to describe the underground fortress built into the northern cliffs of Moriton. I walk over to the stone hatch nearly hidden by the fallen leaves and debris littering the small clearing and crouch down, my fingertips trailing along the cool slab as my mind races.

This is a bad idea. They’re finally happy—you shouldn’t involve them in your mess.

But even as the thought passes, I find myself pressing my wrist into the small divot into the stone, listening for the telltale click that will signal whether my key still opens Ghost’s door.

Nothing.

I straighten as a heavy sigh brushes my lips, my eyes drawn to the gray skies above and snagging on a singular black crow dotting the heavens. I frown, longing to reach out and experience that sense of freedom. Of wonder. But I’m just a man—stuck here on the ground.

The stone hatch suddenly scrapes open, drawing my attention to the earth. My brows hit my hairline as I look into the dark stairwell that leads to Ghost’s lair, the shadows thick and foreboding with the terrors beneath. With a shrug, I enter the hatch and take the stairs down, the scent of damp growing stronger the farther I descend into the cliffs.

Several flights later, I enter the large circular living space, squinting my eyes against the harsh light blinking from the iron sconces situated throughout the room. A haunting melody makes its way to my ears, and I jerk my gaze toward the grand piano sitting in the center of the room. My mouth pops slightly as I take in the little girl perched on the bench like a tiny black-haired bird, her fingers moving across the keys with a skill far surpassing her age.

There’s a little black ball of fluff sitting next to her on the bench, his tiny legs curled beneath him as he slumbers. Feline eyes slide open, and Brett’s cat Venom pierces me with a judging stare as he pins his ears back. Ghost’s Great Pyrenese, Rupert, lies at the girl's feet. He picks his head up for a brief moment, huffs at my intrusion, and lies back down to continue listening to the serenade.

The girl must feel my gaze on her because a moment later the sound comes to an abrupt halt. There’s a soft squeak as she turns in her seat to face me, and I’m immediately taken aback by the strange swirling purple of her irises. Ghost’s eyes. So this must be…

“I’ve been waiting up for hours.” There’s a hint of irritation in her high-pitched voice. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry… ” I murmur, not quite sure why I feel the need to apologize to this girl I’ve never met. “I had to walk here on foot.”

“How else would you walk here? On a pair of stilts?” She rolls her eyes—the motion reminding me so much of her mother for a moment that I have to do a double take.

“I’m assuming you’re… Brett and Ghost’s kid?”

Another eye roll. “Nooo. I totally broke in and have been living here under their noses. What do you think?”

Damn, okay sass monster. “Are they… home?”

She nods, letting out a heavy sigh like my presence bores her. “Yup.”

“Can I see them?”

“Not unless you want to come across a sight that’s been burned into my nightmares for the past month.” She shudders dramatically. “They’ve been in their bedroom for the past hour… so you’ve still got a while to wait.”

I blink, not quite sure what to make of the tiny yet ferocious girl. “How old are you?”

She scrunches her nose. “Don’t you know never to ask a lady her age? I know you’ve been in the hole for the past eight years, but dang.”

The hole? “I’m… guessing your dad has told you where I’ve been then.” I rub the back of my neck as a wave of embarrassment pours over me.

“Nope,” she says, popping her p as she jumps off the piano seat and trots over to me. She jerks her chin way up in the air to get a good look at me, those swirling violet irises filled with skepticism. “I found out myself.”

“Oh.” I fight against the urge to take a step back, wondering how it’s possible for this tiny girl to make me feel like a cockroach under her microscope. I’m not sure what possesses me to explain myself to her, but something in me is screaming for her approval. For her to see me as something other than a monster. “I’m… it’s not true, you know. What they said about me.”

She narrows her eyes. “I know. Why do you think I let you inside?”

“Because… your dad told you to?”

She scoffs like my words offend her. “I’m not some brainless kid. I can think for myself. If I thought you were a threat, I would have left you out there for the tigers to feast on.”

I have to laugh at that. “Tigers? Don’t you mean wolves?”

She shakes her head, her eyes deadly serious. “No. I mean tigers. I hear them hunting at night.”

Uh-huh. And I’m a flying spaghetti monster. “There are no tigers in Moriton. The closest zoo is three hundred miles away.” And now I’m arguing with a kid. Fantastic.

She looks at me like she’s thinking the same thing. “Whatever you say, man. Just don’t come crying to me when one of ’em bites your face off.”

I open my mouth to retort when a small scuffle draws my attention to the opposite side of the room. I tear my gaze from the little girl, and my heart stops as I take in a face I haven’t seen in eight long, lonely years.

Brett Evangeline looks practically the same—her hair is still long and dark as pitch, her shoulders held back and proud with those dazzling emerald eyes shining bright. Truly, the only difference is the deepened smile lines around her mouth and eyes.

She looks healthy. She looks happy.

“Orion.” Her voice cracks slightly as tears well in her eyes. She races forward, pulling me into a sisterly embrace that has my throat closing with a powerful emotion. I missed this. I missed her.

“I thought you hated hugs.” I return the strength of her embrace twofold. She laughs hard against my shoulder, smacking me playfully before pulling back.

“You get a free pass this one time… Look how big you’ve gotten!” Her mouth pops as she sizes me up like I’m one of her kids. “I can’t believe this. You’re not my little buddy anymore.”

I shake my head with a deep chuckle. “I mean… I’ve never been ‘little’ if you know what I mean…” I waggle my brows at her, earning me another smack.

“Ew, Orion. Just ew.” Brett turns to her daughter. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“Please.” The girl rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “As if I don’t hear a thousand times worse on a daily basis.”

Brett flushes with the insinuation. “Anyway! Why don’t you head on to bed, Sloane. Orion and I have some catching up to do.”

Without a word, she gets up from her seat and walks out of the kitchen, Rupert and Venom hot at her heels. She’s about to turn down the hallway when Brett’s voice calls out, stopping her in her tracks.

“Sloane! Say good night to your uncle Orion!”

Sloane sighs heavily, turning her bored expression to me one last time. “If I was actually related to that moron, I’d fling myself from the cliffs. Good night.”

Her bare feet patter down the hallway, but only when I hear the slam of her bedroom door do I gather the courage to speak. “Your kid is mean as hell, Brett. Nice job.”

A soft laugh falls from her lips, and her eyes are filled with warmth as she looks at where Sloane used to be sitting. “She was actually really excited when she heard Ghost say you might be coming over. I’d sent her to bed hours ago, but I guess she wanted to stay up and be the first to meet you. It’s hard for her to show affection to strangers, though. She really takes after Ghost that way.”

“Right. And I shit gold bricks.”

She whips her arm out and smacks me hard on the shoulder, though the laugh that peels from her mouth tells me she's not actually upset. “Okay. Maybe she takes after me just a little.” She pinches her fingers together to demonstrate the minuscule amount, and I take it upon myself to widen those fingers to the correct distance.

“Ow! Orion, my fingers don’t bend that way!”

“I’m trying to show you how wrong you are.” I laugh, being careful not to apply too much force in case I do actually snap her fingers. Pretty sure Ghost would not appreciate that.

“Are you trying to break my wife’s fingers? In my own home?” a deep male voice booms out across the room, nothing but malice reverberating in his tone. In a flash, there's a silver blade pressing against my windpipe, the edge drawing pearls of blood to the surface of the delicate flesh. I bellow a laugh, the motion causing the blade to cut deeper, but I can’t be bothered to care.

The Ghost has arrived.

“Well, hellooo. Nice of you to join us.” I smirk, pressing forward into the blade to call his bluff. However, he holds the blade steady, and Brett lets out a horrified gasp as more blood pours down my neck and chest.

“Ghost! Stop that right now!”

“He was hurting you,” Ghost murmurs, his voice eerily monotone as he digs the blade closer toward my windpipe. “I don’t like when things hurt you.”

“Good Lord! He wasn’t actually hurting me.”

“Listen to your woman, Ghost. She knows best—ow!” I raise a hand to clutch my temple, now throbbing from where Ghost slammed the handle of his dagger. At least he dropped the blade, though. “This is the greeting I get after eight years? Harsh.”

“You brought it on yourself.” Ghost pockets his dagger and turns to Brett with a pained expression. “I’m sorry you had to see that, darling.”

“This is bullshit,” I grumble, ducking just in time to dodge the punch Ghost throws in retaliation. “What? I feel like if anyone in this room is owed an apology, it’s probably the guy who almost got his throat slit for no good reason. Just saying.”

Ghost narrows his eyes. “I may have… overreacted slightly.”

“Slightly? You and Brett need to get your measurements straight, I swear.”

At my words, Brett lets out a boisterous laugh, causing some of the murderous rage in Ghost’s eyes to die. Thank bejeesus for that.

He turns his gaze back to me, and the murder flares to life again. “Well? Explain yourself.”

I’m about to reply with something sarcastic when Brett smacks Ghost hard on the arm, though he doesn’t react in the slightest. “Ghost! We should let him get settled in first.”

“Ah, yes. Get me all nice and comfy with a false sense of security before you attempt to extract my secrets from me. I like the way you think, Brett.” I tap my noggin with a smirk. “Diabolical as ever.”

Brett rolls her eyes. “Fine. You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to mention one word of what happened eight years ago. You absolutely have no need to explain why you cut off all contact with your family for no reason or even why you refused each one of our twelve hundred attempted visits. Why you didn’t trust us enough to listen to your side of the story. To help you. And you certainly don’t have to explain why you broke our hearts.”

Shit. She’s gotten a lot better at the guilt trip since becoming a mom. “Brett… I’m sorry… it's not that I didn’t trust you. It’s that I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t want to get out of there. I wanted to be left alone to rot. To live out the only fate I deserved.”

“But why?” Her lower lip quivers as she looks upon the broken thing I’ve become. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Ghost suddenly raises his head, his violet eyes swirling with understanding. “What happened that night, Orion? What happened at the Hound’s clubhouse? Why were you there in the first place?”

I shake my head, finding a spot on the floor to stare at and refusing to move my eyes. I’m about to open my mouth and tell them everything when a small screech reaches my ears. I whip my head toward the hallway, noticing half of a face peering at us from behind the shadowed corner.

“Sloane!” Brett crosses her arms as she gives her daughter a stern look. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I don't wanna go to bed!” she whines, her violet eyes wide and brimming with tears. It’s clear she doesn’t wish to shed them, but her emotions are getting the best of her. For a moment, I debate offering to let her stay—quickly banishing the thought when I remember she’s barely eight years old, and this is not a conversation she should listen to.

“Listen to your mother, Sloane.” Ghost walks over and hauls her into his arms. He places a kiss on her unruly black hair, whispering something to her that sounds a lot like “I’ll fill you in later, babygirl. But only if you’re good to your mom.”

He places her back on the ground as Brett gives me an apologetic smile. She walks over and takes Sloane’s hand, kissing her husband lightly on the cheek. “I’m gonna go read with her for a bit. You go talk—I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.” There’s a loving warmth in her gaze as she looks at Ghost. Happy. Fulfilled.

Jealousy roils in my stomach, though it has nothing to do with her or them. It's that thing they have. That unending, unequivocal, magical kind of bond. Though I would never dream of voicing it, I’ve always longed for something like that of my own.

Ghost watches them until they disappear into the bedroom, then he just stares at the closed door for a few moments. Wordlessly, he nods his chin at me, then takes off down the hall.

I follow him into his office, the golden-eyed girl’s shot glass heavy in my pocket. The door slides shut behind us, and he turns his violet eyes onto me with a question bursting forth. Before he has time to ask, I grab the shot glass from my pocket and toss it to him. He looks down at the faint red lipstick print on the rim, his brow furrowing.

“What is this?”

“I need you to help me find someone.” I lean my shoulder casually against the wall. “Figured that might help.”

Ghost sighs, placing the glass gingerly on top of his black oak desk, refusing to look at me. “Why?”

The question takes me aback for a long moment, and I find at the end, I don’t have an answer for him. “I just need to find them. I have to⁠—-”

“No,” he interjects, finally turning his gaze onto me. “Why should I help you? Why, after all this time, when you still refuse to explain yourself?”

I don’t understand the look on his face as he speaks, but the more he goes on, I begin to realize. He’s hurt—I hurt Ghost. The thought is so preposterous, so unbelievable.

Yet, it’s clear as day.

“Is it true?” His violet eyes pierce me from across the room. “Did you really kill that little girl?”

A humorless laugh falls from my lips. “You really need to ask me that?”

“Brett doesn’t think so. She never did. Not for a moment.” His lips press into a thin line. “You broke her heart. You know that, right?”

I nod, suddenly at a loss for words. What could I say to that? “Ghost, I’m sorry⁠—”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” He runs a hand across a face much too tired for his years. “I know you didn’t do it. But you let them imprison you. It was senseless, needless self-sacrifice. And for that, I admit I was… I was angry with you. Angry you wouldn’t let us help you. Angry you cut all ties with Brett and me… and Sloane.” His voice cracks at the mention of his daughter. “She was robbed of the best uncle a girl could ever have.” He looks up through lowered lids. “I understand why you did it. I know all too well the guilt you carry from that day. I never blamed you for that, and I never will. You were my brother then, and you’re my brother now. Because of that, I will do what you ask of me. I’ll find whoever it is you want to find.”

I open my mouth to thank him, but the severity in his eyes has the words dying in my throat. “I understand why you made your decision, but you made my girls cry, Orion. And that is something I will never forget. Never forgive.”

I swallow hard, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach as I think of Brett, her big eyes red from crying after each time I denied her visitation. At the time, I wanted to be left alone—to rot in my misery—and I wasn’t thinking about all the people I was hurting in the process. Truthfully, I didn’t care. And the knowledge of that hurts the deepest.

Pulling his eyes from my face, Ghost turns his attention to the shot glass in his palm, twirling the crystal between his fingers as he inspects the lipstick mark beneath the lights.

“You’re looking for a woman.” A statement, not a question.

“I am.”

“Why?” he asks, never taking his eyes from the mark.

I pause for a beat, considering my words carefully. “I think you already know.”

He closes his eyes tight, taking a deep inhale. “Your intentions?”

“Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize you suddenly grew a pair of morals. I just need you to find her. I can take care of the rest.”

His eyes fly open, and when he speaks, his voice is low. Dangerous. “You’ve changed, Orion…”

That sentence shouldn’t be like a knife to my heart, but it is. Not that he uttered it, but because it’s true. “I guess you have eyes. Good for you.”

His nostrils flare, but he says nothing to retaliate. “I’ll have the info for you in a day or so. And Orion?”

I raise my brows, preparing myself mentally for the blow he’s about to deliver. Except it never comes.

Ghost strides up to me, throwing his arms around me and pulling me into a bear hug. I’m so shocked that I don’t return the gesture for a moment, but when I do, Ghost pulls me tighter against him in a brotherly embrace.

“I’m glad you’re back, Orion,” he says, pulling back with a heavy emotion swimming in his violet gaze. “Don’t do that again. Okay?”

He slaps my shoulder as he passes me, moving down the hall silent as a phantom. He stops at his bedroom door, waggling his fingertips at me in a silent adieu.

And then he’s gone.

I see my way out of the lair, a heaviness settling in my chest as I take the stone steps to the exit and leave the place I called home. But it is no longer and will never be again.

I step out onto the clearing, lulled by the distant waves lapping against the cliffs, their strength just as powerful as the sadness cresting in my veins.

Because even though I am free, I have never felt lonelier in my life.

6

SERAPHINA

“LITTLE DOVE”

It’s not safe in Moriton after dark.

The warning echoes through my mind as I step deeper into the mouth of the forest, the hiking trail barely visible save for the sliver of moonlight peeking through the dense canopy. The night air kisses my arms, drawing goose bumps to the surface of my skin as a distant wolf’s cry breaks the silence. The sound should be cause for alarm, but the things I’ve experienced in my short twenty-four years have dulled me to physical dangers. To the fear of death.

Now, I only fear living.

I clutch my heels in my hand as I continue my leisurely pace, the feel of the ground beneath my bare feet giving me a strange amount of comfort as the shadows encroach from all sides. But it’s not the dark that I’m afraid of.

The dew-tipped grass squishes between my toes as I veer off the path, pushing aside stray branches and shrubbery as I cut a path toward the secret lake at the heart of the forest. I don’t remember when I discovered the place. Only when I laid eyes on it, I was filled with a sense of calm. Of peace.

Now, on nights I'm at war with myself, I make the trek through the woods, ignoring all warnings and tales of the dangerous things that lurk in the Moriton woods at night.

After all, I am one of those things.

I stop at the edge of the glassy lake, marveling at the way the moonlight bounces off the water like a mirror. There’s no sound to disturb me—not the chirp of cicadas or the howling of predators. It’s just me, the lake, and the moon connected beneath the stars.

The beating of wings draws my eyes to the right side of the lake, and I’m struck with the sight of a singular crow, his beady black eye fixed squarely on my figure. I watch him for a few minutes, sure he will eventually lose interest and fly away.

But he doesn’t.

“Crows remember faces, you know?”

Terror strikes my heart as the timbre breaks the silence. There’s something strangely familiar about the voice, a fact that has the hair on my neck rising as I try to recall where I've heard it. But my brain is still too foggy from the toxins—too slow to pinpoint the specific lilt in his deep voice.

I wheel around, my hand sliding over the dagger strapped to my hip as my eyes search the shadows. I can’t see anyone, yet that doesn’t mean they’re not there. I squint, another shock of fear lighting my veins as I make out a decidedly male outline standing just behind the tree line. Try as I might, I can’t make out any of his features—really anything that would help me pick him out in a crowd.

That is, other than that sinful voice.

Silently, I slide my dagger from its sheath. He looks huge, but if I’m quick enough, I’m pretty sure I could take him…

“Who are you?” I demand, my fingers sweaty as I adjust my grip along the handle. “What are you doing out here?”

A laugh is his only answer. The sound is abruptly cut off, and he just stands there, still as a statue… watching me, just like that damn crow.

When he refuses to answer, I take a different route. “Crows remember faces, huh?” I throw my heels to the ground and take a slow step forward, pulling my dagger from its sheath. “Would they be able to tell anyone if my face went missing in the woods?”

Another laugh, though this one is filled with far less humor. “I have no desire to harm you. It would be like hurting a little dove—much too easy. And cruel to boot.”

“Oh.” So he really does underestimate me. Good.

He nods, and though I can’t see his face, I’m sure a smirk twists his mouth. “I can smell your fear from here, little dove. I have to say… it makes me pretty fucking hard.”

I choke on whatever I was going to say next. Taking a shaky breath, I retract the step forward I took earlier, never taking my eyes from the shadowy figure. “Well, that’s interesting because I⁠—”

I take off running. Somewhere behind me, another cruel laugh fills the air, but I’m too busy sprinting back to the hiking trail to wonder what the fuck was so funny.

Something tells me I don’t want to know.

7

SERAPHINA

“BUT DID YOU DIE?”

I’m heaving by the time I get back to the beginning of the hiking trail, my feet bruised and bloody and my mental state worse for wear. I want to stop, to rest, but I force myself onward, only allowing my pace to slow when the grass and rubble turns to concrete beneath my soles. As the lights of the city filter into the space the shadows once possessed, I finally allow myself to stop and catch my breath.

Not two seconds later, a feminine scream sounds off somewhere in the far distance, and my insides squirm. Two distinct pops fill the air, and the night returns to its deadly quiet. A deadly reminder of what could have happened to me.

I blow out a breath as the air around me sours. I wait several moments for police sirens I know will never come, then send out a short prayer to the gods above to help that poor soul cross over. It’s the only help she’ll be receiving…

Blinking hard against the emotion welling in my eyes, I pull my dagger from its sheath and continue my journey. I should go home, but after that interaction with the stranger, I need something to ground me. So, rather than head back to my apartment, I cut diagonally through the city toward the mountains on the northern outskirts of the city limits.

It takes well over an hour, but eventually I make it to the Moriton Mountain Preserve. I head straight to the back, passing through a small gap in the fence the park rangers never bothered to fix. I squeeze through a small space between the cypress trunks and deeper into the woods, my feet taking me down the overgrown path I know by heart.

Another hour, and I enter the small clearing at the base of the Moriton mountains. The autumn wind bites at my exposed flesh, and I stick my tongue out, tasting the moon-kissed air as it whips through my silvery hair. Stepping up to the wall of rock, I place my palm on the small indent at the level of my shoulder, then quickly step back as a panel of pure rock shudders open. Elvira isn’t expecting me tonight, so I hope she doesn’t freak out⁠—

Shwick!

I duck at the last second, just missing the dagger destined for my skull. A dull thunk rings out as it lodges into one of the cypresses behind me, and I straighten with a glare toward the shadowy person standing in the shadowy tunnel of rock. “Must we do this every time?” I grumble, eyeing the mossy green aura shifting around her in the dark.

The silver-haired woman steps into the moonlight, the green hue around her dulling as she leaves the shadow of the tunnel. The weathered skin around her mouth tugs upward as she lowers the second dagger to her side, eyes dancing with thinly veiled affection.

“Only if you keep insisting on sneaking in like a naughty teenager.”

I roll my eyes despite the laughter building in my chest, finally stepping into the passageway. Elvira pockets her dagger and steps in front of me, blocking me from moving any farther into the tunnel.

At the same time as she leans in to scour my face, she reaches out as if meaning to touch my arm. But right before she makes contact, she pulls back like something burned her. “You’re skin and bones. Haven’t you been eating?” Disapproving eyes take in my frame which has, admittedly, lost a few pounds since last I saw her.

I sigh, closing my eyes with a shrug. “When I remember to.”

“So that means no.”

I open my eyes, finding irises the color of bloodstone boring into my soul. “What?”

“Why are you here, Seraphina? And what on earth happened to your feet?”

I shrug again, not wanting to detail my strange encounter with the man by the lake. “Got drunk at the club. Couldn’t drive, so I had to walk here and… heels are a bitch?”

Elvira folds her hands over her chest, looking me up and down. “A weak excuse, but I won’t pry. Though, I do need an answer to my first question.”

I blink at her.

“Why are you here?” she reiterates, her eyes creasing with worry. “Did something… did something bad happen with Ivan?”

I shake my head vehemently. “No, not at all. I just… I missed you guys.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

A wave of relief washes over the old woman’s face as her aura explodes with color, but a moment later, it dies down, and her smile is replaced with her usual look of cold indifference. “Going soft on me, dove?”

I smile at her nickname for me, still finding humor in the irony all these years later. When I first met Elvira ten years ago, she lived on the streets like me. She took one look at the scrawny fourteen-year-old rummaging through the trash—covered in so much soot and grime that it colored my hair gray—and dubbed me her “little bird." At first, I found the name offensive, not realizing it was a term of endearment. Now, I covet it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Vee.” A small smile lifts my lips at the scowl my own nickname for her elicits. I pat her shoulder fondly before pushing past her into the passageway, and the door shudders closed behind us, shaking the walls of the stone walkway as we descend into the depths of the cliffside. After a few seconds, we step into a large circular foyer, the walls and floor of which are set in a deep, shimmering onyx. I blink rapidly to adjust to the light flickering from the iron sconces, breathing in the familiar scent of damp earth and stone.

“I missed this place,” I whisper, catching Vee’s eye over my shoulder.

“It’s only been a week.” She shakes her head with a low, husky chuckle as she hobbles toward the three colored doors at the end of the room, her walking cane tapping lightly against the stone floor. “I find it hard to believe you miss this old damp place that much.”

“Maybe it’s not the place I missed, but the people living in it.” I bump her shoulder with mine playfully.

Vee tuts, shoving me away with a sneer at the contact—though, I don’t miss the way her emerald eyes soften. “There you go with that nonsense again. Save it for the twins.” She pulls open the middle door, which is cast in a glimmering silver hue.

I’m thrown backward off my feet as a thousand pounds of pure fluffy predator barrels into my chest. A scream falls from my lips, though it morphs into a full-bellied laugh a moment later as Sviato, my male tiger, drags his tongue across my cheek. His sister Savyne begins kneading my belly as I lay sprawled on my back, her great weight pushing out the last of the air in my body.

“A little help?” I choke, looking at Vee for assistance as Sviato lays his massive head across my windpipe.

Vee shakes her head with a scoff. “You made your bed, Seraphina. I warned you not to coddle them so when they were cubs.”

Savyne chuffs low in her throat as if in agreement with the cranky old woman, then plops down across my stomach, nuzzling her face against my chest with a force strong enough to leave bruises.

“Must your love be so violent?” I reach up to play with her fuzzy black-tipped ears. Sviato grumbles jealously at the contact, flicking his one good ear back against his skull as he narrows his eyes at his sister. The other stump of an ear twitches slightly, and Savyne reaches a paw up and bats it as if mocking her brother for the missing appendage.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” I bop Savyne’s nose lightly with my forefinger. She rears back with a look like I insulted her ancestors, pressing down with more of her weight on my chest.

Sviato growls unhappily, rearing up to swat his sister off. She bounds away with a flick of her fluffy white tail, looking over her shoulder with her fangs slightly bared. I give Sviato a few scratches, then he bounds after his sister, batting at the tip of her tail playfully—all earlier indiscretions forgotten.

I roll my eyes with a breath of laughter as I roll to my stomach, heaving in a breath as I push to my feet. “I thought they would never get off.”

“But did you die?” Vee grins, pulling open the green-tinted left door. I shake my head, pursing my lips as she chuckles loudly. “Then I don’t see the use in complaining. Come on, dove, let’s get some meat on those scrawny little wings.”

I follow Vee through the door and down a narrow passageway encased in the same glittering onyx as the circular foyer. We pass by two stone-colored doors on the left—a storage for canned goods and Vee’s personal alchemy chamber—before coming into the large open space we’ve dubbed as the living quarters. A small kitchenette rests in the far-right corner, taking up just as much space as the three large meat freezers adjacent to it.

A rust-orange couch lies in the center of the room, positioned a few feet back from Vee’s VCR player, which is currently blasting Casablanca on full volume. My eyes catch on the rubber duck lying on top of the TV set, a smile brushing my lips as I take in the sunglasses and pink bikini adorning its chest.

“You have a new favorite?” I turn my gaze from the duck to where Vee bustles around the kitchen. She stops what she’s doing and looks up, a chuckle shaking her chest as she realizes what I’m talking about.

“Oh, that? No, I just ran out of room on the bookshelf.” She points at the oak bookcase taking up the entirety of the left wall. It is—in fact—filled to the brim with tiny rubber ducks, their outfits ranging anywhere from a green pirate with an eyepatch to a cowboy complete with a hat and revolver. My favorite, though, is the pure black duck sitting at the center of the shelf, its beady eyes seeming to stare at me through the walls of its glass case.

I was fourteen when I learned of Vee’s obsession with the plastic fowl. When you live on the streets, it's smart to only keep possessions that assist with survival—blankets, scraps of food, sharp or pointy things for protection—yet Vee had insisted on carting around a plastic trash bag full of the rubber ducks. The way she protected them reminded me so distinctly of a mother goose with her babies. But when I brought it up to Vee, her eyes turned so sad that I decided to never speak of the plastic oddities again.

That is, until I found the onyx-colored duck on one of my evening dumpster dives. I’d been living with Vee for only a week, but something in me said she would love this little treasure. When I presented it to her, a rare smile tugged at her skin, and she wasn’t even angry that the only food I managed to salvage was a half-eaten chicken sandwich.

Since then, she’s taken extra special care of that duck, going so far as to buying the glass case that costs a hundred times more than the piece of trash could ever be worth. I asked her why once, but she just laughed, patting my knee in a rare display of affection.

“You’ll understand when you’re old and weary like me, Dove,” she said, her bloodstone eyes shimmering with emotion. “When gravity pulls unkindly at your bones and all your friends are dead, your family and pets returned to the earth… it’s then when we realize how much the little things mattered.”

I pull my gaze from the wall of trinkets and join Vee in the kitchen, finding her bent over a frying pan. “Whatcha cookin’, good lookin’?”

Vee waves me away with a disgruntled huff, expertly flipping the omelet she managed to scrounge up in the thirty seconds I was admiring the ducks. “Don’t bother me while I’m working, girl,” she huffs, sliding the fluffy half circle of egg onto a cracked porcelain plate.

I grab the plate from her hands gratefully, using my fingers to get the omelet into my mouth as Vee looks on with a mix of disgust and shock. “Who told you it was okay to eat like a starved shrew? Really now, Seraphina.” She shoves a fork at me, and I just grin, horking down the rest of the egg mixture before she has a chance to do anything about it.

“Seraphina May Valez!”

I swallow the mammoth of a bite, grinning at her cheekily. “What? I didn’t want to waste a dish.”

Vee shakes her head, shuffling toward the couch and plopping down with a sigh. “Are you staying the night?” she asks, all earlier disapproval forgotten as she nestles into the cushions and gets ready to watch her shows.

I really should be heading back into the city to my apartment so I can prepare for my meeting with Ivan tomorrow. But just as the thought passes, Savyne climbs onto the back of the couch, giving me a look like, Well? Aren’t you coming?

With a resigned sigh, I sit down on the seat at the other end of the couch, making room for Sviato to somehow position his massive body between Vee and me on the center cushion. I lie back, rubbing my eyes as a yawn threatens to take hold. Vee was right—I hadn’t been eating—and now that my belly is full and I’m relaxing with three-quarters of my family, I can’t deny how tired I am.

How long has it been this time? Three days? Four?

Time blurs together during the really bad bouts of insomnia, and the longer I try to make out how long it’s been since I last slept, the more my head pounds. I focus on emptying my mind, dulling my sense of my surroundings as I pretend to pay attention to the black-and-white film blaring from the VCR.

I settle further into the cushions, breathing in a deep breath as I allow my eyes to close. Just for a second. I’ll only rest my eyes for a minute, and then I’ll get right back to watching Vee’s show. I’ll get right back to it in just a few more minutes.

Just a few… a few more…. a few…

I fall into a dream, except the dream feels a lot like a memory.

And it’s not even a memory, but a nightmare.

The vision takes root, pulling me apart and pressing my parts together into a mangled mass of flesh, blood and bone. Crows circle above, beady black eyes pinned on my skull— cracked open like a ripened melon to reveal the stinking, rotting brains within.

Worms. They whisper. Tasty, juicy worms.

A small crow streaked with silver-tipped feathers lands on the yellowed grass nearby, its beak open wide and coming closer.

Closer.

Closer.

CO

LS

E

R

And it’s not even a beak, but a mouth rimmed with hundreds of pointy, serrated teeth. Teeth for biting. Teeth for tearing.

Its eyes swell to the size of dinner plates, then shrink down to pinpoints, all the while the slurping, salivating mouth draws nearer.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t.”

“Please, please, please.” It mocks in a voice that belongs to someone else. “Please don’t. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do⁠—”

“SERAPHINA!”

I wake in a frenzied daze, my vision hazy and a sheen of sweat coating my exposed skin, seeping into the couch cushions. I desperately try to blink away the fog, and my gaze locks onto Elvira’s face, desperate to hold on to something concrete.

“Where am I?” I whisper, my vocal cords scratching against sandpaper with every word. “What day is it?”

“It’s midnight.” Vee’s bony shoulders go taut with concern. She even goes so far as to place a hand on my forehead, the rare moment of contact causing me to jump. “You were having a dream.”

“I was having a nightmare,” I correct, caught between the desire to shove her hand from my itchy skin or pull her closer. “I’m fine now,” I murmur, the former winning out as I brush her hand aside.

“Is it the same one?” Vee’s aura deepens to a green that’s practically black as I nod. “When’s the last time you slept, Seraphina?”

“Come on, Vee. You know I don’t keep track of those kinds of things⁠—”

“How. Long?”

“Ninety-two hours.” I sit up straighter, focusing intently on the film still blaring from the television. “Not the worst my insomnia’s been.”

“It’s also not the best.” Vee leans closer, her orange-flecked eyes taking in my profile intently. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have ground you up some Valerian root tincture.”

“Eh. You know how that stuff gives me the tummy rumbles.” I wave her off with a chuckle that sounds more forced than I intended.

“Seraphina…”

“I’m fine, Vee.” I move to stand from the couch when Vee’s grip on my arm stops me.

“Seraphina, please,” she whispers, her eyes filling with a deep sadness. “Let me help you.”

I think about refusing for a moment, but the raw look in her bloodstone eyes has my words dying in my throat. “Okay.” I rest my shoulders back against the cushions. “Okay. I’ll take some of that tincture.”

Vee rushes out of the room toward her alchemy chamber, reappearing only a minute later with a hissing purple liquid. I scrunch my nose as she shoves the dropper toward my mouth, and I take a deep gulp of air to steady myself before opening my mouth and letting the tincture coat my tongue.

I fight the gag that tries to force its way out as I choke down the awful, bitter liquid, dutifully ignoring Vee’s little chuckles as she sits front row to my struggle.

“Better?” A smirk tugs at her mouth as my eyelids begin to droop against my will. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

I only manage a weak nod as I fall sideways onto Sviato, barely registering as Vee places a handknit blanket over my shoulders to tuck me in for the night. I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep as Vee rustles around the space before retiring to her bedroom.

As soon as I’m sure she’s gone, my eyes pop back open, and it’s an intense battle against the drugs coursing through my veins. But even as sleep tugs at my consciousness, whispering sweet nothings to lull me into its clutches, I resist.

Because it’s better to go without sleep than risk having the same cursed nightmare twice.

8

ORION

“REMEMBERING”

It’s quiet out here. Too quiet.

A frown pulls at my mouth as I stop dead in the middle of the clearing, nothing but the chirp of cicadas to break the silence of the still winter night. Earthy notes of wet dirt and cypress zest the air—a strange scent after being locked in a concrete prison for the past eight years. My boots crunch against the blanket of dead leaves as I delve deeper into the Moriton forest, the waning moon doing little to guide my path through the dense underbrush. But it matters not. I know the way by heart.

As I walk, I can’t help my mind wandering to that beautiful girl by the lake. The same one who was at the bar. She was… ethereal. The way the light bounced off her silver hair, drawing out the molten gold in her eyes—just the thought has my cock hardening.

A growl tears from my chest as I force those desires from my mind. I’m a bad man—a sick man. My darkness will infect her as it does everything that touches me. No. The golden girl is better without me.

Although, no matter how much I say it, my cock never gets the memo.

It takes several hours by foot, but I finally make it to the cabin as the sun begins its ascent into the sky, coloring the land in vibrant hues of orange and pink. I wrinkle my nose at the sad state of the structure I once called my home, gazing upon the sagging foundation and wondering if it’s even safe to enter.

With a glare at the bright ball of light daring to highlight all of its shortcomings, I move toward the place I once called home. The rotted wooden steps squeal as I ascend the stairs to the front door, and the main deck is no better off. I press my wrist to the small divot in the wood, half expecting nothing to happen. But to my surprise, the panel that serves as the door slides open at the first brush of contact with the key nestled in my wrist.

A heady blast of mildew and condensation smacks me in the face as I step into the cabin, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the corner of the room where a small bed lies, a ratty patchwork quilt layered lovingly over the plain gray bedspread.

I move toward the bed in a trance, pinching the blanket between my fingers and bringing it toward my chest to… what? Snuggle it?

With a huff, I lay the blanket back on the bed and move toward the opposite end of the room, where a large wooden safe is located. Pleased to find all my equipment safe despite the state of the rest of the cabin, I lock the safe up tight and move back to the bed, plopping down with a heavy sigh.

It’s quiet here. Too quiet.

Filled with restless energy, I stand and move toward the door, needing something to distract me from the thoughts trying to batter their way to the forefront of my mind.

I stare out at the glassy lake, watching the way the moonlight ripples off its surface. The color reminds me so distinctly of something. A pair of eyes from years ago. The little life I was unable to save.

A weight presses down on my spine, causing me to fall to my knees as a searing pain builds behind my eyes. It takes me a while to realize actual tears are streaming down my face, and when I notice, I can’t find it in me to care. No one is around to see them.

And if that's the case… are they even falling in the first place?

I press my forehead to the dewy grass, allowing the coolness dripping from the blades to take away some of the fire blazing beneath my skin. It’s a tornado of flame and fury. An uncontrollable wildfire, eating everything in its path. Burning me up from the inside out.

My mind falls prey to the scorching heat, and before I know it, I’m falling.

Remembering…

8 years ago…

“Just hold on! I’m going to get you out of here!” I shout, clutching the little blond Arelia tighter in my grip. She’s so small, so fragile, I’m worried my strength will crush her bones—but I can’t let up. Can’t let go. Can’t stop moving.

I’ve been running through the labyrinth of underground tunnels for what seems like an eternity, desperately trying to find a way out. If I don’t find a way soon, the two masked men chasing us will catch up. And all of this will be for nothing.

Forcing myself to a halt, I close my eyes and listen for something—anything—that could help me. It’s eerily silent down here. There’s no noise—nothing, save for the slow drip of condensation coming from the vent by the entrance of the tunnels.

Chest brimming with hope, I walk toward that sound, pausing with each turn to make sure I’m still headed in the right direction. When I finally set eyes on the concrete steps leading to the main clubhouse level, my pulse skitters in excitement.

“Look,” I whisper, raising a shaking finger to point at the steps ahead. “You’re almost free.”

For the first time since I saw her, Arelia’s eyes brighten with something akin to hope. She turns those baby blues onto me, her chipped smile so wide I’m worried her face will split in two.

“Th-thank you.” She lets go of my shirt just long enough to throw her stringy arms around my neck. My chest feels fuzzy as I return the embrace, an unfamiliar warmth spreading to my fingertips as she sobs into my shoulder. I’m careful not to hug her too hard for fear of injuring her frail body, but all I want to do is crush her in my grip and tell her everything will be okay.

“You don’t need to thank me.” My voice cracks as emotion wells in my throat. “I’m so sorry for…” I try to finish the sentence, but the words won't come. There really is nothing I can say to her—nothing I can offer that would reverse the horrors she’s lived through. The only thing I can do is get her the fuck out of here and away from these people who want to hurt her.

Later… later, I’ll come back and enact her revenge for her.

I make my way up the stairs, the rapid beating of two hearts the only sound to fill the small space. I grip the handle of the small wooden hatch at the top of the steps, looking at the girl and making sure she’s ready for what’s about to come. Her chin wobbles as she nods, her hands gripping my shirt even tighter as she buries her face into the crook of my arm like I taught her.

She doesn’t need to see what’s about to happen up there.

I take a steadying breath, closing my eyes and grabbing the gun nestled in my pocket. I hold it like a lifeline as I force my arm upward, allowing light to spill into my eyes as the hatch opens to the club leader’s office.

I hasten across the room toward the exit, wrapping my fist around the doorknob only to jerk away when a male voice sounds from the other side of the oak. Clutching the girl to my chest, I rush behind the desk, crouching low in the hopes they won’t notice us.

The voices draw closer, and I frown as the timbre of Floyd Cox spills beneath the door.

“Right this way, boys. We’ll enter through my office.”

Another male voice speaks out, “I told you—Coxy has the hookup. All the tight pussy you could want.”

Bile rises in my throat, coating my mouth with a taste one millionth as vile as the words that just fell from his lips. I press one of the girl's ears to my chest, covering the other with my spare hand so she doesn’t have to hear the revolting words.

“Unfortunately, I only have one girl left—the last batch I had shipped in barely lasted a week—but the one I have will be more than enough for you boys.”

One of them chuckles. “They just don’t make ’em like they used to.”

Anger heats my veins, so rapid and violent I’m sure I’ll combust on the spot. Children. They’re talking about children.

The door clicks open, and in steps Floyd Cox, black hair greased and chunky gold rings adorning each of his disgusting sausage fingers. Two more men in club uniforms follow at his heels—a fat bald one and a skinny one with diamond studs—both pathetic, vile excuses for human beings.

Floyd strides over to the hatch, and I hold my breath, praying he’ll lead the men down so Arelia and I can make our escape. Just when I think he’ll wrap his hand around the handle, he stops, straightening and gazing around the room with narrowed eyes.

And that’s when I realize—the carpet.

I didn’t put the carpet over the hatch.

“Come out, come out, little girl,” he calls, clearly unaware there’s a fully grown man in the room along with her. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The hatch bursts open, revealing the two men chasing us in the tunnels. Their voices collide as they try to explain what happened down there, but when Floyd finally realizes what they’re saying, his hand moves to the gun strapped to his hip.

It’s now or never.

Before they can act, I stand from behind the desk, my face a twist of rage as I fire my gun. Five distinct pops fill the air, each bullet landing square in the forehead of each of the members—except Floyd. He only gets one in his stomach.

Sulfur and gunpowder hang heavy in the air as I take deep, shuddering breaths. The gun is hot in my hand, shaking slightly from the adrenaline of ending four lives.

Floyd’s screams sound far in the distance as I walk toward him, a disgusted sneer on my face as I take in the man rolling around on the floor like a freshly hatched maggot.

I line up the tip of the gun at his crotch, firing once. A squeal of agony fills the air, and a malicious smile spreads across my face as I fire again. And again. And again.

Eventually, I run out of bullets. My face drops as I look down at the useless weapon in my palm, none of the rage inside me quelled. If anything, it’s grown stronger. More hateful.

“Pl-please don’t… kill… me,” Floyd wheezes, tears streaming from his eyes. His hands are stained with fresh blood as he clutches what used to be a cock, and I spit in disgust at the sight.

“Don’t worry. I’m doing the world a favor.” I step to his head, the barrel of the gun clenched tightly in my fist. Floyd looks up at me with helpless, tear-filled eyes—begging me for a shred of mercy. The same kind he never once extended to his victims.

With Arelia’s terrified face in my mind, I bring the butt of the gun down onto his skull. I strike him again and again. I hit him until his nose is concave until his brains flow like soup from his shattered skull.

And then I hit him some more.

Only when I hear Arelia softly weeping in the corner do I shake the fog of bloodlust. The red fades from my eyes, and I gaze down in utter numbness at the remains of Floyd Cox.

Good riddance.

Shaking from the adrenaline, I step over to where Arelia is hiding behind the desk, doing my best to wipe my bloodied hands before she sees me. But there’s just too much of it, and all I manage to do is ruin my T-shirt further.

“Arelia.” I hold out a hand for her to take. She peers up at me with big, trusting eyes, wrapping her fist around my index finger without a second thought. I pull her into my chest, breathing a sigh of relief when I realize she’s unharmed. Safe.

“How are you holding up, kid?” I brush her dark hair back from her eyes. She’s pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and roving, as if something will jump out of the shadows at any moment. I’m about to reassure her against this when they do.

Four more club members burst into the office, their weapons raised and faces full of rage as they take in the carnage.

“He murdered Floyd!” Someone at the back screams. “Kill him!”

It all happens so fast. One moment, I’m holding a perfectly healthy Arelia in my arms, and the next, I’m trying to stem the bleeding gushing from a massive hole in her sternum.

“No!” I scream, clutching her tiny face in my palms as her face pales. There’s so much blood leaving her tiny body, and I don’t know how to stop it. But God, would I do anything to stop it.

“Just hold on, Arelia!” I yell, holding pressure to the wound. But it’s useless—the blood slows its flow, but I know it’s not from anything I’m doing. She’s dying.

“Arelia, please.” I don’t even notice as four shots ring out, striking me in the back and legs. I crumple to the floor, cradling Arelia so her fragile body isn’t bruised by the fall. Yet even as I do it, I know it’s useless.

“It’s… okay.” She reaches up and places her tiny, bloodied hand on my cheek. It’s so warm and so, so cold. And as I look down at the girl too good for this world, my heart shatters.

“It’s okay.” She coughs. “You… you tried your best… to save me.”

Another shot rings out, and pain sears across my mind. But it’s nothing compared to the pain of watching Arelia die in my arms. Not even fucking close.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, rocking slightly as my mind breaks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I’m not sure what happens next—only that, when I come to, four more dead men surround me, and I’m clutching Arelia to my chest, rocking back and forth. The words echoing in my mind are the same ones falling from my lips in a loop, though they don’t change anything. Don’t erase this horrible ache in my chest, in my soul.

When the police finally show up two hours later, they find me in that same position. I’m still shaking, still clutching Arelia’s lifeless body to my chest. Still muttering the same phrase, over, and over, and over.

“I killed her… I killed her… I killed her…”

I blink, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes as the lake comes back into focus. I gaze up at the stars, at the vast nothingness—wishing there was a way to know Arelia’s soul was somewhere safe. That she was no longer hurting.

But I don’t know of any such place. And I know no such truth.

With a sigh, I get to my feet and shuffle toward the cabin, my heart as heavy as the steps I take. I pass out on top of the covers, not having the energy to take off the false uniform or even my shoes. And as I fall into nothingness, I pray for my first night of deep sleep in eight years.

But a pair of golden eyes follow me into the abyss.

9

SERAPHINA

“CLIMBING MT. KILIMANJARO IS A BITCH… OR SO I’VE HEARD”

I stay awake through the night. With my eyes closed against the morning light, I run my fingers through Sviato’s fur, listening to the gentle rustlings of Vee as she rises from bed. When I hear her cane tapping closer to the living room, I sit up straight, loosing a yawn so violent it scares Sviato. His yellow eyes widen, his ears flat against his head as he sniffs my mouth, seemingly disturbed by the sound my tiredness drew from my lips.

Savyne hops onto the couch, swatting at her brother’s nose and drawing an irritated growl from his mouth.

“That’s enough, children,” I scold, booping Sviato on the nose. He rears back, his mouth slightly parted at the indiscretion, and his sister uses his distraction to jump on his back. They both tumble to the floor in a mess of fur and claws, and I just shake my head, standing from the couch and heading into the kitchen to wait for Vee.

She smiles when she sees me, though it dims slightly as she takes in the deep purple beneath my eyes. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

A sheepish smile tilts my lips. Vee shakes her head with a tut, shuffling over to the fridge.

“Can I make you some breakfast?”

My stomach rumbles at the mention, but I still shake my head. “I’ve gotta get going. Maggie is probably so worried. I was supposed to sleep there last night, but…”

Vee tuts again. “You worry too much about that girl. You should think about yourself more, Seraphina. Your wants. Your needs.”

I frown. “I do.”

Vee raises a brow.

“Okay, maybe I could a little more… but Maggie needs me more than I need me.”

Vee sighs but says no more on the issue. “Okay. But I’m sending you there with more tincture—and I don’t want any lip about it,” she adds, grabbing a copper vial from the cabinet and shoving it into my palm. Her fingers fold around mine in a rare moment of contact, and I smile gratefully at the elderly woman.

“You’re too good to me, Vee.”

“Pah.” She waves me off, releasing me shuffling back to the stove. “You’ll be back next week?”

“Like clockwork,” I say, heading over to the tigers and giving them some goodbye scratches. “I’ll miss you guys,” I whisper, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “If I could take you with, I would.”

Sviato grunts while Savyne paws my face playfully, and I lean down, giving them each a forehead kiss before straightening and heading to the exit. I wave goodbye to Vee, but she’s busy over the stove and doesn’t see me.

“I’ll be seeing you,” I whisper.

If I knew they would be some of the last words I spoke to her, I might have chosen them more carefully. But I don’t.

And I leave without looking back.

An hour later, I’m taking the steps up to Maggie’s and my apartment on the south side of Moriton. I knock twice and press my ear to the door. When I don’t hear any footsteps approaching, I sigh, pulling my purse from my shoulder and beginning the game of “find the keys among all this unnecessary crap.”

I’ve barely shoved my foot through the door before a pair of arms are thrown around my neck, and I stumble back into the hallway to support the weight of my roommate and best friend, Maggie. A neon pink aura bursts from her shoulders, swirling and mixing with beautiful hues of gold around her head, like a halo.

Large pupils ringed with cobalt shine up at me, the beauty of them only matched by the gleaming white smile plastered on her freckled face. “Nina!”

She squeals happily, embracing me once more before pulling back fully. A flaming red curl falls onto her face, and she blows air out the side of her mouth in an attempt to get it back in order. It has the opposite effect, and more unruly strands join the first, covering her left eye entirely and sticking to her glossed lips.

“Stupid mane,” she grumbles, unhooking an arm from my neck and brushing her hair back with a pout. “I’m one more hairball away from shaving it all off.”

“I’d reconsider that one. I’ve seen you when your hair’s wet—you don’t have the head shape for it.” I eye her warily, trying to discern if she’s joking about the hairball situation. Deciding I don’t want to know, I start the process of prying the needy koala from my body.

Maggie continues to pout, the neon pink dimming as she pulls her limbs off and allows me to step into the apartment. The scent of old wood wafts up my nose, and I close my eyes as a sense of calm washes over me. Home away from home. If only the landlord would allow two tigers to live here with us…

“Where were you last night?” she asks, her aura darkening to magenta as she steps over to where I’ve plopped onto the couch. “I thought you were coming here after you saw Ivan?”

“I… went to visit Vee.” I decide not to tell her about the man in the woods, not wanting to dim her light any further. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was so tired, and it must have slipped my mind.”

“Oh!” She claps her hands together excitedly, all the worry vanishing from her face as her aura brightens. “How’s grandma Vee? Did you two have a nice time?”

She sits next to me on the couch, pulling her legs beneath her as she waits eagerly for my response. I reach out and pat her on the head, my lips mirroring her infectious smile.

“We did. She fed me and we watched Casablanca before I passed out on the couch. It was nice to see her and the tigers.”

She lies down, resting her head in my lap and looking up at me with her big, excited blue eyes. “How are the fuzzy killers? I wish you could bring them over for visits like when they were cubs.”

I laugh, remembering how I used to sneak Savyne and Sviato inside in a portable crate when they were small enough. Although the tigers never really gave her the time of day, it never stopped Maggie from trying to win over their affection with treats and promises of undying love.

Like house cats, tigers are just picky. Half the time, they don’t even like me—and I’m their mom. Maggie understood this, and I think that's the reason she never gave up on trying to make the twins notice her. Of course, now that they’re too big to sneak into the apartment building, she hasn’t had the chance to try and win their affections. And it’s probably just as well—an uncomfortable adult tiger is a lot more dangerous than a cub.

“Savyne is good.” A smile forma at the thought of her. “Still terrorizing her poor brother every chance she has. And Sviato is a force to be reckoned with, but he still lets her walk all over him like when she was bigger than him—it’s the cutest thing.”

“You’re killing me!” Maggie groans. “I so want to snuggle a tiger now.”

“Coming from a person who’s never woken up with a face full of tiger drool.”

“I would gladly take the drool for a chance to love on those two cuties. You’re just ungrateful.” Maggie sticks her tongue out, and a laugh bubbles from my lips.

“You’ll just have to come and visit them. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

A wave of regret courses through my veins as Maggie’s face drops. She turns to the TV, her bottom lip quivering with barely restrained emotion.

“Magoo, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking⁠—”

“It’s not you, Nina.” A pulse of deep blue replaces her normally pink aura. “It’s me. I wish I wasn’t this way. I wish things were different.”

I shake my head, pulling her tiny body into my arms and hugging her hard. “Don’t say that. You are perfect just the way you are.”

Maggie suffers from severe Agoraphobia, which makes it impossible for her to leave the apartment. She doesn’t have anyone other than me to give her company, and so I know these past few weeks I’ve been busy have taken a toll on her mental health.

Being two years younger than me, Maggie has always been like a little sister to me. The things we’ve been through… there’s no one on the earth that’s experienced the horrors the Sanctum put us through. It’s why she’s so closed off, so terrified of the world around us. It makes sense to me, and the fact I’ve neglected my big sister duties causes a ball of guilt to harden in my stomach.

I gaze down at her, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “I love you with all your quirks. If you didn’t have them, you just wouldn’t be my Magoo, would you?”

She giggles as I pinch her sides teasingly, the sound filling the air bringing a smile to my own face. What I said was true—she is perfect the way she is. And I’ll stick by her side no matter what. It’s what I’ve always done. What I’ll always do.

Suddenly, Maggie springs upright, all her earlier laughter dying. “Oh my! Look at the state of our poor plant!” She jumps up from the couch, hurrying over to the window with silent, pixie-like movements. She crouches by the browning Monstera with a pinched expression marring her pretty features. “How did this happen? I watered it last week!”

I push up from the couch, stopping silently at her side as I place my hand on her shoulder again. This time, she looks up at me with a frown and tears building in her beautiful ocean eyes. “I’m so sorry, Nina. I really tried to keep it alive.”

“It’s okay. It’s just a plant.” I decide now is not the time to mention the soil looks bone-dry—as if it had never been watered. Besides, I know the dead foliage isn’t the thing that’s actually causing her distress.

“Magoo… you’re my favorite person. My best friend. And I think you’re perfect just the way you are… you know that, right?” I whisper, reaching up and dragging my hand down the back of her unruly red curls. “Nothing could ever change that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, dropping her hands to her lap and picking at her cuticle. “I know and yet… I still wish I was less of a burden on you.”

I crouch next to her, placing my hand atop hers as memories of the past try to push their way out of the dark. “You’re not a burden, Magoo. What would make you think that?”

Her eyes flit toward the window. “You work so much to support us, and when you’re here, you’re always so exhausted, but you never sleep. I just… I feel like I hurt you more than I help you lately. And that’s the last thing I want, Nina. After everything you’ve done for me⁠—”

I reach out, pressing my finger to her lips. “Magoo, I do it because I love you. Taking care of you is not a chore or a burden for me. If anything, having you here gives me something to look forward to—knowing I get to come home and be myself with you. In fact, I’ve been thinking about taking a week off. A vacation is just what I need—days spent here with you, eating shitty takeout and watching your favorite boring as fuck geographic TV.”

Maggie brightens slightly, the tears shining in her eyes now ones of happiness. “Can you… are you sure you can do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re not just doing this for me?”

I hold out my little finger to her, even though I know it’s only half the truth. “Pinky promise.”

She hooks hers with mine, a great big smile finally reaching her eyes. It causes my heart to pinch, and as I watch her skip toward the couch, I know I’ve done the right thing.

I help her stand and we move to the couch. I turn on the TV to whatever channel was playing last, pretending to pay attention to the show as my mind swirls, trying to figure out a way for me to be at the apartment more often.

First, I’ll have to cancel Sunday with Tommy. Then, I can move Mark to Tuesday afternoon and be home for dinner. Oh, and maybe I could⁠—

“Oh my God! That’s so fucking cool!” Maggie gasps, breaking me from my thoughts as she slaps a hand violently against my knee. “Look, Nina! Those people are literally standing on top of that mountain! And look at that sunrise!” Her eyes stay glued to the screen as she watches the panorama of the couple watching the sunrise atop Mount Kilimanjaro.

“The sunrise from Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania is said to be one of the most beautiful—and rare—sunrises a person can witness. Hikers travel hundreds of miles on rocky cliffs, sometimes taking several days to reach the summit, all to catch a glimpse of this beautiful spectacle of nature.”

“Nina… I want to see that,” Maggie breathes, her eyes shining with a glimmer of raw desire. “No, I need to see that. Write this down Nina—before I die, I need to see the sunrise from Mount Kilimanjaro.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “Magoo, you literally hate exercise. Now you want to climb up an entire mountain?”

“To see that in person? Hell yes,” she says, a nod accompanying her determined expression. “I’d do anything. Even if it means I have to take a couple of rounds on a stair-stepper.”

“I think that’s the least you’ll need to do. Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro is a bitch… or so I’ve heard.” I laugh, nudging her shoulder fondly. “And hey, if it helps, I can train with you. We can do a whole schedule to make sure you’re ready to climb that big ole rock.” So few things really get Maggie interested in leaving the house, so if this is the thing that finally gives her the desire to try, I’m going to go with it a thousand percent. “Hey, I’ll even buy us one of those fancy stair-stepper machines.”

“Really?” Maggie turns to me, her eyes bright.

“Pinky promise.”

Maggie and I nestle into the couch cushions, and before long, I feel my lids droop. It’s been four days since I’ve slept, yet when its sweet embrace tugs at my conscience, I fight it with everything I have. But it doesn’t matter—sleep always finds me one way or another.

And with it comes the memories.

10

ORION

“SHITTY, TITTY TWISTING LIFE”

The golden-eyed girl gazes up at me from where she’s crouched between my thighs, her lids hooded as she inches her lips toward my pulsing cock. I buck my hips in an attempt to feel her sooner, and the seductress leans back with a smirk, pressing a red-tipping finger to her lips in a shushing motion.

The veins in my forearms pulse from the strength I hold myself back from touching her—knowing as soon as I do, the image will be shattered, and the beautiful girl will be gone.

“Have you been a good boy?” she whispers. “Do you think you deserve to feel my lips on your cock?”

Her lilting voice is a sweet caress, rolling over my skin and soaking to the marrow of my bones. I buck my hips in response, my lips slightly parted as I nod my assent.

“Yes,” I groan. “I’ll die if I can’t have you—just fucking die.”

“Will you?” She bites her lip seductively, placing a finger on my abdomen and dragging it down at an excruciating pace. “And what would you do to have me?”

“Fucking anything.” My response is immediate. “I’d pull down the moon if you wanted it—tear down the fucking stars if it would make you happy. Just, please, put me out of my misery.”

Her feline smile widens at my words, golden eyes shimmering in the moonlight as she ducks back down to my cock. Her plump lips part just so, ready to take my head into her mouth and⁠—

“Caw! Caw!”

A furious roar pours from my mouth as I’m dragged from my blissful dream and into reality. Shitty, titty twisting reality.

“Damn crow.” I slap my arm over my face as Bacchus screeches like a damn rooster. “Can’t find a moment’s peace.”

Bacchus ceases his crowing, turning his one beady eye onto my half-naked frame. With a dramatic gasp, I pull the threadbare sheet up to my neck, wagging my finger at Bacchus with a stern expression. “Bacchus! I’m indecent!”

He blinks, his beak opening soundlessly as he stares at his crack-pot father. Deciding he’s seen enough, he fluffs and takes to the sky, leaving me with a nice little pile of crow shit on my bedroom window.

I sigh, rubbing a hand over the sleep in my eyes as I shuffle toward the door. I throw it open, only to come face-to-face with a pissed-off Ghost. His violet eyes watch Bacchus warily from where he’s perched on the living room windowsill, feathers fluffed and looking back with just as much distrust.

Ah. So that’s why Bacchus woke me up.

“Morning, beautiful,” I greet. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

When he notices my presence, his head snaps over, the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking violently. He holds up a black flip phone, his expression severe. “I found what you were looking for. Everything’s in here.”

“Not even a hello? Love you too, Ghost.” I can’t help my smirk as I take a step forward, ready to bury myself in the golden-eyed girl's information when Ghost stuffs the device back into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I demand, irritation heating the back of my neck. “This is the part of the transaction where you hand me the damn phone.”

He just shakes his head. “You should leave her alone, Orion.”

My lip curls in a snarl. “Thanks, dad, but I’m a big boy now—I can make my own decisions.” I reach for his pocket, but he steps back out of reach, his hand moving to the dagger at his hip.

“Orion, listen to me⁠—”

“Just give me the motherfucking phone.” My face twists in rage as I lock eyes with him. “I ask you for one thing—one fucking thing in twenty-eight years, and you won’t do it. You don’t trust me with this. You don’t trust me with anything—certainly not anymore.”

Ghost’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but it’s enough to know my words hurt him. “That’s not true. I just… have to see if the man I used to admire is hidden somewhere under that shell you’ve forged.” He heaves a sigh as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the phone and tossing it across the room. It lands effortlessly in my outstretched hand, though I’m not looking at it anymore. I’m locked into the haunting expression crossing Ghost’s face. “Before you go looking for her, there’s something you should know.”

“And that is?”

He sucks a deep breath, a memory swimming behind his eyes. “The girl you’re looking for… she’s a Madam. Or, more specifically, she was supposed to be. Before…”

“Before we interfered.” My eyes go wide as I realize what this means. “So she… she’s like you.”

He shakes his head. “Madams have a much different training regime than Masks. In addition, they are selected as infants—so the only thing they know is the cruelty of the Sanctum. It is their design. The way of their sick, twisted world.” His gaze hardens. “The girl is likely missing her humanity, Orion. What they do to those girls… it’s unimaginable.”

I shake my head, refusing to believe it. “Well, she’s clearly not trying to lead them anymore. Maybe she’s just like you, trying to find someone worthy to look past their fucked-upness. And yeah, I might be messed up myself, but maybe that’s just what she need⁠—”

“You’re not listening, Orion,” Ghost interrupts, his eyes holding an unusual glimmer of sadness. “She’s dangerous. She will hurt you—in more ways than one. Not only that but the remaining members of the Sanctum are still looking for her. Do you know what that means?”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

Ghost sighs. “It means that when they find her—because they will, eventually—you will be caught in their crossfire. And you will lose that battle. Every damn time. They will kill you, Orion, and I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if that happened. None of us could.”

Overwhelmed by the raw emotion in his voice, I look at the window where Bacchus is preening, bored by the emotion-filled conversation happening around him. “We all die at some point,” I whisper, my mind turning to the golden-eyed girl’s serene expression. And I know by the way my heart pounds, there’s no way I can leave her alone. “I need her, Ghost. I need her like I’ve never needed anything, and I… it’s fucking crazy, but I do. I mean, fuck, I don’t even know the girl…” I hang my head, a whoosh of breath leaving my lips. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

Ghost steps over to me, placing a gloved hand on my shoulder and squeezing. “If it feels like you’re about to vomit and shit your heart out at the same time…then I’m sorry to tell you, but you might have a case of the love bug.”

“The love bug?” I fight a laugh.

Ghost rolls his eyes. “I have an eight-year-old daughter now. Deal with it.”

“It’ll take some getting used to.” I grin, pulling Ghost into an overdue embrace. His arms tighten around my shoulders, and I have to fight the emotion welling in my eyes as I realize how long it’s been since we last did this. Eight years too many.

“I meant what I said last night.” Ghost pulls away and fixes me with a stern expression he probably picked up from fathering Sloane. “Don’t you fucking get locked up again. Brett and I need you around for Sloane’s terrible teens.”

I cringe playfully. “She’s gonna be a hell-raiser. I feel sorry for the balls on whichever dude falls for her.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Ghost groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “You know you have to come to the lair, right? The girls have been talking nonstop about having you over for dinner and a movie night.”

A smile lights my face as I remember the nights Brett, Ghost, and I used to spend in front of the TV, gorging ourselves on freezer food and shitty action movies. “Let me know when, and I’m there.”

Ghost smiles, the first genuine one I’ve seen since I got out. “I’ll talk to the bosses and get back with you.” He turns on his heels, moving toward the exit with a wave of his gloved fingers. “Take care of yourself, Orion. And be careful with you know who.”

Like a ghost, he vanishes, leaving me alone in an empty room with nothing but thoughts of the golden-eyed girl to fill my head. Bacchus squawks from the sill, reminding me I’m not as alone as I think. I step over to him, stroking a hand across his silky black feathers, my mind a mess of images and questions—though one shines through brighter than them all.

Just what exactly did they do to you, little dove?

11

SERAPHINA

“THE SHRIKE”

14 years ago…

“Nina! Nina! Guess what, Nina?”

I raise my head from the tattered National Geographic magazine Maggie loaned me, finding the red-haired girl in question racing toward me through the field. Her foot snags on a bramble root in her haste, and she goes flying forward in slow motion.

I’m moving before I even know it, leaping across the short distance and snagging Maggie midair, wrapping my arms around her as I twist so my body takes the brunt of the impact. The air leaves my lungs in a mighty whoosh as we crash to the ground, the yellowed grass barely softening the impact as it crunches heavily beneath my back.

“Nina! Why did you do that?” Maggie scurries off me and takes my face between her delicate hands, searching for signs of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” I roll to my hands and knees and take several deep breaths. “You should be more careful, Magoo.”

“I’m plenty careful!” Maggie stamps her foot while crossing her arms. “Hey! You didn’t even ask what I wanted to show you!”

I roll my eyes at the eight-year-old, unable to believe she’s only two years younger than me. Madams in Training are forced to mature so quickly, it’s strange Maggie still acts the way she does sometimes.

Of course, part of the reason is because I protect her at every turn. How could I not? Maggie is the best of us. The heart of our messed-up little group. Her joy for life is the only reason half of us keep going every day. Without her, we would be lost.

If only everyone saw it that way…

“Margaret! Seraphina! What are you doing?”

My blood freezes as the familiar lilt of the Madam’s voice carries throughout the clearing, and my terrified eyes find Maggie’s, silently begging her to run. If the Madam catches us out here relaxing…

Maggie shakes her head, puffing her chest out like she’s six feet tall. “I’m not scared of Calathea the Cruel.” Her cobalt eyes shine with pride as she utters the Madam’s secret nickname among the trainees. “I’m not scared of anything.”

A crunch sounds behind us, followed by the unmistakably low growl of Madam’s twin tigers, Nix and Niege. Madam is currently bent over, her shiny auburn hair falling around her face in perfect waves as her arm stretches to grab—oh gGods, no.

“And what… is this?” Madam’s emerald eyes pierce us with malice as she holds up Maggie’s copy of National Geographic. Her twin white tigers Nix and Niege appear behind us, snapping at our heels, their fangs dripping with saliva as they force us to step forward.

Maggie goes to speak, and I shoot my arm out, clapping my hand over her mouth before she has the chance.

“It’s mine, Madam.” I lower my eyes with a feigned look of shame. “Margaret was attempting to confiscate it to show you, and I was trying to fight her off when you found us. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” I fall to my knees, pressing my forehead to the dirt beneath her feet. “I promise, Madam, it will never happen again.”

“Is this true, runt?” Madam turns her gaze onto Maggie, and I watch from the corner of my eye as her tiny fist clenches at her side. All she has to do is play along and⁠—

“No. It’s mine.”

My heart falls out of my chest at the beat of silence that follows. Deadly silence. Terrifying silence.

“Nina is trying to take the blame to protect me. It’s mine, Madam. Let her go. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Madam’s eyes flit between us, their murderous sheen sealing our fate before she even utters a word. “So… you’re telling me Seraphina is a liar?”

Maggie’s face goes white. “Wha? No! She was just⁠—”

“So which is it, girl?” Madam advances on Maggie. “Did Seraphina steal the magazine, or is she lying to spare you? Thief or liar. Thief. Or. Liar?”

Maggie stutters, her wide eyes flicking from my face to Madam’s in a terrified frenzy. “I don’t… I don’t⁠—”

“Perhaps this will jog your memory.” Madam turns on her heels and fists her fingers in my hair, then hauls me into air like I weigh less than a feather. She holds a dagger poised just above my right eye, the blade glinting in the sun and promising my swift end.

“Which is it? Thief. or. liar?” Her voice remains eerily calm as she inches the blade closer. It’s just about to touch my eye when Maggie cries out, tears spewing down her cheeks.

“Please don’t! She didn’t do anything wrong! It was me, I swear! Just let her go!”

Madam tuts, readjusting her grip on the blade so the tip of it pierces my right brow, drawing a pearl of blood as she breaks the skin.

“Please!” Maggie falls to her knees as Madam presses the blade deeper into my flesh. I can feel the blade scraping against my skull, pressing into the thin bone separating the steel from my fragile brains. “Please don’t!”

“Such a pretty face, isn’t it?” Madam muses, looking at me like it’s the very first time. Like she just now sees me. “How terrible. Beautiful girls don’t last long in this world.”

My vision fractures as Madam drags the blade diagonally down my face, causing white- hot agony to burst from my every pore as she slashes deep across my nose bridge and into my smile line. Something warm is flooding down my face, but I can barely feel it past the searing pain throbbing from the oozing gash. I can barely see from my right eye, but when I look at Maggie, my heart splinters at the horror etched into her gentle features.

“Nina!” she screams, clawing at the ground as a Mask appears, holding her back by the scruff of her shirt. “Nina, hold on! I’m coming!”

“You’re not going anywhere except the dungeon.” Madam drops the weight of my body, letting me crumple to the dirt. “Take her.”

The Mask grabs Maggie under the arms, hauling her away to be punished in kind. She snarls and bites at the man’s skin, but he barely registers the young girl's attacks as he drags her past the clearing.

I want to run to her, but something is stopping me. It’s this sharp, searing ache throughout my body, pulsing with a life of its own. Holding me to the ground.

“Maggie,” I rasp, fighting to push myself onto my elbows. Thick drops of blood slide down my face and fall to the ground, mixing with the dirt and creating a horrible, slippery sludge. “Maggie.” I fall forward with my arm stretched out to where she’s disappearing over the hilltop.

The Madam kneels beside me in the dirt, brushing the silver hair from my face in what could be mistaken as a motherly gesture. “Oh, sweet Seraphina.” She drags her thumb delicately over my cheek, collecting the tear forming at the corner of my eye. “Why must you be so disappointing?”

Her palm comes down hard on my cheek, and I wince from the jarring pain it sends straight to my skull. “I picked you, girl. Saved you from your disgusting, X- addicted excuse of a mother. Saved you from a life of addiction. Of despair. You should be grateful.” She stands, kicking me in the ribs. Once. Twice.

“Instead, you disobey me at every instance. You align yourself with swill like Margaret L’Amore.” She uses her steel-tipped boot to clobber me in the temple, and stars spark in my vision. “I should have the Mask kill her. If the Code allowed it…”

She sighs, delivering one last kick to my ribs before stepping away. “She will be dead soon, and there’s nothing you can do to save her. Nothing anyone can do to save a sorry excuse like her. She was selected for fodder, Seraphina. This is not the design—-she should have died long ago. She would have, if it wasn’t for you coddling her and getting the other girls to join in.

“You… You’re wrong,” I choke. A smile spreads to my cheeks as Madam’s eyes light with fury.

“What did you say to me?” The tips of her bright red nails dig into her palms, causing pearls of blood to form and drip drip drip onto the grass. “What did you say, little girl?”

“I said… You’re wrong.”

Madam’s boot rears back. But when it slams into my temple this time, I’m blessed with the kiss of unconsciousness.

Hours later, when I’m finally able to stand again, I hobble the distance toward the cabin me and the rest of the girls share for sleeping. My face is still oozing blood, and though I know I’ll probably need stitches, there’s no way I’m going through any more pain tonight. After stopping at the first- aid box and wrapping my face the best I can, I step into the rat dung -dung-infested quarters, desperate for sleep to take this cursed pain away. I shuffle slowly to the back where mine and Maggie’s bunk is situated, and as my eyes snag on the empty top bunk, fear gripping my chest.

Did the Madam do it? Did she kill Maggie?

I’m about to charge right back out before my gaze snags on a tiny thing huddled close to the wall on my bed, piles of carrot red hair spilling over her freshly bruised, tearstained-stained cheeks.

“Nina.” Maggie sniffles, wiping the back of her hand across her face as she stares at the blood-stained bandage wrapped around my face. Her eyes widen with heartbreak, big fat salty tears falling from the skies and staining her tattered tee shirt. “I-I’m so sorry, Nina. I never thought⁠—”

She breaks down into heaving sobs, and my chest cracks at the pain practically seeping from her pores. It’s like I can see it—like I can taste the notes of sorrow zesting the air.

“I didn’t want them to hurt you!” she wails, pulling up her knees and hiding her face. “I thought…I thought if I told them the truth—showed them that you were only trying to be good—that they wouldn’t hurt you. I failed you, Nina. I failed, and now you hate me.”

All I want to do is scoop the tiny girl into my arms and tell her everything will be alright. And so, I do.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I climb into bed and pull Maggie into my lap, brushing the messy curls from her forehead with a shushing sound. She pushes her face into my chest, her stringy arms hanging onto me for dear life as sobs rack her body. “I could never hate you, Magoo. You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world…. You were only trying to protect me. You were being brave. A heck of a lot braver than me.”

I gaze down at her, pulling her tiny body tighter against my chest as her sobs die down. “Plus, I’m pretty sure both of us were gonna get punished no matter what we said. We weren’t supposed to be out in that field in the first place—the magazine was just the cherry on top.”

Maggie’s sobs subside with the last of my words, and she sniffles weakly against my tee. “I’m gonna miss it. That was my favorite one—it had all the best mountains in it.”

I chuckle weakly, glad she’s not beating herself up so much anymore. “Maybe I could get it back for you.”

Maggie sits up so suddenly, she nearly knocks me out cold with the force her head hits my jaw. Too excited to notice, she gazes up at me with hope spilling out from her in a bright pink light. “You mean it? You could get it back?”

“It won’t be for a while, but… yeah, I think I can.”

I’d been hatching my plan to get Maggie’s magazine back ever since I woke up. I’ll have to wait until the Sanctum has their monthly meeting. Only the lowest level Disposers will be guarding us that night, so when they pass out, I’ll sneak down to the storage basement and⁠—

“Nina?”

“Yes, Magoo?”

“You’re squishing me.”

I look down at her, a smirk gracing my lips. “Am I? That’s too bad.”

Maggie crinkles her nose as she tries to wriggle from my hold with all the strength of a tiny bird trying to free itself from my palm. I hug her tighter with a laugh, and she snuggles deeper into me, a giggle of her own escaping her lips as she gives up the fight. “I love you, Nina.”

“I love you too, Magoo.” I brush my fingers through her long red hair, carefully undoing the knots as I go. “By the way… you never did tell me what you wanted to show me earlier in the forest.”

Maggie’s eyes go wide with excitement. She jumps up, rushing over to her bed and grabbing something from beneath the mattress. “I was able to hide it from the Masks—just barely.” She trots over to me, something clenched tightly in her palm.

I raise a brow, holding my hand out expectantly. “If it’s something that bites…”

Maggie rolls her eyes, opening her fist to reveal a perfect white feather. I twist it between my fingers, marveling at how the scales glisten in the moonlight.

Madams in training are not allowed to have possessions—not so much as a piece of pocket lint—so the fact that Maggie was able to hide this gift is quite amazing. Amazing, and dangerous.

I open my mouth to warn her about the repercussions of her actions, but the beaming smile on my face smothers the words in my throat.

“It’s beautiful, Magoo.”

“It’s a dove feather,” she proclaims, reaching out and stroking the feather lovingly. “Because you’re pretty as a dove, Nina. And kind as one, too.”

A smile tugs at my lips, and for a moment, I find myself forgetting all about the rules and repercussions. “Are doves kind?”

Maggie shrugs. “I don’t know. But they seem really sweet from afar.”

I throw my head back in a throaty laugh. “If I’m a dove, then you’re a shrike.”

Maggie snorts. “A shrike? Aren’t those the silly little birds that bounce around on the cypress limbs?”

“Mm-hm.” A smile teases my lips as I think of them. “What? You don’t want to be a shrike?”

“They’re just so… little.” She wrinkles her nose with distaste. “Weak.”

“Shrikes? Weak?” I gasp, widening my eyes comically and causing Maggie to giggle. “Don’t you know how the mighty shrike gets its food?”

She shakes her head, her bright blue eyes lit up with curiosity. “How?”

“Hmm. I don’t knowww… you’ll probably think it’s stupid. After all, shrikes are just silly weak birds, right?”

“Tell me! Tell me!” Maggie insists, clutching at my shirt in a fit of giggles. “Tell meeee!”

I bring a finger to my lips to shush her, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Fine, I’ll tell you… but you have to keep it an absolute secret. Can you do that, Magoo?”

Maggie nods violently, her grin never faltering. “I can!”

“Well…” I clear my throat dramatically. “Shrikes are small, like you said… but they use that to their advantage. They expertly sneak up to their prey, then fly high, dropping them onto thorns and impaling them. Deader than dead,” I say, a manic smile twisting my lips.

“That’s… so cool,” Maggie breathes, her eyes wide with the thread of knowledge I bestowed. “I want to be like a shrike! I want to be able to take down someone like that!”

“Then a shrike you’ll be.” I pull her back down beside me. “Now try and get some rest, little bird. Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to stick something with the pointy end of a dagger. Then, you can do as the shrikes do.”

“You promise?” Maggie whispers, her voice already sluggish with the pull of sleep.

I reach over, hooking my pinky with hers as we both fall into blissful nothingness.

“Pinky promise.”

12

SERAPHINA

“ARE YOU STALKING ME?”

I wake with tears pouring down my face, a heavy pressure on my chest that I don’t know what to do with. I know what I dreamed was a memory, yet the more I concentrate on the details, the faster they slip from my mind, joining the list of things I can no longer remember.

After shoving sweat-slicked hair from my brow, I throw the covers off and stumble out of my bedroom, needing to make sure Maggie is safe. Slowly, I crack open her door, heaving a deep sigh of relief when I see her spread out on top of her mattress. Her mouth is slightly parted in sleep, and I clap a hand over my mouth as a snore pours from her mouth to suppress my giggle.

Satisfied, I close the door and stumble into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as a yawn tears from my mouth. The process of waking up is foreign to me—as is falling asleep—and the few hours I managed to get last night seemed to have made me more tired than before. With half-lidded eyes, I shuffle toward the crusty coffee machine, my hand heavy as I scoop spoonfuls of espresso into the middle partition.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

I jump at the sound of Maggie’s voice, spilling dark grounds all over the counter and floor with a colorful curse.

“Sorry.” A playful smirk tugs at her lips. “I didn’t realize I was so scary.”

“I didn’t hear you come out.” I close the lid on the machine and press start. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than you, I’d reckon.” She plops down onto one of the barstools opposite the counter. “Dream you was not having a good time.”

I cringe as I stoop to clean up the mess. “Did I wake you?”

“Just a couple of times.” She shrugs, and my chest squeezes with guilt. That is, until she says, “I was thinking about pressing a pillow over your face, but I fought the urge.”

“You’re a monster.” I take a seat next to her as I wait for the coffee to brew.

Maggie grins like she doesn’t have a care in the world, her face fresh and clear despite the fact she just rolled out of bed. I eye Maggie’s strange, mismatched outfit with a raised brow. Bright orange leggings and a puke green tank top is definitely a choice to make. “What in God’s left testicle are you wearing?”

Maggie scrunches her nose. “Nobody says ‘God’s left testicle’ Nina. Stop trying to make it a thing.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”

“And you haven’t been watching enough—clearly.”

“I watch enough to get your Mean Girls reference,” I scoff. “Anyone ever told you you’re a real grouch in the morning?”

She sighs heavily, crossing the living room and plopping down onto one of the barstools. “Just this one real turd with silver hair… By the way, your coffee is burning.”

I narrow my eyes, deciding to let the turd comment slide as an acrid scent fills the air.

“Oh, shit.” I rush toward the machine as thick gray smoke billows into the air. Yanking the cord from the outlet, I stare in horror at the thick brown sludge sitting at the bottom of the coffee pot.

“Just go to the café down the street like you always do.” Maggie waves a hand in front of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

I shake my head, turning and grabbing a mug from the cabinet in a final act of determination. “It’s a waste of money. And I refuse to believe I’m incapable of making some damn bean water for myself.”

Maggie giggles. “Bean water isn’t a thing either.”

“Pah.” I turn and pour myself a heaping cup of the dark brown sludge. Coffee shouldn't have this texture. I’m not even sure it’s physically possible.

Not thinking about it, I suck down a mouthful and promptly pass away from the foul taste that infiltrates every one of my senses.

“Ma… Maggie,” I croak, reaching out for her as tears crowd my vision and pour down my face. “It… it hurts Maggie.”

Howling giggles pierce the air, the sound accompanied by several short snorts as Maggie loses her ever-loving shit. “I… can’t believe you… actually drank… it.” She throws her head back, nearly falling from the barstool. “Too stubborn… for… your own good…”

For some reason, a sharp pain echoes in my chest at her words, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. “I don’t need this abuse. I’m going to the coffee shop.”

I grab my keys from the counter, fighting a smile as Maggie’s laughter fills the room. “I’ll be back soon!” I call, locking the door tight behind me.

The chilly morning air bites at my exposed skin as soon as I step outside, and I regret not changing out of my pajamas. My bunny slippers scuff the sidewalk as I take off down the street, practically sprinting around the corner as the cold burrows down to the marrow of my bones.

My cheeks are flushed as I push open the door to the coffee shop. Warmth envelops me, and I stand there for a few moments basking in the scent of freshly brewed coffee while my skin thaws. There’s only one person in line—a tall, well-dressed man—and I happily scuffle to the space a few feet behind him, my eyes perusing the wall of flavors and concoctions while the man prattles off his order.

There’s something familiar about the low timbre of his voice—something that has my thighs clenching as it pours over me like hot honey—warming my bones and sending a shock of electricity pulsing toward my center. I stare at his broad shoulders, a memory pricking the back of my mind as a dark, beautiful aura infects the air around him.

And then it hits me. The man from the bar.

Sensing my eyes, the man turns on his heels, all at once capturing me in an extraordinary blue gaze. A smirk tugs at his sinful mouth as he drags his eyes down my frame, taking in my baggy pajamas, bunny slippers, and all.

“Brandy… are you stalking me?”

The question catches me off guard. I stand there like a blubbering fish, lost for words as his smile widens, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth.

“I’m flattered. But there’s truly no need.”

A frown pinches my brows. “And why’s that.”

“Because…” He takes a step forward until we’re inches from each other. My pulse spikes as he leans low, his lips a breath from my ear as he growls out, “Because… I’m stalking you.”

I reel back, my eyes wide as I search his face for sincerity. He laughs like he just told the funniest joke in the world, turning back to the barista without so much as another glance.

Okay… what the fuck?

I’m about to voice this thought when he steps to the side, not even looking back as he walks toward the pick-up counter. The barista gives me a sugary smile, clearly unaware of the war waging in my mind.

My knees wobble as I step up to the counter, my mind so frazzled I end up ordering the first thing on the menu. The girl smiles politely as she takes down my name, but she holds up a hand when I reach for my card.

“Your order’s been paid for.”

“Oh… thank you.”

“No need.” She leans in and gives me a conspiratorial look. “He paid for it.”

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to look in Orion’s direction. “How sweet.”

“Oh my gosh, I know right.” She grins, shooting a look toward the burly man. “You should totally try to get his number.”

I smile, though it tugs painfully at my cheeks. “I totally will,” I say, knowing it’s a lie. “Thanks again.”

She waves with a girlish giggle, and I trudge to the pickup counter, my heart hammering against my rib cage with each step I take closer to Orion Adair. I stop a few feet from him, our shoulders level, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing as I wait for my coffee. The seconds tick by like eons, each moment that passes more uncomfortable than the next, until finally, I can’t take the stifling silence any longer.

“Thank you.” I grit teeth. “For the coffee.”

Orion makes a sound low in his throat, that infuriating smirk never wavering. “My pleasure, Brandy.”

I clear my throat, then busy myself picking at a hangnail when he says nothing more. “So you’re stalking me?” The question pops from my mouth before I have the chance to stop it, though it has the intended effect.

Orion drags his gaze lazily to me, settling uneasily on the line of my scar. “What on earth would give you that idea?”

I scoff. “You literally just said you were!”

He frowns, rearing back like I just told him I shit fairy dust. “I would never say something so heinous. I’m an officer of the law, Brandy, and I take my job extremely seriously.”

Is this guy for real? “If it was just a joke, you can say that, dude.”

His eyes narrow dangerously as I utter the last word, but his expression is carefully schooled a moment later, leaving me to believe I imagined it. “Trust me, if I told a joke as disturbing as that, I’d own up to it. I’m terribly sorry if I’ve given you a negative impression of me.”

My head swims at the formality of his tone—so different from the beastly thing I heard growling in my ear a minute ago. “You… I don’t… never mind.” I cross my arms and fix my eyes forward again.

Did he really not say that? My head hurts as I try to recall the interaction. So many things become distorted as I experience them that I fear I might have actually hallucinated the whole thing.

We stand in silence for the next few minutes, but when our coffees are placed on the counter, neither moves forward to grab it. Orion turns to me, an unsettling smile plastered on his handsome face.

“It was nice to see you again, Brandy.” Faster than I can blink, he grabs my coffee and pushes it into my hand, his fingertips grazing mine slightly.

My eyes widen at the gentle hum of electricity that flows between us, but just as soon as it starts, Orion pulls away.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small white business card, eyes blazing as he shoves it toward me. “Here. In case you run into trouble.”

I raise my brow, refusing to take the card. “Isn’t that what 911 is for?”

He just laughs. “You’re a smart girl. You know how things work in this city.” His smile drops to reveal the face of a sincere man—an honest man. “By the time any officer would answer the call, there’d be no hope for you if something bad happened. And bad things are always happening in Moriton.”

With a huff, I snatch the card from his hand, and that smile of his returns. “It was nice to meet you… Brandy.”

My hands shake slightly as I look down at the card, though there’s nothing insidious etched onto its face. Just a name and a number—like he said.

With a scowl, I shove the card deep into my pocket to forget about, then hasten toward the exit. I try to keep my mind from the hauntingly beautiful man—from the strange aura swirling from his frame—but every time I try, that smile embeds deeper into my psyche until it’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes.

For the rest of the day, I try to ignore how it makes me feel. Try to convince myself that I’m not curious about the mysterious stranger. That even if I am, it makes no difference—I’ll never see him again.

Yet his presence lingers long after he’s gone.

13

ORION

“OLIVER’S BRAINS”

My cock strains against the confines of my black jeans as thoughts of Seraphina fill my mind. Her flowing silver hair, her untrusting eyes, her perfect pink lips—always pouting and ready for a cock.

The last thought sends me into a mindless rage, and I click on the videos saved to my phone, a frown pulling at my brows as Seraphina’s perfect figure comes into view. It’s not the sight of her that’s causing distress—it’s the five other men in the room with her, their eyes hungry as they strip the clothes from her body.

A few days ago, I was able to retrieve the security footage of the Neon Flamingo on the night Seraphina met up with her client. Oh, I know all about it—how she whores herself out to anything with a stuffed wallet, how her lips twist in a simpering smile as she accepts their cocks.

How she likes it.

My fist tightens around the phone as I reach down to release my cock, rubbing forcefully as the ginger-haired fuck presses his disgusting worm of a dick past Seraphina’s lips.

That should be my cock. Mine and mine only.

I touch myself to the thought of Seraphina, tears falling from her eyes as I fuck the back of her throat, as I make her regret the things she’s put me through.

I should stay away from her. I should forget all about the silver vixen. But every time I try, my blood boils, my skin crawls with ants, and I can’t.

God, I’m fucked in the head.

The thought does nothing to stop me, and before long, my release spews from my cock, coating the screen where Seraphina’s face is tilted back in bliss. I rub my thumb across the screen lovingly, picturing myself pushing my cum in and around her pretty whore mouth.

Mine. My Seraphina.

My muscles uncoil as the video comes to an end, and I lay my head back on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly as images of the pretty little dove swirl in my mind.

I need her—need her like oxygen. If I don’t have her soon, I’m afraid I’ll fucking die.

“Precious little dove.” I drag my fingertips over the screen one last time before shoving the device back into my pocket.

I stand from the bed, grabbing my dagger from the bedside table and heading out of the cabin. Baccus unleashes a morbid cry to the skies, his tiny black body an ink spot against the vast gray. A hollowness sits heavy in my chest as I watch him fly, something inside me wishing—longing—to be up there with him.

With an irritated huff, I walk over to my new motorbike parked out front, throwing my leg over the seat and speeding off into the mouth of the forest.

It takes me over an hour, but I finally make it to Oliver Snow’s townhome as the sun is dipping past the horizon. Vibrant pink and orange hues color the sky, peeking through the usual gray and adding some color to the landscape.

I park in the alley next to his apartment complex, leaning against the cracked brick wall and smoking a cigarette while I wait for the sun to dip. As the shadows lengthen along the ground, I snub my cigarette out on the wall and head inside the building, my steps purposeful as I take the stairs to his floor.

I stop in front of his door. Before I pull out my lock pick, I try the handle—and sure enough, the dumb fuck has left it unlocked. Silently, I slip inside, bolting the door behind me before I delve deeper into the house.

A Nickelback song is blaring from the speakers, smog hanging heavy in the air and zesting it with a sickly sweet skunk scent. My hand covers the dagger at my hip as I step deeper into the house, checking each room before moving on to the next.

I find Oliver in his kitchen, his back to me as he dances around like an idiot, holding a wooden spoon to his mouth like a microphone as he belts out the lyrics. Basil and roasted tomatoes hang heavy in the air, mingling with the billow of steam coming from the massive pot of noodles. In the corner lies an industrial-grade meat grinder, the blades caked in sinew from grinding enough meat to make up the dozens of meatballs lined neatly on the counter.

A shame I arrived before he finished dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs is my favorite.

I stand there staring for several minutes, but the fuck doesn’t even have enough self-preservation to notice when someone is boring a hole into the back of his head.

With a defeated sigh, I grab a stray cup from the counter and launch it at the speaker. The cup shatters as the speaker falls to the floor, a great resounding crash echoing throughout the kitchen as Oliver whips around.

His eyes widen as he takes in my form, raising the spoon in front of him like a weapon.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demands, shuffling to the side where his phone is lying just out of reach.

With a snarl, I launch my dagger at his outstretched hand, grinning when it sinks into his flesh with a disgusting squelch. Oliver screams as blood pours from his hand, a horrified look on his face as he stares down at the blade piecing his palm.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” he cries, ginger hair slicked to his forehead with sweat. “Who are you?”

“My name is Orion Adair.” I grab the knife block off his counter and raise it above my head. “You took what was mine. And now, I’m going to take something of yours—your life.”

“W-what?” His eyes are wild and searching for an out. A miracle. “Why? I didn’t fucking do anyth⁠—”

His voice is cut off as I launch the block at his head. It lands in the center of his forehead, splitting the skin wide open as he falls to the floor, unconscious.

I gaze down at the pathetic heap of human flesh, bending to retrieve the wooden knife block as I replay him sticking his cock into Seraphina’s mouth. Over and over and over.

I bring the block down on Oliver’s head, a red mist covering my vision as I slam it into his skull.

Over. And over. And over.

When I sit back, bloody and heaving and spent, Oliver’s brains are everywhere—on the floor, the walls—even the chrome fridge door is covered with what used to be Oliver Snow.

It brings a smile to my face.

Of course, that is until I remember I have to clean up this fucking mess. I can’t just drag a fully grown man’s remains down his apartment stairwell. But I also can’t just leave him here. He’s apt to start smelling, bringing attention I don’t need or want.

I glance around the kitchen, my eyes snagging on the meat grinder just as a smile lights my face. Perfect.

I pull open every drawer in the kitchen until I finally come across some plastic wrap. Ripping the roll from the box, I head back toward the dead body, scooping Oliver’s brains into a pile before plopping them onto a sheet of plastic wrap.

I wrap what’s left of his head with the rest of the plastic, cringing at the puddle of blood beneath his body. I had planned to take him to the tub and chop him up, but fuck it, I’ll be cleaning a mess either way.

With a serrated knife, I make short work of Oliver's extremities, ensuring each segment is small enough to fit through the meat grinder. His torso is more difficult. I have to meticulously scrape all of his organs—not to mention what seems like miles and miles of intestines—from his body cavity before I can even think about chopping the rest of him up.

Hours later, Oliver is but a pile of ground beef on the counter. For funsies, I take the liberty to shape him into tiny round balls, lining them on the counter with the other meatballs.

I contemplate leaving them there, but my better sense gets the best of me. With a disappointed sigh, I take the remains and flush them down Oliver’s fancy sink, finishing the job with a cupful of bleach and a good, long run of the garbage disposal.

It would be rude of me to let Oliver’s place stink up, after all.

I use the rest of the bleach to clean Oliver’s blood from the kitchen floor, counters, and cabinets. When I’m done, the place looks better than when I came in, and I can’t help but give myself a pat on the back.

If he wasn’t dead, I’d ask him for a tip.

My eyes snag on the regular meatballs still lining the counter, and at that moment, my stomach growls.

No. I couldn’t… Could I?

Deciding they could be tainted by the very air of Oliver’s remains, I also dump those down the sink. My stomach growls in complaint, but I remind myself I wouldn’t know how to cook the raw meat properly, anyway.

I search his fridge, but the fuck doesn’t have anything ready to eat, and his freezer is just as barren. A defeated sigh leaves my mouth as I trudge to the front door, trying my best to ignore the burning in my stomach.

I take one last glance at the apartment before leaving, making sure not one scrap of Oliver is left on the white tiles. Satisfied, I head out and down the stairs, a pep in my step that wasn’t there before.

On my way out of the building, I nearly smack into an elderly woman coming inside. Her arms are full of groceries, and I hold the door open so she doesn’t have to struggle.

“Thank you so much!”

“My pleasure,” I grin. “Can I help you with those bags?”

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart!” She nudges her shoulder playfully against my arm. “I’ll be fine, love. But boy, do we need more men like you in this world!” She bids me farewell, and I hasten down the stairs toward my bike.

It seems even the reaper can do a good deed once every blue moon.

14

SERAPHINA

“RUN”

It’s been a week, and I haven't seen Orion. Admittedly, I’ve been pathetic enough to stop by the coffee shop several times in a day in the hopes I’d run into him again. But every time has been in vain. True to my word, I canceled my clients for the week in order to spend more time with Maggie—which has been amazing and utterly, eye-stabbingly boring all at once. All we’ve done is rot in front of the TV, watching nature shows on an endless loop. But I’ve never seen Maggie happier, so in my mind, it’s worth it.

Still, all the time we spent together doesn’t stop her from pouting as I gather my things to visit Vee and the tigers.

“You promise you’ll be safe?” Her lower lip quivers as she looks up at me with wide, blue eyes. “I heard on the news there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of it. “I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m always worried about… you still have the dagger I gave you, right?”

Maggie nods swiftly.

“If someone breaks in, stick them with the sharp part.”

Maggie laughs. “Just like you taught me.”

“Exactly.” I dig to the bottom of my backpack, fingers wrapping around the pink taser hidden there. I toss it to Maggie, but she doesn’t so much as try to catch it, and it clatters to the floor behind her.

With a sigh, I pick it up, placing it gingerly onto the counter. “Use this if you really need to. It’ll give you a few seconds to get away if you’re really in a pinch.”

“How did we go from worrying about you to worrying about me?”

“Eh. Just the way I’m wired.” I step over and throw my arms around her. She returns my embrace, sniffling lightly when I go to pull away,

“Do you know when you’ll be back?” she asks.

I nod, pulling her into another tight hug. “Tomorrow. I’ll spend some time with you before I go to see Ivan, and then I’ll be back after I see him. Sound good?” I pull back to look at her, the iron grip around my heart easing as I take in the small smile tugging at her mouth.

We say our goodbyes, and I hustle down the stairs and around the corner where my motorbike is parked. The engine roars to life, and I twist the clutch, laughing aloud as I shoot off down the road toward the mountain preserve.

Clouds hang low in the sky, obliterating any rays of light that would have illuminated my path and casting the entire forest in ominous shadows. In addition, a heavy layer of fog creeps along the ground, making my journey twice as treacherous. I lean low, pressing my chest to the handlebars as my bike bucks along the uneven terrain, my knuckles white in a vise grip as I try to keep upright. I’m so incredibly focused on my task, I don’t notice the danger looming a few feet ahead.

And I barrel straight into the rock placed in the center of the path.

My mouth pops in a silent scream as my momentum sends me headfirst over the handlebars, and I can do nothing but watch as the ground closes in. At the last second, I tuck my head, twisting mid-air so my shoulder takes the brunt of the impact.

Pain bursts from my right side as I make impact with the frosted ground, a cry of pain clawing up my throat and desperate to be freed. But I don’t let it.

Taking a few deep breaths in my nose, I shove to a stand, ignoring the blinding pain that shoots down the length of my arm as I gaze around the forest. About ten feet behind me lies the fishing line, the silvery thread glinting menacingly under the shadow of the canopy. And farther to the right past some trampled underbrush, lies my bike.

My heart sinks as I take in the state of it—even from this far away, I can tell it’s utterly fucked. And there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to tow it through the woods without help. I rest my head in my hands, focusing on drawing deep, even breaths—on calming down enough to come up with a plan.

But then the whistling starts.

I snap my head up as the haunting, airy sound fills the clearing. I turn in a circle, my eyes wild as they scan the clearing for the origin of the sound that seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Who’s there?” I demand, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you the one who put the rock there?”

There is no answer, other than another line of whistling—and it’s then that I realize what the tune is. It starts out low, then grows to a forte, each punctuated beat worming its way under my skin and scraping at my nerve endings.

In the night, little doves take flight,

Silver wings soft as fading light.

Once they trilled a gentle song,

But in the dark, their calls feel wrong.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,

For the doves have found their rightful home,

In the night, little doves take flight,

Silver wings shining in moonlight

Once they trilled a gentle song,

Now a warning as shadows grow long.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,

For the devil has taken his throne.

Little doves with wings of ghostly gray,

They sit from their perch—watch the living fade away.

Wide-eyed lovers, when the doves begin to sigh,

It’s time to say your last goodbye.

All at once, it stops.

And then I see it—a person at the edge of the clearing, a heavy black coat strewn over his shoulders, concealing the bulging muscles beneath. A large silver dagger is clutched in his gloved hand, but even that’s not the most frightening part about him—it’s the glowing red eyes of his plague mask.

They glint through the shadows like two menacing orbs, and though I try to look away—to move—I cannot. The stranger turns his head to the side, highlighting the impressive leather beak of his mask, though I’m too focused on the strange branching scar running up his neck.

It looks like… a lightning bolt. The thought fills my head as I take an unwitting step forward. Something deep inside me draws me closer to the masked stranger. Pulling me.

My step crunches against the frozen leaves, but that’s not what brings me out of my trance—it’s his voice. It flows into the clearing, deep and mechanical and not of this world. And it only says one word.

“Run.”

My legs move before I know what I’m doing. Stray limbs whip against my skin as I crash through the brush, my mind blank save for one screaming thought—run. My brain screams for air as I force my feet forward, not caring which way I’m running or where I’ll end up. I only know I have to get away from this crazed maniac.

Just when I think I’ve gained some distance, gloved fingers nip at the ends of my hair, sending a shock of adrenaline to my system and causing my legs to move impossibly faster. But it’s to my detriment.

The tip of my foot catches on a stray root, and I go flying through the air for the second time tonight. I brace for an impact that doesn’t come, my eyes snapping open to find a pair of gloved hands wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me upright.

The fingers tighten, the soft squeak of leather sending a pulse of desire to my core. My breathing quickens at the low laugh that sounds behind me, only to increase as he presses his torso flush against me.

His cock is like steel as it slides across the thin fabric of my leggings. His hips buck, pushing the head against my asshole. My muscles clench, goose bumps covering my exposed skin as a throaty chuckle fills the air.

“You’ve done so well.” He dips his head low until the beak of his mask brushes my shoulder. He takes a deep inhale, letting it out in a decadent moan. “I wonder what I would find if I pushed my fingers up your pretty little cunt? Would you be soaked for me? Dripping, like the dirty little slut you are?”

His hand snaps up, engulfing the front of my throat and applying enough pressure to cut off my airway. My eyes pop as panic lights my veins, my mouth opening and closing as I search for oxygen that won’t come. Not until he lets it.

Holding me in place, his other hand slides beneath my waistband, fingertips inching maddeningly closer to my center. He stops just above the apex of my sex, the cool leather blissful against my heated flesh. Against my better senses, I want him to go lower. I want him to touch me. To take me.

He takes another deep breath, his voice coming out a menacing hiss. “But you’re not just for me, are you? You belong to no one—to everyone.” His fingers dig into my flesh as spots line my vision, the world dipping in and out of focus as my body goes limp in his hold. And I can do nothing—nothing but ache as he holds his fingers just out of reach.

A vicious snarl echoes as his hips thrust, his grip tightening enough to leave bruises. “Why? Why do you let them touch you? Why, when you belong to me?” His voice is uneven, cracking every other word with pure rage. “You are mine, little dove. Your flesh is mine; your touch is mine. Your thoughts, your breath, your existence—all of it belongs to me.”

He eases the grip on my neck, finally allowing me to take a breath. When I do, he nuzzles the mask to the side of my neck in a gesture so loving it’s fucked up. “You’ll see soon, little dove. Soon.”

His hands leave me, and I’m shoved forward, barely having enough sense to splay my hands out before I go face-first into the dirt. I heave oxygen into my lungs, my vision obscured by the tears of relief pouring down my cheeks.

When I finally collect myself enough to stand, the stranger is gone. My knees quake as I gaze around the small clearing, jumping at every rustle and distant animal call, convinced that the masked face will push through the shadows at any moment,

With a shudder, I trudge back in the general direction of my bike. My heart sinks as I take in its sad state, but I force it from my mind as I take off down the trail, determined to make it to Vee’s by foot.

By the time I make it to the circular clearing in front of the mountain face, I’m freezing, frazzled, and bone-tired. I raise my wrist to the lock, only for the wall of rock to slide open, revealing a worried Vee.

“Seraphina!” She steps forward, her mossy eyes taking in the numerous cuts and scrapes marring my skin. “What happened? I was just about to go out and look for you!”

I shake my head, a shiver running down my spine as I think back to my encounter in the woods. I’m not ready to recount it—if I’ll ever be. All I want is to climb into the bath and lie down for a long, dreamless sleep, banishing all thoughts of the intoxicating masked man.

“It was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention and crashed my bike. No big deal.” I smile, though by the expression on Vee’s face, she’s not convinced.

“Suit yourself.” She steps aside to let me in. “But when you’re ready to tell me, I’m all ears.”

I brush past her, a genuine smile finding me as I take in Sviato and Savyne spread out on the couch. The two great white tigers raise their heads as I step closer, the tips of their tails flicking happily as they regard me.

“Hey, guys.” I plop to the floor in front of the couch and run my fingers through Sviato’s fur absentmindedly. Savyne narrows her eyes in jealousy, reaching out with a massive paw and smacking me away from her brother.

I roll my eyes. “This is why I have two hands,” I murmur, reaching up with the other to give Savyne some pats as well. Vee appears a few minutes later with some Valerian tincture, and I take it gratefully, fighting a scowl as the heinous taste coats my mouth.

“When’s the last time you slept, Seraphina?”

The question is the same as always, yet I feel like I need to be honest with her this time. “Five days.”

Vee tuts, her eyes crinkling with sympathy as she reaches out, squeezing my shoulder in a weathered hand. “Are you remembering?”

I stare at a spot on the floor, a rush of emotion welling behind my eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know. The dreams… they don’t make any sense. And when I wake, I can’t remember a single thing about them.” I hold my head in my hands, exhaustion curling my shoulders inward. “I’m worried, Vee. I’m worried I’m slipping. Things keep happening—things I don’t even know are real. I’m scared—I’m scared that…” The rest of the words won’t come. I’m scared I’m going crazy.

Without a word, Vee pulls me into her arms, hugging me tight as a sob threatens to break free. She rubs her palm over my back in soothing circles, a gesture I know is taking its toll on her. But she doesn’t let up—just keeps holding me, giving me something to ground myself.

I don’t realize when it happens, but eventually, I drift off in Vee’s arms. It’s not the sleep I long for, but it’s something—and for that, I’m grateful.

Although, that masked man lingers in the shadows of my mind. Waiting to pounce.

And I know it’s only a matter of time.

15

SERAPHINA

“SLEEPWALKING”

Cold… it’s so cold.

I wrap my arms around my chest as the wind whips my bare skin, the scent of wet earth and cypress heavy in the air. Cicadas chirp their song, lulling me into—wait, that’s not right.

My eyes spring open at the same time fear grips my chest, icy fingers curling into my mind as I look around at the forest clearing. How… why am I here?

I look down and gasp in horror at my lack of clothing, at the bloody cuts oozing from my bare feet. I don’t feel them, though—don’t feel much of anything other than sheer and complete terror.

I must have sleepwalked… it’s the only thing that makes sense.

When I was younger, I would sleepwalk nearly every night. I’d wake in random places—sometimes dangerous—with no clue or reasoning as to why I’d moved from the bed.

But this… this is something new. I’ve never stripped my clothes and gone for a romp in the woods at night. Not willingly, at least.

A shudder runs the length of my spine as I recall the man in the plague mask. If he’s out here, then I could be royally fucked, especially since I have nothing to protect myself with.

Of course, no sooner than the thought passes does that creepy-ass whistling start again.

“Motherfucker.” My eyes go wide as I spin in a slow circle, surveying my surroundings. I come to a halt when I see him peeking out from behind a tree, the sight of him causing my blood to heat as my flight mechanism takes hold.

“Who are you?” I don’t bother covering myself—he’s seen it all by now. Instead, I take a step toward him, ignoring the shooting pain in my soles as sharp twigs crunch underfoot. “What do you want from me?”

The whistling halts, only for the sound to be replaced with a malicious chuckle.

“I. Want. Everything.”

He moves faster than I can blink. In a moment, he’s upon me, wrapping his gloved hands around my arms and tugging me flush against his chest. Smoke and cloves assault my senses as I breathe him in, though it’s not unpleasant. On the contrary, it's one of the most intoxicating things I’ve ever breathed in.

His hand wraps around the back of my neck as he holds me there, his breathing rapid in the still of the night, no sound save for the slice of his dagger as he unsheathes it.

“I forgot to give you something.” His voice is all sin and seduction, the sound causing a blanket of fog to rest over my mind. “Something to remember who you belong to.”

Searing pain bursts from my hip as my mouth pops, my lips spread in a silent cry as he drags the tip of his blade deeper into my flesh. Warm blood pools down my leg, the sensation heightened by the cold blast of air on my exposed flesh.

“Mine,” he growls, pressing his face to my neck and taking a deep inhale. He pulls his hands from me like it pains him, his movements erratic as he takes a few shaky steps back. I can only stand there and watch, my mind at war with my body, with the sensations he’s able to draw from it.

He retreats to the shadows he came from, leaving me with one singular thought swirling through my mind.

What the actual fuck?

16

ORION

“MALICIOUS ADJUSTMENTS”

I yank the mask from my face, sucking in the cool night air before pulling a cigarette from my pocket, itching to replace the fresh oxygen with something more familiar. I take a deep drag, the cherry-red tip casting harsh shadows across my face as I stare up at Seraphina’s apartment window.

The strap of my duffel bag cuts into my shoulder from the sheer weight of the thing, but I barely feel it. All I know—all I am—is a man possessed. Something in Seraphina’s essence calls me to her, draws me in, and makes me lose all sense of right and wrong. It makes me want to hunt her. To have her, to fill her… to take every fucking piece of her and break it down to dust.

Because as much as I want to save Seraphina, I also want to destroy her.

My blood pounds in my ears as I flick my cigarette to the ground, crushing it under my heel until it’s nothing more than a dark smear on the sidewalk. The sun will rise soon, and if I waste any more time out here, Seraphina will likely come home and discover my plans.

A smirk lights my face as I take the steps toward the entrance, the bag light as a feather as adrenaline courses through my veins.

It's time to make some adjustments to sweet Seraphina’s apartment.

17

SERAPHINA

“RUBBER DUCKIE, RUBBER DUCKIE”

I find my way back to Vee’s lair just as the sun crests over the horizon, cold and muddy and miserable from my trek through the forest. I find my clothes discarded near the clearing in front of the mountain, my face heating as I snatch them up and yank them over my ice-cold skin. As the material falls over my flesh, I’m reminded of the masked man’s touch, and my blood heats.

I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t still be thinking about it. About him.

Shaking him from my mind, I press my wrist to the rock wall, hoping the scraping sound doesn’t wake Vee. Silent as a mouse, I skitter to the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief when I don’t come across Vee. I turn the water as hot as it will go and step under the stream, my eyes closing in bliss as my body begins to thaw.

Against my will, my mind wanders to the man in the forest. I hear that strange mechanical voice in my mind as clearly as if he were in the room with me, but instead of terror, it only elicits a deep throbbing in my core.

My hand slips down to my sex, my head leaning back against the tile as I swirl my fingertip around my clit. This is wrong. All wrong. But fuck, it feels so good.

I clamp my hand over my mouth as I come, doubling over and coating my hand in slippery arousal. For a moment, I imagine it's the masked man who’s making me come, and my body convulses with a fresh wave of pleasure.

Spent, I slide to the shower floor, resting my forehead on my knees as the last of my orgasm runs its course. Gentle quivers wrack my muscles as the water pelts down my neck and back, the sensation so blissful I almost nod off.

My body falls to the side, my eyes springing open as a jolt of pain emanates from my hip. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I stand from the shower, not even bothering to turn off the water as I walk to the mirror.

So it really wasn’t a dream…

My mouth falls at the symbol carved into my hip, at the angry pink flesh spreading from what is unmistakably a crescent moon. It’s only an inch long from tip to tip, though it stands out against my pale skin like a beacon. A brand.

My fingers shake as I prod at the sensitive spot, wincing as fresh blood pools from the wound. It’s not large, but it’s deep—and it will undoubtedly leave a scar.

As if I don’t have enough already.

My throat constricts as I grab the first-aid kit beneath the sink. The antiseptic burns, but it’s nothing compared to the fire behind my eyes or the wildfire in my veins. I slap a dressing over the wound and leave the bathroom, the spot on my hip pulsing with each step.

I yank on a pair of leggings and simple black tee and head into the kitchen, gentle clanking sounds telling me Vee is there before I see her. I stop a few feet from the island, chewing my lip as she busies herself over the stove.

“And where did you go last night?”

I swallow hard, my eyes pinned to her back. “Nowhere.”

“Hmm. Two panicked tigers told me otherwise.” She finally turns, hitting me with a piercing stare. “I do not enjoy being awoken by two great beasts jumping in my bed, Seraphina.” Her tone is severe, but her bloodstone eyes shine with worry, causing my chest to constrict with guilt. “Where did you go? And why?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I just woke up in the middle of the forest. I think I sleepwalked.” I decide not to mention the parts about the masked man and lack of clothes. There’s no reason to give the poor woman a heart attack.

She looses a heavy sigh, pulling the frying pan from the stove and dumping a heaping serving of eggs and bacon onto a plate. “I’m afraid that may have been my fault, then. The Valerian tincture…”

“Don’t worry, Vee. I’m perfectly fine. See?” I spin in a circle, forcing a teasing smile onto my face. I should tell her it wasn’t the tincture—that I used to sleepwalk constantly when I was younger—but again… I don’t want to cause her undue worry.

She smiles, passing me a plate of steaming goodness. I snatch it with a hurried “thank you” and scurry to the island where I promptly shove the food down my throat.

“Seraphina!” Vee shakes her head in dismay at my animalistic display, an unused fork held limply in her hand. “This is getting ridiculous.”

I give her a closed-mouth grin, my cheeks puffed with the amount of eggs I have stored away. She sighs tiredly and turns to grab herself a plate, taking a seat next to me while taking small, civilized bites of breakfast.

When we’re done, I give Sviato and Savyne their morning meal and head into the living room to help Vee with her weekly cleaning. Vee moves to the record player in the corner of the room, her fingers moving swiftly through the titles before selecting a vibrant Jackie Wilson album. Baby Workout blasts from the speakers as Vee spins in a circle, her mouth pulled into a rare smile as she sways to the tune.

Her energy is so infectious, I find my own hips moving to the beat, my feet dancing closer to Vee. She reaches for me, and we dance in a circle as the chorus breaks out, laughter filling the dim space with light and joy.

When the last note rings out, Vee throws her arm over my shoulder, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. She turns her head slightly, giving me a smile warm enough to rival the sun. “Thank you, dear. I needed that.”

The record skips to the next song as she pulls away, her hips still swaying as she reaches for the duster. She passes it to me as she grabs a mop and broom, and we continue our cleaning in silence.

I’m reaching up to dust the last shelf full of ducks when the song changes again, the melancholy notes of “To Be Loved” filling the large space. A sniff punctuates the chords of the song, and I snap my head toward Vee, surprised to find her close to tears. Her misty eyes are fixed on the rubber duck in her palm, shoulders quaking with the effort to hold in her cries.

The emotion is so raw—so foreign coming from Vee—that I merely stand there staring for a few minutes, trying to wrap my head around the sight.

“Vee?” I whisper. “Vee, are you okay?”

She snaps upright, eyes wild like she forgot I was in the room. Like she forgot where she was for a moment. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Of course I am.” She places the duck gingerly onto the shelf. “Just lost to a memory.”

I wait in silence, my chest cracking wide at the faraway look in Vee’s bloodshot eyes. She reaches up, resting her hand just out of reach of the row of rubber ducks, a wry smile twisting her wrinkled mouth.

“I bet you think I’m crazy to keep all these stupid toys,” she murmurs, carefully wiping a speck of dust from one of the ducks’ bills. “I never did tell you why I collect them, did I?”

“I don’t think so.” I keep my voice low in an attempt to seem disinterested. Vee is like a spooked clamshell—only ever opening her heart at rare, inconsistent times. One wrong word and she’ll close up, locking away her secrets until the next blue moon rolls around. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it, though,” I add, giving her a timid glance.

She chuckles, her eyes misting as she looks down at the yellow duck in her palm. “It’s probably too boring a story for a girl your age. Too wishy-washy.”

I shake my head in earnest. “Tell me about the ducks, Vee. Don’t you dare hold out on me now.”

She throws her head back in a throaty laugh, the sound bringing light to the space filled with so much shadow. When she stops, there’s a brightness to her gaze that wasn’t there before. “Alright, I’ll tell you. But don’t blame me if I get a little… emotional.” She turns her nose up at the last word, though her eyes betray her.

I turn my gaze to the shelf filled with oddities, pointing at one with a pirate hat. “You can start by telling me about that one.”

Vee shakes her head, her mouth twisting into a sad smile. “It’s not necessarily the ducks themselves, but what they represent.”

“And that is?” I lean forward, giving Vee my full attention.

She looks to the side, her eyes shadowed with memories of the past. “The first man I loved—the only man—he gave me one of those silly things the first night he kissed me.”

I open my mouth to ask, but she shakes her head, reading my thoughts. “The original duck is long gone. But even now—even all these years later… Whenever I see one of those stupid ducks, I have to keep it. It helps me remember him. Remember the things we had. The love we shared.”

She looks so sad, so tortured, I’m almost too scared to ask. But I have to. “Who is he?” I ask. “The man?”

Vee smiles, but it’s not a happy one. “Whatever he is no longer matters, I’m afraid.” She turns her eyes to her lap. “He died when I was sixteen.”

Pain clenches my heart as I look at her face, so worn by a life of hardships. Of heartache. “I’m so sorry, Vee.” I long to reach out and touch her, comfort her in some way. But I know my touch will only make matters worse for her.

She shakes her head, a frown pulling at her brows as the song comes to an end. “It was long ago. Long enough that it shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t… sting.”

“Some wounds can’t be healed by time.” I step toward her, deciding to risk it and grab her hand. Her head snaps up, though the emotion I expect to see is replaced by a deep, swirling gratitude. I’m not sure what Vee went through in her past. I only know that right here, right now, she needs someone to lean on.

“Come on.” I tug her by the hand toward the couch. “Let’s watch one of your shitty—I mean, distinguished—black-and-white movies.”

Vee lets out a weak chuckle but still squeezes my hand and lets me lead her to the couch. The tigers join us, sensing the sadness oozing from Vee’s pores. Even Savyne cuddles up to her, giving her arm a gentle lick and nuzzling her giant head against her chest.

She gets lost in the film not too long after, and though I wish I could follow her, my mind is stuck on something far more sinister. It doesn’t help that Vee picked out an old Western, that each actor with a face covering brings an image of the masked man to the forefront of my mind.

While Vee begins to relax, I fall deeper into my inner turmoil. I’m filled with so many questions I don’t know where to start—although there is one thing I’d like to know now more than anything.

What is he up to right now?

18

ORION

“DATING ADVICE”

I stand on the street corner, puffing a cigarette with a hoodie pulled low over my head. I was able to make my… additions to Serpahina’s apartment without any interruptions, and overall, I’m thrilled with the results. Several cameras have been expertly hidden around her apartment, as well as bugs to pick up on her conversations, but my favorite part by far is the crawlspace I managed to hollow out beneath the floorboards—one that leads to the space beneath her closet.

As I recount my success, sleep pulls at my eyelids, reminding me I have not slept in over three days. However, I still have to do something before I allow myself that pleasure.

It’s morning, and for once, the sun shines high in the sky, illuminating the filth lining the alleyway near Jake Robinson’s apartment. Gritting my teeth, I pull out my phone, my chest lighting with rage as I take in the video that’s been playing on repeat in my mind for the past week.

The ginger freak spews his disgusting load down Seraphina’s throat, and not a second later, she’s lifted into the air by the dark-haired one—Noah—as Jake steps forward, palming his cock. Heat pricks the back of my neck as I watch him stuff his disgusting cock inside her, nearly crunching the phone in my fist as her head drops back in bliss.

What a fucking little whore. Enjoying everyone’s cock but mine—letting them look at her, touch her, cum in her.

My entire body shakes with rage as I watch the video to completion, though by the end, my cock is tenting my pants as I imagine my own hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing the life from her as she convulses around my cock.

“Fuck.” I shove the phone into my pocket. I head up the stairs of Jake’s apartment complex, my dagger burning a hole into my hip. An elderly woman exits as I reach the top of the steps, and she’s nice enough to hold the door open for me.

I give her a nod of thanks, glee replacing some of the rage in my blood as I take the elevator to Jake’s floor. I rap twice on his door, then slide out of the way of the peephole, pressing my back to the wall and drawing my dagger from its sheath.

“Coming!” a deep male voice calls, the sound followed by a flurry of footsteps. He opens the door without a thought, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at his foolishness.

Jake peers out the door, too fucking stupid to even look to the side. He shrugs, then starts to pull the door closed, but I shoot my foot out, the tip of my leather boots stopping the door in its tracks.

Jake's eyes widen as he finally notices me, holding a hand over his chest as he looks me up and down. “Jesus. I didn’t notice you there.”

“So it seems.”

He raises a brow, causing his fluffy white robe to shift, exposing parts of himself I never wished to see again. “Is there something you need, or…?”

A malicious grin tugs at my mouth as I shove the door open, causing Jake to stumble back. He raises his hands with an alarmed expression, mirroring every step I take toward him with one back.

He slams into the wall at the far end of the room as I draw my blade from my pocket, unable to hide my merry smirk any longer. “You’re Jake Robinson.”

A statement, not a question—though the peon nods his head like it was. “That’s right. Who the fuck are you?”

I tilt my head, adjusting my grip on the handle. “Does it matter when you’ll be dead soon?”

Jake inhales a shuddering breath. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. So why don’t you take your creepy-ass smile and your knife and get the fuck out of my room before I call security?”

I take another step, my grin widening. “I don’t think you realize what’s happening here. I’m not the one who should be worried.”

We’re only a few feet apart now, and I take the time to really look at my victim. He’s not terribly attractive—but not ugly, either. The bulging muscles straining from the thin robe tell me he spends enough time in the gym, though even his physique isn’t that impressive.

He looks like a big toe.

The thought fills me with fury. This is the man who made her cum like that? This is the worm she allowed to touch her that way? The one she threw her head back for as he fucked her ass?

No longer. Sweet Seraphina belongs to me and only me. Anyone who dares to touch what is mine will meet the same fate.

I raise my dagger, ready to shove it through the piece-of-shit’s brain, when a thought comes to me. “You. You’ve fucked her. Tell me what she likes.”

Jake balks, his eyes widening on the glinting blade of the dagger. “W-who? What are you talking about?”

I roll my eyes. “Seraphina Valez. You fucked her. You know what she likes when she’s being fucked. I want you to tell me.”

He shakes his head, his pupils blowing. “I don’t… I don’t⁠—”

“Tell me, or I’ll slit your throat now.” I twirl my dagger between my fingers, the glint in my eyes telling him I speak the truth.

He gulps, looking off to the side. “Seraphina… yeah, yeah, I remember her. She’s Ivan’s girl.”

“Wrong answer.” I rush forward, pressing the edge of the blade to his neck and drawing pearls of blood to the surface of his pale skin. He gulps, raising shaky hands into the air.

“I-I’m sorry, man. I don’t know what you want from me. Ivan just told me he wanted to watch a few buddies fuck his girl. That’s all.”

His girl. The words echo through my mind, scraping the inside of my skull and filling me with enough rage to flood the fucking ocean. “What does she like, Jake? I’m not going to ask again.”

His throat bobs as he looks toward the closed door at my back, a silent plea for someone to burst in and save him. But no one will.

“Answer me!” I dig the blade deeper into his Adam’s apple.

“Fuck, I don’t know!” His chest rises and falls rapidly. “She… she liked when I bit her neck, I think. Oh, and there’s this little spot at the back of her ass that she just loves⁠—”

I drag my blade across his neck, a wet gurgling noise filling the air as Jake chokes on his own blood. He slumps to the floor with wide eyes, crimson pouring through the hands grasping at his neck. I spit, the taste of bile heavy in the back of my throat as I watch the life leave this square piece of shit.

“Too much detail.” I ram the blade through his right eye as rage crests in my veins. All the adrenaline leaves me as his body slumps to the floor, his mouth gaping and eyes glassy. Fuck. Too quick.

A growl rumbles through my chest as I yank the blade from his head, and I slash wildly at his face and torso, desperate to get rid of some of the bloodlust running through my veins. I hack and slice until his skin hangs from his bones in oozing strands, until his eyes are pulverized and his lips spread back to bare disgusting yellow teeth.

I carve his heart from his chest last. I leave it, warm and oozing in the palms of his hands like a gift. An offering to the gods above—the only ones who listen anymore. The gods of death.

I take one last look at my masterpiece—at the oozing heap that was once Jack Robinson—and a manic smile spreads my lips.

Two down, three to go.

19

SERAPHINA

“MONSTER IN THE CLOSET”

The golden sun is sinking past the horizon by the time I make it to Maggie’s and my apartment. The bruised sky casts elongated shadows across the pavement as I walk toward the door, a searing pain shooting up my calves with each step.

It took several hours just to walk back to the place I had left my bike, then another two to patch it up enough to make it rideable. My entire body is spent, and all I want now is a hug from Maggie and a long, hot shower.

As soon as I push open the door, I’m awarded with the first of my wishes.

“Nina!” Maggie cheers, cutting off my oxygen as her arms tighten around my neck. “I’m so glad you’re home! I was watching the news and they… they found another body!.” She pulls back, her brows creasing as she takes in my sad state. “What happened? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Images of a man in a plague mask flash in my mind. “I crashed my bike last night—I’m fine, before you start freaking out,” I say. “It was just a bitch and a half to get it running again. I’ll be fine after a hot shower.” And possibly a lobotomy.

Maggie narrows her eyes but still steps back, allowing me inside. I gaze around the apartment, noting the thick layer of dust coating each surface. The coffee I picked up for Maggie the other day is still sitting on the counter untouched, causing a well of worry to open up in the pit of my stomach.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “See any good stuff on TV? Besides the dead body, I mean”

Maggie shakes her head, gazing forlornly toward the uncharacteristically silent screen. “Does it matter? I’ll never see any of it in person.”

Thoughts of a shower are dashed from my mind as I take in Maggie’s expression—noticing for the first time how dim her aura has become. Instead of her usual vibrant pink, the light pulsing from her shoulders has dulled to a pale, dying hue.

“That’s not true, Magoo. We’ll see them one day, I promise⁠—”

“How could you promise something like that?” She interrupts, her voice a cracked whisper. “How could you, when you’ve known me as long as you have?” She lowers her eyes to the floor. “I’m broken, Nina. Scared of my own shadow, scared of living. I can’t even leave this fucking apartment to get coffee, too scared I’ll have a panic attack, and I⁠—”

Her voice is cut off as I pull her tight against me. Silent sobs rack her tiny frame, but I just hold her tighter, giving her something—someone—to ground herself to. Just like she’s done for me.

“We’ll figure this out together, Maggo.” I run my hand down her hair in soothing strokes. “If you fear, I’ll be your courage. If you break, I’ll cut my fingers on the pieces to put you back together. And if you’re lost, I’ll follow you into the dark—I will sit by your side and hold your hand until we make it out. Together. Always together.” I rest my forehead against hers. Maggie’s tears slip down her face, only for me to reach out and brush them away. She reminds me so much of her younger self when she cries—her blue eyes big and wide and innocent, but also confused—so confused as to why the world could be so cruel.

It’s Maggie’s one true fault. For all her experiences, all the horrors she’s been through, she will always be too pure to fully understand why.

When her sobs subside, I pull back to look at her, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Did you sleep last night?”

She shakes her head softly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I tried. But I kept having nightmares—that you were gone, and someone was hurting you, and I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

“Oh, Magoo…” I grip her shoulders, staring deep into her watery eyes. “That will never happen.”

“I-I know.” She sniffles. “It’s just my stupid brain.”

“Your brain is anything but that. Unhinged? Yes. Stupid? No.” I place a kiss on her forehead that makes her giggle. “Come on—let’s get your crazy ass in bed.”

She resists for half a second, then lets me tug her toward her bedroom. I open the door, gesturing her inside with a low bow to the sound of another giggle. She sits squarely on her bed, and I put my hands on my hip with a stern expression.

She rolls her eyes but still lies back on the mattress. I grab a blanket and throw it over her, tucking her into bed like I used to when she was a child.

“You’re too much, you know that?” She laughs, the intoxicating sound growing as I pat her lightly on the head. “I’m not a dog, Nina.”

“No, you’re right—much more like a bird. A shrike, to be exact.” A smile teases my lips as she snuggles deeper under the blanket until only her eyes are peeking out. “Good night, Magoo.”

“Good night, Nina,” she whispers, her eyes already beginning to droop. I pat her fondly on the knee and stand from the bed, careful not to make any noise as I shut the lights off and close her bedroom door.

A yawn tears from my mouth as I stumble toward my own bedroom, though I know sleep is far, far away still. I take a quick shower and hop into bed with a romance book, my trusty dagger nestled snugly on the pillow next to mine.

A few hours pass, my eyes are dry and swollen, and my wrist is cramping from holding the book up, but I still don’t feel like I can sleep. Sighing, I place the book onto my bedside table, switching it for a bottle of sleeping pills I’d bought on the street last year. My insomnia was the worst it’s ever been—so bad, I had started to hallucinate things. Vee’s tincture wasn’t doing shit, and so in desperation, I drove down to the Blue Line district and snagged a bottle of the powerful sedatives off the first dealer I could find.

I’ve taken them sparingly—though they allow me to sleep, I’m not fond of the grogginess I’m left with when I wake. I prefer my mind to be sharp—alert and ready for any threats that could appear.

But I’m so tired…

Sighing, I pour two little white pills into my palm, swallowing them without a drop of water. Unease swirls in my gut as I turn off the light and lie back in bed, closing my eyes against the imposing shadows.

Maybe if I count sheep?

I begin the silly ritual, counting each fluffy white creature as it jumps over a gate made of pure gold. One thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven—that’s how many damn sheep I count before the effects of the sedative take hold.

But once it does, I’m gone.

Cricccckk… crickkkk… cricccckk…

My eyes snap open, followed by a lurch of nausea as the ceiling squirms above my head. My vision is fuzzy, my head heavy and throbbing with the rapid pulse of my heartbeat.

Crrrrick… crrrick…

I sit straight up, clutching the blanket to my chest as the noise rings out once more. I thought I had dreamed it, but…

I hold my breath, listening for the strange scraping noise. Instead, a new tapping sound fills the quiet of my bedroom, freezing the blood in my veins. Snagging the dagger from my pillow, I lurch off the bed, my legs wobbling terribly in an effort to keep me standing.

My fingers tighten around the handle of my dagger as I stoop down, half expecting a monstrous hand to reach out from the shadows beneath my bed. I press my ear to the floor, eyes wide as I search the dark—but there is nothing. I straighten with a frown, holding on to the wall as a fresh wave of dizziness causes my vision to swim.

“Fucking sleeping pills.” I hold the dagger with one hand and the wall with the other as I stumble out of my room.

Quietly as I can, I open the door to Maggie’s room, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when I see she’s still passed out. I creep inside, checking under her bed before doing a thorough sweep of her bathroom and closet. Still nothing.

For a few minutes, I stand in the center of her bedroom, listening for any more strange noises—but it’s eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

Wiping the sweat from my palms, I switch the dagger to my other hand and head back to my bedroom, keeping my ears open and steps silent in case that noise sounds again.

Convincing myself I’ve imagined it all, I dive back under the covers, pulling the quilt up to my chin and shutting my eyes resolutely. The sedative is still coursing through my veins, so I should be able to go back to sleep if I⁠—

Tap… tap… tap…

“Okay, what the fuck?” I sit straight up as the sound scratches the inside of my skull. This time, I know I haven’t imagined it. This time, I know it’s real.

This time, I know it’s coming from my closet.

I launch myself from the bed, clearing the distance to the exit in one jump. My pulse screams as I rip the door open, scrambling from my bedroom with my dagger clenched in a trembling palm. I lean my back against the door to close it, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I reach down, locking it from the outside.

This cannot be happening.

I shake my head, desperately trying to stave off the fog of the sedative. If someone is in our apartment, then me and Maggie could be in danger.

Maggie…

My eyes dart toward her closed door, a war raging in my mind. If I wake her and tell her about this, she will never feel safe here ever again. There will be nowhere she’ll be able to call home, no place she’ll ever find peace.

I’m not even sure if what I heard was real, or if it was a product of my fucked-up, drug-adled mind. But if it is real… Maggie is in danger.

I can’t call the police. And not even because of the corruption—the Moriton police department is swamped with homicides, drug trafficking, and more—if I called in, asking them to send out someone because I heard a noise in my apartment, they would laugh at me. Which leaves me with one last option.

Not giving myself the chance to rethink it, I rush toward my backpack sitting on the counter, ripping out the crumpled business card Orion had given me. The numbers are bleeding and crinkled, but I’m able to make out the symbols enough to call him.

I dial him on the landline. It rings and rings, and for one heart-wrenching moment, I’m sure he’s not going to pick up.

“Hello?” The low timbre of his voice crackles through the speaker, and my whole body sags with relief. Although, he does sound like he just woke up…

“Hey, it’s… Brandy. I’m sorry for calling you so late.” I cringe when I get a look at the time on the oven clock—3:30 a.m. “Are you busy right now?”

I try to keep my voice even, but for some godforsaken reason, it comes out breathy and uneven. And it’s not even from the fear of thinking I have a stranger in my apartment—something about the husky tone of his voice has done something to me. Something that has my thighs clenching and my blood heating as he speaks.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, far more alert than a moment ago. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay—I think. I feel stupid for calling. It’s just… I think there’s someone in my house.” The last part comes out barely above a whisper, and my eyes unwittingly jerk to my locked bedroom door. “I heard… something. Could you possibly come over and check it out?”

“I’ll be over right away.” There’s some shuffling in the background—probably him pulling on clothes—and my face heats with embarrassment. I don’t get the chance to apologize, though. “I should be there in ten minutes. Can you hold out till then?”

“Thank you so much, and yes.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m about to hang up, when I realize something. “Wait, I… didn’t give you my address.”

An easy laugh rattles through the speaker. “It’s easy enough for me to trace where you’re calling from, Brandy. Landline, right?”

“Uh… yeah,” I murmur. Just how in the hell does he know that?

“Don’t worry, I’m not some crazed stalker.” He laughs, the joyful sound assuaging some of my anxiety. “It’s the sound of it. I can always tell a landline from a cell phone by the clarity of the voice coming through.”

“Oh… Of course.” I force a breathy laugh. “That makes sense.”

“If you’re worried, barricade yourself in the bathroom until I get there. And it never hurts to be holding something to protect yourself with—a kitchen knife, or a screwdriver.”

“Will do.” I gaze down at the dagger in my palm. “I think I have a kitchen knife around here somewhere.”

He laughs, the sound rich and sinful and sending a rush of blood to my center. “See you soon.”

The line goes dead.

20

SERAPHINA

“RETURN OF THE MONSTER”

I place the phone down, then head to the couch, never taking my eye off my bedroom door. I sit with my back to the front door, barely blinking for the whole ten minutes it takes Orion to get here. When he does, I throw myself from the couch, stumbling in my haste to open the front door.

I wrench it open, having to jut my chin up, up, up to look Orion in the face. His eyes are piercing in the shadows of the hallway, day-old stubble covering his jaw and adding to his attractiveness.

“Brandy. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.” His smile is teasing, and I can’t help the flush it brings to my face. I step to the side to let him inside, his signature scent of smoke and cedar invading my nostrils, giving me a head high.

“Thank you so much again. I’m sure it’s nothing, I just needed someone to check it out,” I say, hating the way my voice comes out all husky. Keep it in your pants, Seraphina. He’s here to make sure no one murders you in your sleep, not to shove his parsnip in your fairy garden.

I shake off that last disturbing thought as I follow him into the kitchen, my eyes tracking the corded muscles along his back and arms, at the way they strain against his thin black tee shirt with each slight movement. I wonder what it would be like to run my tongue across his⁠—

“Did you happen to see the intruder?” He interrupts my indecent thoughts as he gazes around the kitchen.

“Um, no.” I wring my hands together as I look toward my bedroom door. “I just… heard something. Like a scraping or tapping noise…” Orion raises a brow, and heat creeps up the back of my neck as I realize how ridiculous it sounds aloud. I can practically hear the question in his mind: you called me over because you heard a noise? Really?

But to my surprise, he doesn’t say anything of the sort. His face fixes into a deadly serious expression, eyes thinning and scanning the room for threats. Without a word, he takes off in the direction of Maggie’s room.

”That’s my roommate’s room!” I whisper-shout, racing after him as he wraps his hand around the handle. “I already checked it, but⁠—”

The man barges in, doing a swift sweep of the closet and bathroom like I had earlier. Miraculously, Maggie sleeps through all his rude clomping, only occasionally opening her mouth to let loose a mighty snore.

When Orion is satisfied, he hastens from the room, closing the door silently behind him. Still not looking at me, he heads into my room and does the same thing, not even questioning why the door had been locked.

He comes out a few minutes later, a deep scowl etched on his face.

“What?”

“When did you say you first heard the noises?”

“Around 2:30.” A blush creeps up my neck at the intensity of his stare. “Why?”

“And have you been… drinking tonight?” he asks, completely ignoring my last question.

What the fuck? “Are you trying to insinuate that I’m making up someone breaking into my house?”

“It wouldn’t be the craziest thing a woman did to get me into a room with her.”

My veins flare with anger, and I have to dig my fingernails into my palms until I draw blood to stop myself from kneeing him where the sun doesn't shine. “I think you should leave now.”

Orion shrugs nonchalantly, though the aura pulsing from his shoulders deepens to a swirling black hue. “Well, I didn’t see any signs of a break-in. If you heard anything, it was likely some old pipes settling.”

“You think?” My voice shakes, but if Orion notices, he doesn’t mention it.

“I’m positive.” The smile spreading across his face is the same one he gave me that night in the bar, and like that night, I’m deeply unsettled by the sight. Something so beautiful shouldn’t be so… sinister. Should it?

Orion makes for the door, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his gray sweats. “Well, call me if anything else happens. Or if you just need someone to keep you company.”

I’m about to tell him I have Maggie for that, but before I get the chance, he slides out of the front door, snapping it closed behind him. I stare at the closed door for several minutes, trying to convince my heart to cease its wild thrumming.

It does me no good.

With a sigh, I trudge into my bedroom, checking once more beneath my bed for good measure. A prickle of anxiety runs the length of my spine as I climb under the covers, and though I try for several minutes to get comfortable, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone in this room.

This is ridiculous. I was going to be the next Madam. If there is an intruder, he has far more reason to be scared of me than I of him.

With that thought, I forcefully shut my eyes and focus on getting some much-needed rest. My dagger clenched tightly in my palm beneath the sheets. I’m just about to slip into nothingness when I hear it—not the gentle tapping from earlier, or even that awful scraping—something far worse than the two combined.

Whistling.

In the night, little doves take flight,

Silver wings soft as fading light.

Once they trilled a gentle song,

But in the dark, their calls feel wrong.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,

For the doves have found their rightful home,

In the night, little doves take flight,

Silver wings shining in moonlight

Once they trilled a gentle song,

Now a warning as shadows grow long.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,

For the devil has taken his rightful throne.

Little doves with wings of ghostly gray,

They sit from their perch—watch the living fade away.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you cry.

Do not linger, or you will die.

When the doves begin to sigh,

It’s time to say your last goodbye.

As the tune comes to a close, I stand from shaking legs, my fist a vice around my dagger as I walk toward the closet—toward the origin of that horrible sound. As I reach out, the song starts from the beginning, and I nearly lose my nerve.

Taking a deep breath, I throw open the door, my dagger raised high and ready to slash whatever sick fuck is hanging out in my closet.

Only, there’s no one inside.

Instead, a black flip phone lies on the ground, its screen lit up like a beacon as it vibrates, screaming the tune from its speakers as someone calls it over, and over, and over.

When I realize the whistling is just a recorded ringtone, some of my anxiety falls away. But it’s only for a moment.

Because this means someone was in my apartment. It means I’m not crazy—the noises were real. And if they were real…

I stoop, snatching the phone and answering before I have the sense to think it over. I wait for the person on the other side to speak, but there’s nothing on the other end besides some creepy, heavy breathing.

“Hello?” My heart threatens to burst from my chest. “Hello? Who’s there?”

Nothing.

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t say something.”

Still nothing.

I sigh, about to pull the phone from my ear when the bone-chilling voice shakes from the speakers.

“There’s a monster under the bed.”

I hang up so fast my thumb cramps. Swallowing hard, I back up from the closet, not even realizing when my calves hit the bed frame. And then I’m reminded what the creepy voice said—that there’s a monster beneath the bed.

I cringe, holding on to my dagger for dear life as I wait for a pair of hands to reach out and snatch my ankles. When nothing happens, I crouch down, every cell in my body screaming that I definitely, under no circumstances, want to look under the bed.

My breathing picks up pace as I press my cheek to the floor, searching the shadows for anything out of place. At first, I don’t see anything.

But then my eyes adjust to the dark, and I see him.

The man in the plague mask.

I’m too shocked to move for a moment. He’s not doing anything—just lying on his stomach, chin resting comfortably on interwoven fingers—staring at me. If I wasn’t so damn terrified, I might describe the sight as adorable. But I am, and it’s not—not when I don’t know who this is or what their intentions are.

Gaining my bearings, I rush forward with my dagger, aiming where the intruder's artery should be. Somehow, he anticipates the attack and moves back just in time. The blade swipes the air, and I fall forward onto my face with the force of my attack, giving the intruder several precious moments to escape from under the bed.

I scramble to my feet, but by the time I do, he’s already at the front door. I get one look of his mocking wave before he slips away—having enough decency to close the door softly before he makes his great escape.

Though it’s useless, I launch my dagger at the door, a scream of rage trying to claw up my throat. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I try to steady my breathing, concentrating on pushing the rage deep down where it can’t harm anyone. Where it can’t harm me.

For a few moments, I just stare at the door the masked man slipped out, racking my brain trying to figure out how he got in and evaded not just me, but Orion searching the apartment.

I contemplate calling Orion again, only to shove the thought from my mind as soon as it comes. He already thought I was crazy and just hearing noises. Now that the intruder is gone, and there’s no evidence, he’ll no doubt conclude I’m some crazy coot.

He’ll never take me seriously again.

Shaking my head, I move to the front door and lock it tight, triple checking the stupid thing even though I know in the back of my mind he didn’t get in through there. With anxiety pricking the back of my neck, I head back to my bed, crawling under the covers yet again.

The only thing that gives me comfort is the fact that I survived the Sanctum. And if I can live through that, I can handle some creepy stalker in a plague mask trying to get his rocks off by scaring me.

I fall asleep with the dagger in my hand all the same.

PART TWO

THE REAPING

21

SERAPHINA

“TOO MUCH GUTS”

12 years ago…

I stand in front of the lavatory’s shattered mirror, tracing the deep pink groove of my scar as my gaze goes in and out of focus. The tile beneath my soles is as cold as the air, signaling the arrival of winter and another three months of utter hell.

I know this winter is going to be particularly bad. We lost our best forager, Zenith, during the summer trials, and because of that, we were unable to harvest and store enough rations for the remaining eight of us.

Zenith… poor Zenith…

My chest squeezes with physical pain as I recall the six months ago. All nine of the remaining girls had completed the summer trials—all but one. All we had to do was unpick the shackles binding our ankles to the bottom of the lake and swim to safety. It seemed easy enough—we had all been trained so extensively in lock picking, and even Maggie had come to master it. But with the added pressure of being underwater with no oxygen… some of the girls started to crack.

I was the first of the Madam’s in Training to undo my shackles and swim to the surface of the lake, but was unable to help any of the others, forced to watch and wait as only seven of my eight sisters resurfaced.

After thirty agonizing minutes, I was allowed to retrieve Zenith from the bottom of the lake. But what I found wasn’t her anymore. Zenith's pretty face was bloated and purple, her tongue hanging from her mouth unnaturally like she tried to bite it off in her last moments of insanity. And her legs—God, her legs.

I shudder as I remember the mangled flesh around her ankles—carved down to the bone in some places where Zenith tried to claw her way free of the iron shackles. Even till the end, she fought. She fought and fought and fought, and I was not going to allow her life to end in vain. If no one else would, I would live through this. I would survive, if only to be able to carry on her memory. Zenith’s, and the other four girls we lost in the plast eleven years.

Ebony, 3 months. Dehydration.

Samantha, 4. Accidental poisoning.

Carissa, 8. Knife wound.

Monica, 8. Knife wound.

And now, Zenith, 12. Drowning.

I recite their names, ages, and deaths so I might etch their memories into my mind. So much is lost in our training that, I’m afraid if I don’t carry out the silly ritual, I’ll eventually forget them entirely.

I’m broken from my thoughts as someone jiggles the door to the tiny bathroom. I whip around, deftly undoing the lock and preparing a speech on people needing to have some damn patience when my eyes catch on flaming red curls.

“Nina! I’ve been looking all over for you!!”

I blink at the light shining from her bright white smile, wondering where all her energy comes from this early in the day. “You okay, Magoo?”

She rolls her big blue eyes, pulling at my arm impatiently. “Of course I am. But I won't be if we don’t get going!”

My eyes go wide as I look at the iron clock hanging on the wall of the lavatory. Is it really almost seven? “Frick. Let’s go.” If we’re late to the first of the winter trials… I don’t even want to imagine the punishment we’d face.

I silently promise to thank Maggie for this later as we race through the woods toward the clearing, the icy morning air burning our skin and reddening our cheeks. Frosted grass crunches underfoot as we stumble into the clearing, and I take Maggie by the hand as I lead her toward the lineup. We take our place beside the other six girls silently, hanging our heads when Madam sends a piercing glare our way.

“Nice of you to join us, girls.” She plucks a gold gold-crusted watch from her pocket and flips it open, her cruel emerald eyes taking in the ticking hands. “You made it just in time. How lucky for you.” She snaps it closed with a sneer and pockets it before stepping into the center of the clearing, holding her pointed chin held high to the frost-covered skies. “The first of the three winter trials will now commence.”

A sense of dread fills the air as three white-masked men step from the clearing, their bulging muscles barely hidden behind their fine fine-tailored suits. Masks.

Faster than I can blink, they’re upon us, their strong arms reaching out to restrain. Each one of us fights, kicks, and screams, but it doesn’t affect them in the slightest. With a nod from the Madam, each Mask pulls out a syringe, injecting it into their captive’s neck.

I don’t even notice when mine goes in—too busy keeping eye contact with Maggie, praying she understands the words my eyes are screaming at her. Don’t be afraid. Keep your head. I’ll protect you. No matter what happens, I will protect you.

And then everything goes black.

I wake sometime later, my eyes crusted closed and a pressure on each of my extremities. I pry my eyes open, my vision swimming at a blinding fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling. I try to lift my head but, find my neck immobilized by a thick leather strap, then try to move my limbs. No luck there, either. In addition to the restraints, headphones are fitted to my ears, blanketing the world in silence and causing panic to grip my chest. My chest rises hard and fast, but I force myself to calm down, shutting my eyes and focusing on my breathing. I take deep, slow breaths in and out of my nose, praying it will be enough.

When I know I’ve calmed down enough, I crack my lids open—only to slam them closed when I realize what’s dangling mere inches above. I hadn’t noticed them earlier due to the light and my panic, but now that I’m thinking clearly, there’s no question what they are.

Twin spikes—each tip positioned the perfect width apart to puncture both my eyes if it were to drop even six inches.

I long to reach out and hold Maggie’s hand, to tell her everything is going to be okay, like I thought it would be earlier. But being here, not knowing what this next test is, I truly don’t know if I’ve lied to her.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp crack, and I know the Madam has turned on the headset.

“By now, the last of the drugs administered to you should be making their way out of your system. In five minutes, the first of the winter exams will begin. Listen closely as I explain, for I will not be repeating myself.”

Madam clears her throat, clearly pleased by our restraint. “By now, you may have noticed the spikes positioned above you. For this test, you will be asked questions pertaining to the Sanctum and your roles as the Madam—should you progress enough to be given that esteemed title. For each question you answer incorrectly, the spikes will lower. Answer enough incorrectly, and well…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. “If there are no questions, we will begin.”

As always, we remain silent. Once, a sister actually did have a question about a trial, and Madam repaid her by cutting out her tongue. She’s still alive, but the light she used to hold in her bright green eyes died that day.

“Good. Best of luck to you all.” Her voice holds none of the sentiments her words do. “We will now begin.”

The spikes jostle horribly as the machine roars to life, but I don’t have time to think about them—don’t have time to think about anything else as the Madam’s voice rings out in my ears.

“When was the Sanctum founded?”

“1803,” I whisper, praying the other girls are of sound mind to answer. She’ll start with easy questions, but I’m sure they will only get more difficult from here on out. My heartbeat slows with each question I get right—with each time those horrid spikes stay right where they are—and for a moment, I think I’ll pass this trial unscathed.

“What was my original name?”

Wait. What? My mind reels as I try to recall this piece of information—but for the life of me, I can’t remember a single time the Madam actually told us her real name.

“Calathea Crel.” I whisper the name the Sanctum gave her, praying the question was a trick and this is the way she wanted us to answer.

The spikes lower, and panic twists my gut. No. No, no, no.

My own panic is cut short as a piercing scream punctuates the silence, the pitch of it loud and clear enough to pierce the noise-canceling headphones. And I know that scream—I know it well.

Arabella.

I jerk my head to the side as much as I can, horror gripping my chest at the sight that greets me. Arabella is strapped to her table like me, but those horrible glinting spikes have actually punctured her eyes—a result of answering too many questions incorrectly.

Her body convulses on the table, and the spikes dig farther into the pulverized organs, causing blood to pool down her face in fat red tears in one of the most horrifying sights I’ve witnessed. I want to reach out—to hold her and calm her down.

But the next question is starting.

“Stop,” I whisper, missing the beginning of the question as my mind fractures. “Stop! Stop it! Please, you have to STOP!”

But no one listens. No one cares.

“...wastes the most resources?” Madam’s voice rings out strong and true, and I know poor Arabella is doomed. I don’t even bother trying to answer the question—I just keep staring at my sister and —watch the spikes lower one last time.

“NO!” I scream. “NO, NO, NO! Arabella, you have to calm down! You have to answer the next question!”

The spikes drop. Her body jerks, falls limp—and I know Arabella is gone.

“No-o-o-o,” I wail, the sound interrupted by great, heaving sobs. “Noo. Please, no. It’s not real. None of this is real.”

Not real, not real, not real.

But it is, and Arabella refuses to rise. And I know—I know, against all my efforts, wishes, and prayers—that we’ve lost another.

“Well done!” Madam cheers through my headset, her voice much too cheery for the circumstances. “Those of you living have passed the first of the winter trials. You should be proud of yourselves.”

As the Masks come around, unshackling our restraints, I can’t help but think how not proud I feel. There’s a hollow pit in my abdomen where my stomach used to be, and it takes everything in me not to retch as I finally sit up.

“So you see, girls… Being a madam is not only about being intelligent. You have to have some guts, as well. Otherwise, you end up like Arabella.”

Maggie vomits onto the floor, and the Madam tuts in disgust. “Too much guts, girl.”

She turns to the rest of us, her expression proud, but severe. “All of you get cleaned up and ready for dinner in the main hall. We’re having a celebration.”

As we all trudge silently back to our quarters, the bells high above the Sanctum begin tolling. Bells of death.

I make eye contact with Maggie, neither of us willing to voice what they mean. Tonight, we will have a celebration—of life, and of death—and at the end of it all, we will stand around a bonfire, watching as Madam burns Arabella’s body and all of her remains. It’s just the design of the Sanctum.

But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

22

ORION

“DASTARDLY PLANS”

I stare up at the raw wooden planks from my crawl space beneath Seraphina’s floorboards, twirling my dagger between my fingers as I contemplate the psychotic nature of my actions. I suppose it should be cause for concern—the lengths I’m willing to go to be close to her. To stalk her. To terrify her. Half of me wants to pull her close, to love and cherish every inch of her. But the other…

The other wants to hurt her. To make her pay for making me fall this way. For fucking up my head, weaving into the thread of my existence, linking every single wretched thought to her.

It’s driving me mad. Madder than I’ve ever been before.

Shoving the knife back into its sheath, I rip my phone from my pocket and bring up the feed to Seraphina’s bedroom. For once, her body doesn’t convulse with terrible dreams—the product of the heavy sedative still coursing through her system.

Her dagger is clenched tight in her fist, and I can’t help but chuckle as I remember how close she came to slitting my throat with the thing. If I wasn’t prepared, she would have killed me for sure—but I know how dangerous the little dove is—and that alone is how I was able to escape her apartment.

Luckily, the entrance to the crawl space is hidden at the back of a locked maintenance closet—the remnants of a crevice workers used to utilize in order to tend to the ancient copper pipes winding throughout the walls in the building—so I was still able to enter her apartment after ‘Officer’ Orion left.

After a few minutes of watching the feed, I’ve had enough of hiding under her floors like a creep. I shove my phone in my pocket and press my gloved palms to the ceiling, gritting my teeth when the small hatch doesn’t immediately give way.

Fighting a curse, I flex my back muscles, putting everything I have into getting the damn hatch open. Eventually, the square of floor lifts away, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I carefully slide it out of the way. The cutout is just large enough for me to squeeze my shoulders through, though getting the lower half of my body out takes some skill due to the cramped conditions of Seraphina’s closet.

Immediately, I’m enveloped in heavenly notes of caramel, vanilla, and something nutty—like pistachio. It’s intoxicating, pure Seraphina, and before long, my cock responds to the stimuli.

Gritting my teeth against the friction, I push the closet door wide and step to the foot of her bed, my vision swimming as the strength of her scent grows.

Seraphina’s mouth is slightly parted, lips twitching as small snores explode into the silence. She shifts to her back, and her tank top gets caught beneath her, causing her breasts to pop free of the material.

My breath catches in my chest as I stare down at her perfect, perky tits. The cool air shivers over her skin, causing her nipples to harden to rounded peaks, and my mouth waters at the thought of taking them into my mouth, licking and sucking her until she’s mad with desire and whispering depraved things in my ear.

Unwittingly, my hand trails to my zipper, freeing my cock. It springs from the confines, a pearl of pre-cum sliding from the tip of the silver ring at the tip as my fantasies turn darker. I jerk my palm down the throbbing length, my eyes rolling back as thoughts of Seraphina fill my mind.

Her lips around my cock, her pussy spread wide and dripping with need for me and me alone. I imagine the way her eyes will roll back the first time I split her open, how she’ll scream for me as I carve more of my marks into her skin. I picture her wanting me just as desperately as I want her, and it nearly causes my undoing.

I’m sick. I’m deranged. I’m obsessed with her in ways a person never should be.

Hissing through my teeth, I rip my hand from my cock, destroying my orgasm. Just as Seraphina belongs to me, I belong to her—all of me. Meaning, I won’t be wasting a drop of cum unless it's on or in her.

My mind fractures, and suddenly I’m standing by her head, the head of my cock pressed against her lips. With a groan, I rub it across the two plush pillows, nearly cumming when my cock ring slips between her lips. Fast asleep, Seraphina puckers, giving that small silver ring the gentlest of kisses, and it takes everything in me not to press inside her mouth.

Not now. Soon, though. Very soon.

A fluttering of wings brings my attention to her window, surprised to find Baccus perched on the windowsill, his beady eyes dark and judging. He taps his pointed beak against the glass, the sound of it growing louder with each persistent smack. Snarling, I pull my cock from her and zip it back into my pants, using every last ounce of restraint I have to climb back to the secret hatch in her closet and out the crawlspace.

When I’m back out on the street, I pull up my video feed, my eyes locked on Seraphina’s sleeping form. Bacchus crows from above, circling twice above my head before landing on my shoulder. He nips at my ear fondly, and some of my irritation seeps away as I reach up, stretching him behind the neck.

“I forgive you, you bastard,” I grumble, despite the smirk pulling at my mouth. After all, it was probably a good thing Bacchus interrupted—who knows what would have happened if I kept going the way I was. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing, but it’s one I have no intention of losing.

Seraphina will be mine, one way or the other. Whether she knows it, or not, her life, her soul belongs to me—to the reaper she’s made me into.

I exit the video feed of her room, pulling up the gangbang video I’ve been watching on repeat for the past few days. Just as it always does, I’m filled with a blazing fury—a flame that burns so hot, it consumes my very bones, eats away at all my carefully constructed control and leaves me with nothing but bloodlust.

Without thinking, I hop into my truck and speed off into the night. Right in the direction of Eli Stark's house. It may be stupid, and it may be reckless, but there’s only one thing that really matters.

Making Eli pay for touching my little dove.

23

SERAPHINA

“BEING THAT HOT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL”

When I wake, I’m still shaken from the encounter with the masked man. I know I’ll be unable to put on a brave face for Maggie, so instead, I slip out of the apartment before she wakes, my mind on a massive vanilla latte from the shop around the corner.

My mind is a mess of memories and fragmented dreams as I stumble into the coffee shop. I’m so lost in my own head, I don’t notice when I run smack dab into the back of a tall, muscular man.

He whips around, and my heart stops as I take in the cut features of Orion Adair. A strand of wavy black hair falls over his forehead, and it takes every ounce of control not to reach out and brush it back.

I bet his hair is soft. Soft and silky and⁠—

“Brandy. What a pleasant surprise.” The smile he gives me reduces me to a drooling puddle, and for a moment it’s all I can do not to let my jaw hang open in awe.

It should definitely be illegal to be this hot…

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” My eyes are stuck on his lips—puffy and red, like he’s been biting them recently. Maybe a girlfriend? The thought causes my stomach to flip strangely, and I quickly shake it away.

Orion laughs like I told the joke of the year, and I find myself smiling back, caught up in the intoxicating sound of it. His aura swirls in magnificent dark hues, the sheer beauty of it catching me off guard once more.

“How did everything go last night? Any monsters under the bed?”

His words—so similar to the one the masked man uttered last night—has my heart thumping in my ears. But that’s ridiculous. “No problems.” I drop my eyes as I utter the lie. “I slept like a baby.”

“Wonderful.” He says the word with such gusto, but that smile of his doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m so glad to hear it, Brandy.”

I nod, a strange guilt clenching my chest as he uses that fake name I gave him so long ago. The man woke out of a dead sleep to come and look around my apartment just because I was worried about a noise. Surely, he’s earned enough trust for me to give him my real name.

I clear my throat, heat creeping up my neck as I force myself to look him in the eyes. “I guess I should probably tell you now… my real name’s not Brandy.”

“What?” He gasps dramatically. “No.”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny the smile tugging at my mouth. “Shocking, I know. It's just… I’m wary of strangers.”

“As you should be.”

We stare at each other for several seconds that seem to stretch into hours, but when he blinks, the spell is broken. “Well, I should be going…” Still, he doesn’t move from the spot.

“Shouldn’t you…?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” His pupils blow as he stares deep into my eyes. “Call me if you run into trouble, okay?”

“It’s a promise.” I stick out my pinky for some godforsaken reason. We both stare at the gesture with wide eyes as I wait for the ground to swallow me whole. But then, he does the strangest thing—he hooks his calloused finger with mine.

“Pinky promise,” he says, leaning in and kissing his thumb. His eyes are bright and expectant, holding a dare. With a huff, I duplicate the motion, and he takes the opportunity to place a kiss square between my brows.

I reel back with a horrified expression, and he throws his head back in a laugh. “Sorry. I just always wanted to do that.”

“What?”

“Kiss your forehead.” His face breaks into a smirk. “You have a very kissable one.”

I frown. “You’re really weird—has anyone told you that?”

“More so than people who haven’t.” He smiles like that’s a good thing. “At least I’m memorable.”

Well… I have to give him that. “You’re right. I’m sure I’ll be seeing this interaction in my nightmares tonight and thereafter. Good day,” I say, trying and failing to walk away from him. He grips my arm, wheeling me back to face him, our lips coming within an inch of the others.

“We weren’t done.”

“Really? I was.” I smirk cruelly, ripping my arm from his grip. “Better places to be and waste my time.”

“You’re a cruel creature, Seraphina.”

I stop mid-step, realizing with horror that I never actually got around to telling him my real name. “Wh–what did you say?”

“You heard me, little dove.”

My blood runs cold at the nickname—at the same one the man in the woods used. But it can’t be. It’s not possible. He’s a police officer, for God’s sake.

Or is he?

He grins, and I’m brought back to that night at the Drunken Hound. The way he looked so calm—like a coiled viper, waiting for the perfect moment to snap. “Your heart is racing.”

“Is it?”

He leans in, brushing his lips ever so gently against the tip of my nose, my forehead, then my mouth. My eyes widen in alarm as his lips part, revealing perfect straight white teeth bared menacingly. Before I have the good sense to react, he lunges forward, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and biting down. Hard.

“Unfh!” I rear back on instinct, causing his teeth to drag along my inner lip, cutting a shallow gash. His eyes roll back in his skull as he pulls my whole lip in his mouth, sucking greedily on the blood pouring from the wound, animalistic sounds rumbling from deep in his chest as he drinks me in. “Unfh!”

He finally pulls away, his tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth where a drop of my blood is dripping to his chin. It’s a sinful sight—one that shouldn’t have my body reacting in the way it does.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispers. He reaches for me as his pupils blow, chasing away the sky-blue living in his gaze—and I’m helpless to do anything but melt beneath his molten touch. “Taste.”

His lips press against mine hungrily, his arms encircling my back as he clutches me against his chest possessively. His tongue swirls against mine expertly, coating my own taste buds in the metallic tang of my blood.

What the fuck am I doing?

The thought breaks the spell this haunting man put me under and I rear back, pressing my palms forcefully against his chest in an attempt to gain some much-needed space. “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him like I wasn’t just sucking his face off a moment ago.

Orion tilts his head, his dimple popping as a smirk tugs at his lips. “Do I make you nervous, Seraphina?”

“Wha—No!”

“Then why is your heart still racing?”

“It’s not.” I glare at him, finally pushing out of his grip and backing up a few feet for good measure. “Stop avoiding the question.”

He steps forward, closing the space I worked so hard to get. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, don’t you think?” he whispers, reaching out and taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I was doing this…”

His mouth crashes against mine again, and though I try to fight against it, my mind turns to sawdust as raw electricity crackles in my veins.

But just like that, he pulls away, taking his intoxicating lips with him. Without a word, he exits the coffee shop, not even bothering to look back. I’d almost believe the kiss never happened, if it weren’t for the jealous looks the barista is currently giving me.

I stare at the door he disappeared through, my fingers reaching up to touch my lips.

I know it with absolute certainty now—Orion Adair is a dangerous man. One I should definitely stay away from.

So why does that thought cause me distress?

I step through the apartment door, my lips still buzzing from the kiss at the coffee shop. Maggie raises her head over the back of the couch, her brows furrowing as she takes in my expression.

“Did something happen at the coffee shop?”

I open my mouth, but my words get caught in my throat. What do I tell her? That some random guy kissed me? She wouldn’t buy that, and then I’d have to explain how I know Orion—but more importantly, I’d have to tell her why I felt comfortable enough to let him put his lips on mine. I’d have to explain how he gained my trust, and that means telling her about the intruder.

No. For just this once, I’ll have to lie to Maggie. “Nothing happened. I just slept weird.”

Maggie’s frown eases, replaced by an ecstatic smile. “You slept? That’s great, Nina!”

I plop down next to her on the couch, resting my ear on her shoulder. “Eh. I had to use the benzos, so I’m not sure if that counts.”

She elbows me teasingly. “A win is a win, Nina. A win is a win.”

“I trust your judgment.” I lean my full weight against her as I allow my eyes to rest. “You gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

“Always! You gonna see Ivan?”

“I am. The tigers need new flooring in their room, and Ivan asked to see me for double my rate, so I said yes.”

She wraps her spindly arms around me, tugging me tight against her as her body begins to shake. “Just be safe, okay Nina?”

I pull back to look at her. “Of course. I just said I would… is everything okay, Magoo?” Sure, I’m used to her worrying sometimes, but lately it’s been every time I go out. I wonder if it has something to do with that serial killer…

“Look, I’ll even pinky promise.” I hold the finger out but Maggie doesn’t take it, only buries her face in my shoulder and hugs me tighter. “Swear you’ll come back, Nina. You have to come home, no matter what happens. You have to remember.”

“Remember what, Maggo?” I ask.

But she just shakes her head, a sad little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she releases me. “Nothing. I’m sorry I’m such a worry-wart lately. Just… be careful tonight, okay?”

“Always.”

I frown as Maggie stands from the couch, not even looking back at me as she disappears into her bedroom. Taking that as my cue, I head into my own room and start getting ready for my meeting with Ivan.

I have to put out one fire at a time.

24

SERAPHINA

“THE BAD DOCTOR”

I park my bike in front of the Drunken Hound, my veins buzzing with excitement as I remember the last time I stopped for a drink here. I can’t help but scan the crowd for Orion’s broad shoulders, a pit of disappointment opening in my chest when the only face I recognize is Axel, the bartender.

I take my usual seat in the corner, giving Axel a polite nod when he looks my way. A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I scan the bar one last time, doubling over each stranger’s face in case I accidentally missed him.

But that’s not possible. I could never miss Orion in a crowd.

I’m about to turn back around when my gaze does catch on a familiar face—but it’s not the one I was looking for.

Dr. Kebler.

The name enters my mind so forcefully, it nearly knocks me off my stool. I have foggy memories of his cruel eyes staring into my own as he stands above me, as he pushes a strange swirling substance into my veins.

What the fuck is the Sanctum’s psychiatrist doing in a bar? This bar in particular?

I don’t have time to question it, because it’s at that moment Dr. Kebler looks my way. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in my expression, thin lips parted and revealing his horrible, yellowed teeth. Though the rest of my memory is fractured, I can see that wicked smile clear as day—can remember how he would only show it off when I was screaming in agony.

I’m at the exit before I even realized I’ve moved. Axel is shouting something in the distance, but it’s too muddled for me to make out. My pulse is pounding in my ears, rivaling the thumping of the bass, the reckless beating of my heart.

I shove the door open and stumble into the night air, my throat constricting until it’s nothing more than a straw for me to suck air through. Gasps ring out as I shove past several people, ignoring their offerings of assistance as I stumble blindly toward my bike.

Just feet from it, my vision splinters, the ground spins out from under me, and I fall to my hands and knees. I run my fingers through the cool dirt, my eyes widening as the ground rushes up to greet me. My gaze flits over each individual speck of sand, my vision magnifying until I can see the very molecules that make them up.

A blast of color invades my vision, swirling and dripping and filling my veins with a pleasant warmth. And suddenly, I’m not looking at the ground anymore—I’m staring at the stars. Only, they’re not stars at all.

My soul levitates from my body, and all at once I’m looking at myself, crouched and sobbing into the dirt. I float out into the atmosphere, nothing but sympathy for that poor girl stuck on the ground. Starlight explodes from my pores, and my mouth widens in awe as I flip my hand over, admiring the way the moonlight passes through.

I look back down to that sad girl, frowning at the small black crow perched next to her shaking frame. It pecks at her hair, flapping its inky wings irritably when she refuses to acknowledge it.

All at once, the crow morphs into a skyscraper bathed in gold—dripping in gold. A giant crater forms in the center, only it’s not a crater. It’s another mouth, opening to swallow me whole.

And there’s those teeth. Dripping, pointy, sharp teeth reaching, calling to my flesh.

My body begins to sink back to the earth, and I scream up at the sky, at the stars that were supposed to call me home. I’m dragged, down, down, down, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t breathe, can't blink, can’t move.

CANTMOVE

“Someone help me!” I scream, my throat raw and bloody. “Someone please HELP ME.”

HELP ME!

H

E

L

P

M

E

!

!

“Help me!” The mouth mocks. “Help me help me help me! She’s bleeding! Someone please help!”

I slip into the deep cavern of its throat, closing my eyes as terror rolls over my skin in waves. I wait for the pain, the shredding and gnawing of sharp teeth, but it never comes.

Opening my eyes, I find myself crouched on the dirt a few feet from my bike, my fingernails cracked and bloody, caked with wet soil from where I’ve been tearing at the earth. I suck in a breath, my entire body shivering with the aftermath of my hallucination.

I don’t have time to recover, though. The bar doors bang open, and I don’t have to look to know who it is that’s followed me into the night. With Dr. Kebler’s gaze boring a hole into my back, I push to a standing position and race the last couple of feet to my bike.

My engine roars to life and I kick off, hanging low over the handlebars as I speed off down the street and away from the man who used to make my life a waking hell.

I never thought I’d see the day where going to see Ivan is a better alternative.

25

SERAPHINA

“PAINTING THE ROOM RED”

I step through the doors of the Neon Flamingo, a heady tang of musk and spilled liquor hanging in the air. My nerves are buzzing, and the smog that floats through the air slips down my throat, choking out what little oxygen I manage to gulp down.

Not bothering to search for Ivan, I stumble toward the bar, the flashing neon lights causing my vision to pitch, my footing to falter. Somehow, I manage to procure a drink from the bar, though the only thing I remember is the burn as the toxin flows to my stomach.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I wheel around, the hand wrapped around my empty glass raised and ready to smash into their face.

“What are you doing?” Ivan’s eyes widen at the furious snarl spreading my lips, and he takes a step back, his hands raised in defense. “Easy, little doll…”

The world comes back into focus as I lower the glass to the bar top, blinking up at Ivan’s terrified chocolate gaze. “Sorry… I didn’t realize it was you.”

“I would hope not.” His dark eyes search my face for any of the rage that had been there moments before. “Are you ready?”

I nod once, allowing him to take my hand and lead me toward his usual table at the back of the club. The bass pounds in time with each step I take, and by the time we make it to the booth, my skin is crawling with millions of tiny ants.

I gaze at each of the four faces situated around the booth but am unable to identify a single one due to the ridiculous Halloween masks they’re donning. There’s a clown, a scream mask, a werewolf, and⁠—

My heart shudders to a halt as I place eyes on the last mask. No. No, it’s not possible.

Yet, no matter how many times I try to blink it away, there’s no mistaking it—the glowing red orbs, the messy stitching along the seams of the arched leather beak—it’s exactly the same. A perfect replica of the mask the man who chased me through the woods was wearing.

I take a step back, only to be stopped by Ivan’s hand on my lower back. He leans close to my ear, his hot breath eliciting a horrified shudder as he whispers, “I hope you’re ready to play, little doll.”

I stumble forward as Ivan shoves at my back, unwittingly heading right for the man in the plague mask. My chest clenches as I plop down next to him in the booth, unable to hear anything over the violent thrum of my pulse.

The only thing that gives me any semblance of peace is this man’s scent—unlike the man from the woods, this one smells of soap—pleasant floral notes that waft up my nose, easing the pressure in my chest.

Of course this isn’t the same man. I’m just being paranoid because I saw Dr. Kebler tonight… that’s all.

The man in the plague mask reaches over, resting a gloved hand high on my thigh. My body pulses with desire as his fingertips ghost higher up my leg, digging into the flesh just south of my pussy.

“What’s your name?” I flutter my lashes seductively as I lean in, breathing in his scent once more just to make sure. The man doesn’t answer, but an animalistic sound shudders from behind the thick leather that has the hair on my neck rising.

“Is someone taking a liking to Anwir?” Ivan squeezes in on my other side, forcing me to press the entire right side of my body against the masked stranger. My chest heats from the contact, especially when he uses the newfound closeness to press his fingertips against my clit, but I don’t have time to enjoy it as Ivan speaks again.

“You probably remember Noah.” Ivan gestures to the man in the werewolf mask. “I invited Eli, Jake, and Oliver as well, but they never responded to my texts. You might have been too much of a woman for them.” He grins at me like he made the funniest joke of the week, nudging my shoulder. “Don’t worry—these fine men won’t disappoint me. Will you?” He turns to the five men at the booth, and they all shake their heads in unison—all but the one in the plague mask.

Ivan doesn’t seem to notice. “Excellent! Are we all ready to head back?”

A murmur of ascent makes its way around the booth, and one by one the men sidle toward the red door at the back of the club. Ivan exits, allowing me to exit the other side. He’s halfway to the door when Anwir snaps out, gripping my arm and hauling me back onto his lap.

My mouth pops in protest, but I don’t get a word out before he leans in, his voice low and menacing and stripping my air away. “Are you ready, Seraphina?”

I swallow hard, clenching my thighs together as my arousal soaks clean through my thong. Forcing a smile I don’t feel, I pull my shoulders back and stare straight into those glowing red orbs. “Of course I’m ready. Come on—let me make you feel good.”

His grip tightens painfully as I utter the words, but ultimately, he lets go, allowing me to stand from the booth at last. Without waiting, I hurry toward past the blood red door, sensing the plague doctors gaze on my back the whole way.

By the time I make it to the room at the end of the hallway, Ivan and the rest of the men are in various states of disrobe. I fix a sultry smile on my face as I climb onto the mattress, wiggling out of my tiny leather skirt once I make it to the head.

Ivan pulls on a golden ram mask as Noah crawls to me on all fours, loosing a loud wolf-like howl and dipping his ‘snout’ to my pussy. He snaps a hand out, ripping my bright red thong from my body in a single movement, only to place the shredded material to his nose and take another deep inhale.

“You smell so sweet,” Noah groans, throwing the thong to the side and reaching for my pussy. He dips two fingers inside, thrusting gently and coating his hand in my arousal. I arch my head back, staring up at the ceiling as my blood heats, and I’m lost to that deep cavern of want that’s always lurking in the back of my mind.

The clown and the scream mask join Noah on the bed, their cocks free and straining toward me. The clown grabs me by the hair and tugs me to the edge of the bed, the scream mask letting loose a loud cackle at my squeals of pain. He lays me flat on my back, making sure my head is hanging upside down over the edge of the mattress.

“Be a good little slut and suck my cock.” The clown pushes the head of his dick past my lips. Salty pre-cum coats my tastebuds as I drag my tongue over the tip, eliciting a deep moan from the man in the clown mask. His hips jerk, shoving the length of his cock to the back of my throat as Noah returns to the place between my thighs. Tears fill my eyes as clown mask fucks my throat, each vicious thrust of his cock battering the back of my throat and making me choke.

While Noah lines up his cock with my pussy, scream mask straddles my stomach, laying his thick cock in the dip of my cleavage with a dark chuckle. He lifts the front of my push-up bra enough to slip his cock under the wire, nestling the steely length between my breasts.

“Oh fuck yes.” He thrusts his hips so his cock slides up to my chin. “Fuck, your tits are perfect.”

My body jerks as Noah slams his cock inside me, filling me past the point of comfort and causing my tears to stream down my face. I truly feel like nothing more than a fuck doll as the three men take me in different way, using my body for nothing but their pleasure. Euphoria crests in my veins as Noah reaches down to my clit, and before long, I feel myself nearing the edge.

The door creaks open, stealing my attention for a moment—long enough to break my focus and chase my orgasm away. Anwir stands in the doorway, the glowing red orbs of his plague mask menacing and alluring all at once.

I’m so lost to the things the three men are doing to my body, I fail to notice the long silver dagger clenched in his palm. What I do notice, is when he appears behind the clown—when he drags the blade across his throat.

Thick, hot, red liquid spatters across my face and chest at the same moment as malicious laughter breaks the air. His stiff cock pops from my mouth as the clown slumps to the floor, horrible wet gagging noises sputtering from the gash in his throat.

Before I can push the second man off my chest, “Anwir” sinks the same blade into Scream masks chest. A gloved hand covers my mouth as I try to scream, and I watch helplessly as he stabs him with the blade over and over and over. The Scream mask slumps to the side, a dark color billowing from the stab wounds, staining the mattress blood red.

Noah’s cock slips from me with a garbled cry of shock, and he stumbles backward until he hits the wall. His mouth opens to speak, and the man in the plague mask launches his blade across the room. The blade sails past the gap in his teeth, slicing through the back of his through and pinning his head to the wall with a massive thud.

Terrified tears spring from my eyes, as I fight against the hand covering my mouth, holding me to the bed. If only I could get to my dagger…

Faster than I can blink, the man grabs my wrists, pinning them together above my head. He yanks a zip tie from his pocket, loops it around my hands and pulls the tail as tight as it will go. Satisfied, he rests his palm over my throat, and I close my eyes, waiting for him to squeeze, to take my life as he had the other three.

But then he’s gone.

My eyes spring open, a wave of relief crashing over me when I see Ivan has the killer in a headlock. The plague mask doesn’t seem to be fighting—in fact, it’s the opposite—he’s just standing motionless, letting Ivan wail on him while he fixes those glowing red orbs on me.

I’m not entirely sure what happens next is real.

I blink, and somehow the plague mask has a second dagger in his gloved fist. I open my mouth to scream—to warn Ivan—but it’s too late. The blade sinks into the side of his neck like it was sliding into butter, and Ivan’s pained scream billows into the air.

The plague mask stoops to grab the dagger from Ivan’s neck—to end his life once and for all. His gloved fingers are inches from the hilt when Noah appears behind him, the dagger that was pinning him to the wall raised high above the plague masks neck. His murderous roar rivals Ivan’s screams as he brings the blade down, lips peeled back to reveal teeth as red as his bloodshot eyes.

Hope blooms in my chest, but the plague mask swerves at the last minute, causing the blade to embed in his shoulder instead of his spine. With a snarl, he snaps his hand over his shoulder, wrapping his hand over Noah’s and keeping it on the handle as he straightens.

He snaps Noah’s wrist with one quick movement, reaching into his pocket with the free hand and drawing a third dagger. The blade slashes through the air, embedding deep into Noah’s left eye as the plague mask howls with laughter.

Noah slumps but can’t move away from the man due to the death grip he has on his wrist. I roll from the bed, scrambling toward my purse that holds my dagger when a blood-curdling scream fills the room.

I glance over my shoulder, horror filling my veins as I witness a thick, serrated blade being dragged across Noah’s throat. He saws and saws, and saws, and I can do nothing but look on, bile rising in my throat.

When the head is disconnected from the body, the man looks up at me, his gleaming red eyes matching the spatters of liquid coating his mask.

He looks insane.

He looks delicious.

I shake my head, taking a cautious step toward my purse. I don’t know where the fuck that thought came from, but it terrifies me that I could be attracted to a man who just…

My stomach roils as I look at the bloody head hanging from that gloved hand. He tosses it toward me, and it lands on the carpet in such a way that his face is turned toward me, the eyes glassy and unblinking. Dead.

I take another step, but his voice freezes me in place. It’s a deep, soothing timbre that rolls over my skin, twisting my insides and pushing every sinful thought I’ve ever had to the forefront of my mind.

And it’s so, so familiar, too.

The man in the plague mask reaches up, his gloved fingers slipping beneath the lip of the mask before yanking it off. Eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky glint menacingly beneath a mop of messy black hair, the aura bursting from his shoulders equally beautiful and dangerous. But his smile unnerves me the most. Seductive, and hungry and bloodthirsty and wanting—and it’s all for me.

“Hello, little dove.”

26

ORION

“TAKING SERAPHINA”

Red shrouds my vision as I take a step closer to Seraphina, a deep need settling into the pit of my stomach, infecting every cell in my body until I’m nothing more than a giant, shuddering mass of need.

Need. Need. Need.

The word echoes in my mind as I commit Seraphina’s expression to memory. The horrified sheen in her eyes, the space between her lips as she gasps her shock. Her terror.

Good. You should be scared of me, little dove.

My attention is pulled to the corner of the room, biting down a furious snarl as Ivan fights to right himself, clutching the wall for support while thick rivers of blood course down the side of his neck. Before I have time to stop it, Ivan rushes from the room like a cornered rat, leaving a heavy trail of blood across the expensive rug.

My lip curls in disgust, only for it to fall a moment later when I realize my dove and I are alone. Finally.

I step over Noah’s headless body, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I close the gap between Seraphina and me. For every step I take, she moves back, until her back slams against the far wall.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes wide and searching the room for something to defend herself with. Too late for that, little dove.

“If you’re looking for your dagger, it’s currently embedded in your lover’s neck.” My fist tightens at my side when I remember Ivan is still alive. Another failure.

She shakes her head, mouth wide and wordless as she settles her eyes on my face. “You…”

My mouth quirks as I rake my eyes over Seraphina’s naked frame, only for it to drop as I take in the small black tattoo on her hip. Who the fuck did she get that for?

Rage boils my skin as I take another step toward her, “You’re coming with me, little dove.”

“The fuck I am.” She bares her teeth in a snarl as her hand curls into a fist at her side. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

I tilt my head. “I would never do that.”

She scoffs, eyes darting to the three dead bodies spread across the room. “It doesn’t seem like you have many qualms about it.”

I take another step. Another, and another, until eventually we’re chest to chest. Seraphina’s pulse spikes as I reach up to her face, dragging a bloodied thumb over her lips, staining them with crimson.

I lean in, brushing my lips against her ear. “I won’t kill you, little dove. Not yet—not until I break you.” I let my hand fall from her face, cupping the side of her delicate neck and applying pressure. “And you don’t break easily, do you?”

She shakes her head, her breath coming in short gasps. She looks utterly terrified, and I’ve never been harder in my fucking life.

A low chuckle falls from my lips as I lean forward, brushing them lightly against hers. “We’re going to have fun, you and I.”

And that’s when I plunge the needle into her neck.

27

SERAPHINA

“SHITTY WAY TO DIE”

The first thing I notice when I wake is my terror. The second is the wooden box surrounding me on all sides. The third—and strangest—is the sensation of metal encasing my pelvis. I raise my head in an attempt to check it out, but the ceiling is so low, I just end up smashing my forehead against the wood. Instinctually, I try to raise a hand to the lump forming on my head, only to run into the same problem.

I’m all too aware of the speed of my breathing—the amount of oxygen I’m wasting—but try as I might, I can’t calm down. I blink up at the ceiling, watching it get closer and closer each time my eyes shut. It’s getting smaller, squeezing the air out of the space, forcing it from my lungs.

“What a shitty way to die.” I close my eyes as my pounding heart threatens to break my ribs. “All the shit I’ve been through, and I get taken out by a wooden box.”

I take one last gulp of air, force my eyes shut, and wait for the end. But it doesn’t come. Instead, a loud cracking fills the space—like someone is opening the lid. My heart jumps to my throat, hope filling the dark pit left behind as light floods the box.

And it all comes crashing down as I take in the plague mask.

“You’re finally awake. I thought I was going to die of boredom.” The thick leather beak muffles his voice, but the way it affects my body, I know it’s Orion.

Cold air hits my flesh, pebbling my nipples, and it’s then I also realize I am completely naked. My face heats, but I shoot him a glare just as fiery, not willing to back down.

“So what’s your plan, onion?”

He tilts his head at the nickname, his shoulders stiffening. “My plan?”

I nod. “Your plan to stop me.”

“I don’t think I know what you mea⁠—”

Before he can finish, I jump from the box with a vicious war cry, my hands outstretched toward his face. He stumbles back instinctively, hands reaching back to catch himself—and that's when I strike.

Orion snarls in rage as I rake my fingernails down the side of his neck, lodging chunks of flesh beneath my nails. He reaches out to subdue me, but I anticipate his attack, ducking beneath his muscular arms and retreating to the corner before he has a chance to steady himself.

The vein in the side of his neck throbs as he reaches up, cupping the four gushing scratch marks. “My, my. It seems like someone doesn’t know how to play nice.”

My veins flare with rage at his tone—like I’m a damn pet. “Well, I’m not very nice, so it checks.”

He chuckles as he takes a step forward, and I shift so I’m on the other side of the box I was trapped in earlier—a box I’m just now realizing is shaped like a…

“You put me in a coffin?” I snarl, pointing an accusatory finger at the wooden box in question. “Who fucking does something like that?”

“Someone very sick. Someone very obsessed.” He takes another step, and another, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a dagger. His thighs hit the lip of the coffin, and he stops, the glowing red orbs of his mask pulling me in, entrancing me. “Do you feel it too, little dove?”

“Feel what?”

My anger is smothered as he raises a gloved hand, gesturing to the distance separating us. “This tug. Like the threads of the universe are pulling us together—weaving your essence into mine.” He tilts his head, and for some reason, I know he’s smiling.

Only, it’s not a good smile.

“You should have flown away when you had the chance, little dove.” He raises the dagger to his neck, sliding the tip of the knife beneath his mask. In one movement, he slices clean through the leather stitching, and the mask falls away.

My throat bobs as that murky aura swirls from his outline, and I take a step back. With a smirk, Orion throws the coffin across the room, removing the only barrier I had. His forearms strain as his hands clench at his sides, and he eats the distance between us before I can blink.

Orion pins me against the wall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he towers over me. I’m so entranced by the dark swirling blue of his irises, I don’t realize when he grabs my wrists until they’re pinned above my head.

He leans down to my neck, humming with satisfaction after a greedy inhale of my scent. “God, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” He drags his teeth across my flesh. I squeal as pain bursts from the sensitive area, which only makes him bite down harder.

Tears swim in my eyes as he rears back, and for a horrifying moment, I think he’s going to tear a chunk out of my neck. But then he releases me, replacing teeth with tongue as he laps at the fresh wound, easing the pain away. When he places his lips on that spot, pleasure blossoms deep inside—the mix of sensations suddenly too much and not enough all at once.

My hips jerk involuntarily, but instead of Orion’s body heat, I’m met with biting metal. I look down and nearly scream at the sight of what appears to be a metal thong encasing my pelvis. Two thick straps sit in the curve of my hips, dipping down to a thin strip of metal just wide enough to cover my pussy and ass crack.

My mouth falls, unable to believe what I’m seeing. I’ve read about chastity belts before, but never in my life did I think I’d be wearing one. And I certainly never thought this madman would be the one putting me in it.

“Do you like it?”

When I don’t answer, he grabs my chin, forcing my eyes back up to his face. “I asked you a question, brat.”

I frown, a wave of indignation cresting in my veins as I stare him down. “Maybe I didn’t want to answer it.”

He snaps his free hand up, tweaking my nipple and causing me to cry out. Against my will, my pussy throbs, flooding the thin piece of metal with my arousal. It drips down the inside of my thighs, and I press them together, squirming at the hungry look in Orion’s gaze.

A low growl hums from his chest as he pushes his knee between my eyes, forcing them back open. “No. I want to see you dripping for me. I want to see you gush when I bring you to the edge time and time again, only to rip it away from you. I want to see that pretty little light die in your eyes as you’re denied for the first time in your life. I want to hear you scream. I want to hear you beg.” He twists my nipple again, sending a bolt of electricity through my veins as he leans in, his smile full of malice. “But most importantly, I want to watch the way you break for me.”

A whimper tumbles from my lips as Orion nips at the wound from earlier. I could stand her and deny it—tell myself I hate everything he’s done to me—everything he’s promising. But the truth is, I want to see it, too. I want to see if he can break me when no one else could.

He pulls back, and instead of the terrified expression he expects, my eyes are filled with fire. “Give it your best fucking shot.”

He chuckles, but it's not a happy sound. Gripping me by the back of the neck, he pulls me in so our lips are a breath apart. Electricity crackles between us, daring that gap to close. But Orion just freezes there, drinking in the sight of me.

“You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

I smirk, lunging forward and taking his lip between my teeth. His pupils blow as I bite down, coating my tongue in the metallic taste of his blood.

When I let go, we’re both panting hard. But Orion looks like he’s come unglued. His hand moves to the front of my neck, applying pressure and cutting off my airflow. The hard length of his cock presses into my stomach, straining to get to me through the fabric of his jeans. A hard little ball digs into my stomach, but I don’t have the sense to realize what it is as black dots begin to swarm my vision. I look deep into Orion’s eyes, never blinking. I want him to see the warning in mine—the challenge.

But he looks back. And what I see there scares me to the core.

28

ORION

“IRRESISTIBLE”

After she passes out, I throw Seraphina’s limp body across my shoulder, red crowding my vision as I stalk toward the St. Andrews cross on the back wall. I’m careful not to jostle her too much as I position her in the center of the cross, having to hold her up with one arm while I strap her wrist into a cuff with the other.

I hold her up while I connect the second wrist—not wanting to risk her shoulder dislocating—and once she’s supported evenly, I slowly release my grip. I step back, taking a moment to admire the dips and curves of her body, the chastity belt gleaming from her hips.

Salivating, I crouch low, running a finger up the inside of her calf, admiring each dip and curve of her ankle. Every part of her—no, every cell of her—calls to me. She’s so beautiful, I feel like I’m going to burst every time I look at her.

I drag my finger up, up, up, stopping at the corner of the chastity belt. I swirl my finger in the arousal pooling there, only drawing back when I’m completely coated in her. I draw my finger to my mouth, my eyes fluttering closed as the taste of her floods my senses. It’s sweet and heady and utterly intoxicating—and it makes me come undone.

I throw my head back, and a shuddering groan falls from my open mouth as I come in my pants, losing all control with the thought, the feel, the taste of her.

“Fuck.” I drag my chin down as the last of my release shudders free. “Fuck.”

I look down at the dark stain spreading along the front of my pants, frowning at the implications. If she can make me come by just tasting her, what am I going to do when I’m actually inside her?

Shaking the thought away, I return to my earlier job. I snap her ankles to each beam of the cross, then check the locks to make sure she can’t get free. Satisfied, I straighten, admiring my work for a moment before turning and leaving the room in search of clean pants. After deciding on a comfy pair of gray sweats, I return to Seraphina, adrenaline coursing through my veins and clearing my previously addled mind.

“Wake up, little dove,” I murmur, twisting her nipples hard enough to wake her.

Her eyes snap open, and the terrified sheen there sends a fresh wave of blood to my cock. Stepping forward so our chests are pressed together, I lean down to her collarbone, placing chaste kisses across the curve that has her moaning in delight.

“Fuck yes.” She arches her back so her breasts press against the planes of my chest. She grinds her pussy against the hard line of my cock, her mouth falling open with cries of dismay as she tries and fails to gain any friction.

I lower my hands to her hips, shoving her hips back against the cross and holding her there. Then, I drag the pad of my tongue up the side of her neck and face, ignoring her cries of shock as I fill myself with the taste of her skin.

“You’re so delicious,” I murmur, brushing the tip of my nose against hers. She looks up through thick silver lashes, the fire in her eyes turning her irises into swirling, molten gold.

“Please.” Her hips jerk as a pleading look enters her gaze. “Please, Orion. I need to come.”

I shake my head, a manic laugh filling the room. “You don’t deserve to come.”

Pulling my dagger out, I place the blade on the curve of her neck, dragging it lightly across her skin. A thin line of red materializes, such a stark contrast to the pale skin surrounding it.

I gaze at Seraphina’s face, surprised to find her eyes fluttering, her mouth slightly parted as breathy moans fall from her lips. “Fuck.” She looks up at me through hooded eyes. “Do that again.”

Trying to think past the roaring in my mind, I make two more quick cuts across her shoulder and chest, drawing a loud moan from Seraphina. Her head tilts back and her hips jerk, losing all control as the pain floods her nervous system.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, overcome by shudders. “Oh my God, I’m going to fucking come.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” I growl. “Not until I say so.” I pull away from her entirely, smirking at the pained cries that fill the air as I do. “Brats don’t deserve to feel pleasure. Brats deserve to be punished.”

“But I⁠—”

I press the tip of my blade to her sternum, causing her words to halt and her breath to come hard and fast. I dig the blade in just enough to draw a pearl of blood to the surface, swiveling it each time Seraphina moans.

Fuck. This is not going to be easy.

I continue placing small nicks across her torso, each trembling moan I drag from her lips feeding the beast lurking beneath my skin. I move the blade to her hip, frowning when I see the crescent moon I gave her the other night is nearly healed. I carve a fresh moon over the same spot, and when I’m satisfied, I swipe the fresh blood away with the pad of my thumb.

I step back, admiring my beautiful little dove—the fresh marks across her skin that showcase to the world she’s mine. A little whimper falls from her swollen lips, though I can’t see her expression to tell whether it was one of pain or pleasure. One thing is for certain, though—her body is spent.

My heart twinges as I gaze at the fresh bruises spreading across her translucent skin, and I worry for a moment that I may have been too rough on her.

Is this what regret feels like?

I don’t like it. And I need to make it right. Stepping up to Seraphina, I release the cuffs on her ankles, then each of her wrists. When I’m done, her body falls forward, deadweight across my shoulder.

Although, she weighs far, far less than I would like her to.

I frown at the feel of her bones pressing into me, trying to recall when she last ate. She never seemed to eat when she went to her apartment, so I always assumed the old woman was feeding her when she went to visit. Still, that would mean it’s been…

Two days? That can’t be right.

Yet when I do the math, I find it is. My chest clenches with sorrow as I reposition Seraphina, holding her frail body to my chest with a single arm. In her addled state, she nestles her face against my chest, and I nearly collapse when she presses her lips to my skin.

Seraphina just kissed me. She just kissed me. Okay, I have to play this cool.

But it’s no use, and nothing short of a bullet could stop my heart from racing as she peppers little kisses across my collarbone. I tug her closer, careful not to apply too much pressure for fear I’ll snap her bones.

I remember when I found Baccus years ago—how fragile he seemed—how it felt like I would crush him every time I adjusted my grip. He, too, had never been cared for. Never loved, or respected. They’re alike in many ways, my little dove and Bacchus. Both cynical of the world and prone to aggression when cornered. They can spread their wings and fly anywhere they want, not tethered to the earth like the rest of us. But they’re loyal. Once they bond, it’s for life.

Yes, they share many similarities. But the nearly identical thing—uncanny in likeness—is the torture they hold in their eyes. It’s so deep, black, and endless. It seeps out of their very being, infecting the air around them.

I would do anything to take that away.

I press a kiss to Seraphina’s forehead as I step into the bathroom, thinking of all the things I would do just to see her smile at me.

Arson. Murder. Ripping the seams of the universe apart. The list is endless, really.

I run through the possibilities as I turn the faucet on, making sure the water is just warm enough before filling the tub. Grabbing the small key from my pocket, I unlock Seraphina’s chastity belt and lower her into the water. She mumbles a satisfied sound, and it fills some of the hollow pit in my chest.

Grabbing the shampoo I bought for her—the same one she uses at her apartment—I squeeze a dollop into my palm and begin massaging it into Seraphina’s scalp. My fingers slide over the silky strands of her hair, and I can’t help but marvel how they shine in the light—like finely spun silk.

“You are so beautiful, Seraphina,” I whisper, leaning in to place another kiss on the crest of her brow. I told her earlier I wanted to break her, and while my actions fit my words, I know the true reasoning in my heart. I want to keep her. I just don’t know how.

When I pull away, her eyes are open, catching me in a rare moment of vulnerability. I can’t look away—would never dare to do something that would cause her to take those glorious golden eyes off me.

“You’re awake.” It’s not a question, but she nods all the same. There’s something meek about the gesture—something that wasn’t there before—and I can’t help but think she’s warming to me. I want more of it.

“You’re washing my hair.” Again, not a question—but she seems puzzled by it all the same.

“I am.” I continue massaging her scalp, sitting in comfortable silence with her for a minute. “You seemed to enjoy it more when you passed out.”

“Did I?”

I recall the sounds pouring from her lips, and my cock swells. “You did.”

“Hmm.” She turns her head, eyes skimming over the label of the shampoo. “You’ve done your homework. Although, my favorite is the one with⁠—”

“Vanilla.” I lower the back of her head into the water. “I went to seven different stores, but they didn’t have it.”

“You have to order it online.” There’s a fragile look in her eyes I’ve never seen before. “How long have you been planning this?”

I shrug, deciding the truth would be too much—that the moment I saw her, I was gone. That the minute our eyes met, I knew I had to have her. “Does it really matter?”

“I suppose not.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, nothing but the occasional moan to interrupt it as I condition and rinse Seraphina’s long locks. When that’s done, I pump some shower gel into a washcloth, careful not to damage her skin further as I rub away the dried blood.

Only when she’s gleaming and waterlogged do I pull her from the tub. Goose bumps cover her skin as the air hits her exposed flesh, and I quickly grab the towel from the warmer and wrap it around her shoulders.

Her shivering ceases instantly, and her chest buzzes with a satisfied hum. “Oh, I fucking need one of these.”

“I thought you would like it.” I silently pat myself on the back for taking the clerk’s advice at the store the other day. Your girlfriend will love this, she had said, thrusting the massive box into my chest. The insinuation had actually made me blush, and flustered, I followed her around the store, buying anything the elderly woman suggested.

And now it’s paying off. I grin as I take in the euphoric expression on Seraphina’s face, committing it to memory.

I step into the bedroom, but instead of placing Seraphina on the mattress, I walk over to the large black dresser in the corner of the room, pulling open the top drawer. I select a pair of matching leather restraints and a new chastity “belt” before moving back to the bed.

I place her face down, keeping a palm on her back as I secure her wrists and ankles. Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight, and I have to attribute it to her exhaustion. Once she’s restrained, I slide my hand up the back of her thigh, stopping at the crease of her ass. I slide my hand toward her center, dipping a finger inside her dripping pussy.

Groaning, I swirl it around her walls, coating it in her arousal. She pants, arching her back as her body begins to tremble, but before she can come, I rip my hand away. She lets out an angry whine, showing me what a greedy little slut she is, and my blood heats. I bring my palm down hard on her ass, droplets of her juices flying into the air from the force of it.

“Every time I consider letting you come, you have to go and fuck it up. But you can’t help it, can you? Because you’re nothing more than a greedy little fucking brat.” I dig my fingertips into the mound of her ass. “Aren’t you, Seraphina?”

“You—you’re doing it to me! If you wouldn’t keep touching me⁠—”

I bring my hand down on her other cheek, leaving an angry red handprint behind. I give her two more hard slaps for good measure, coming away panting and hard as a fucking rock.

I lean forward, placing a kiss on the curve of her spine. “Bad girl,” I whisper, my breath causing goose bumps to raise along her spine. I slide my finger in her dripping cunt briefly before sliding it up her crack, pressing the tip against her tight little asshole. She gasps at the pressure as I slide it inside, a sound that turns to a moan as I add another finger inside her tight hole.

She arches her back as uncontrolled moans pour from her mouth, wriggling her hips in a desperate attempt to gain some friction elsewhere. With a dark chuckle, I grab the miniature chastity belt from the mattress, positioning the tip of the ribbed projection at her entrance.

Seraphina shudders as I slide the length of it inside her. I have to move so, so slow, otherwise she’ll come from the sensation alone, but eventually, I’m able to fit the entire dildo inside. I twist the shoehorn-like base over her pussy and clit, suctioning the cap to her pussy so there’s no way she’ll be able to get any stimulation.

Once she realizes what I’ve done, Seraphina lets out a distraught, animalistic noise. She wiggles and bucks her hips wildly, but nothing she does allows her to reach the edge she so desperately craves.

I slide my fingers from her asshole, chuckling at the desperate whine that leaves her mouth. “When you’re good, you get to come. Until then, we’re going to sleep.”

I fall next to her in bed, pulling her body flush against mine before raising the quilt over our bodies. From where her hands are positioned behind her back, they’re in the perfect position to grab my cock if she wanted to. I jerk my hips forward, my eyes rolling as the base of my cock slides against her fingers. Even through the fabric of my sweats, it’s more than enough to make me come, and I have to use every last ounce of restraint to pull away from her.

“Get some sleep, little dove.” I rest my chin in the crook of her neck. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

She scoffs. “Right. I don’t think that will be happening.”

The words are barely out of her mouth when sleep claims her.

29

SERAPHINA

“NO ASSHOLE IS SAFE”

A gentle moan falls from my lips as my body is jolted slightly, waking me from one of the most pleasant dreams I’ve had in months. A building pressure in my backside brings the world crashing back to me, and my eyes spring open to the morning light streaming in through barred windows.

My body is sore all over, and the chastity belt is gone, but in its place is a small piece of metal just large enough to cover my clit, held in place by a projection lodged deep in my pussy. I’m nearly mad with the need for stimulation, needing it more than I need air as Orion thrusts in and out of my asshole.

Wait. Orion is fucking my asshole.

I jerk my head over my shoulder, coming face-to-face with Orion’s snarling expression. He looks possessed as his fingers dig into my hips, yanking my hips back and forth as his cock stretches my tight hole. That hard little ball at the tip of his cock rubs against my walls, bringing me a new kind of pleasure I’ve never experienced.

“Fuck me.” I let my head fall to the pillow as Orion ravages my body. My pussy throbs, burning me up with the need to come. I’ve lost all sense of time, of meaning, of anything that could ground me. He’s reduced me to a dribbling pile of want, and though the knowledge of that should terrify me, I can’t find it within myself to care.

Orion pumps once, twice more. And he stills inside me, his thick cock throbbing powerfully as he spills his seed deep inside me.

With a deep groan, he presses his forehead to my back, his hips jerking slightly as he pumps the last of his release. He keeps his cock inside me long after he’s done, holding me close and peppering my spine with kisses.

When his cock finally pops from my asshole, he rolls me to my stomach, a calloused palm pressing on my back as he releases the restraints on my ankles. Pushing my legs apart, he crouches between them, lowering his face to the cum leaking from my asshole. He drags two fingers up my crease, carefully pushing his seed back into the tight hole.

A low growl rumbles from his chest before he licks up the rest of his seed. I whimper at the feel of his tongue against that sensitive spot, desperate for him to press it inside, to give me any kind of release.

“Fuck, you taste so good with my cum inside you.” Orion pulls away, smacking my ass before reaching into the top drawer of the bedside table. A ruby-encrusted butt plug shines in the morning light, but I barely get a look at it before Orion shoves it into my asshole.

“Fuck!” My eyes water, and though I try to move my hips away, Orion just holds me in place. A wave of relief courses through me once it’s fully inserted, and the discomfort fades to pleasure.

“I want to keep my seed inside you for as long as possible.” He flicks the ruby-encrusted tip, making me jump. “When you’re ready, I’ll do it to your pussy, too. So all your fucking holes are filled with me.” He flips me on my back, and my heart stops at the malicious smile carved across his face. “It’s just what a dirty little whore like you deserves. Isn’t that right, Seraphina?”

Against my will, I find myself nodding. Orion’s laugh fills the air, but it’s not a happy sound, and it shakes me to my core. Before I have time to react, he snaps the restraints back on my ankles. He crawls onto the mattress, his pupils eating the blue of his irises until they’re endless black orbs. He places a kiss on the scar on my belly, never breaking eye contact. I’m sure he doesn’t know what it’s from, but the feel of his lips on such a sensitive area brings tears to my eyes.

“I’m going to make you some breakfast now. When I return, you will be in the same position.” He stands from the bed, his cock tenting the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. “Be good, Seraphina. And remember what happens to brats who disobey.”

With that, he stalks out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

My heart clenches as I think about the madman in the plague mask—the monster with the beautiful blue eyes—but it’s not from repulsion. Or even from terror. And that’s not the worst of it. Not the most terrible by far.

It’s the knowledge of what I now know to be true:

The Reaper has stolen a piece of my soul.

30

ORION

“A GHOST RETURNS”

My chest hums with satisfaction as I close the bedroom door behind me, a sick little smile carved on my face at the memory of Seraphina’s expression.

Of course, all that joy dies at the sight of a grumpy Ghost creasing the cushions of my couch. He’s spread out like he owns the damn place, dirty boots on the coffee table and a lit cigarette between his fingers.

My cigarette.

“You know, just once, it would be nice if you knocked.”

Ghost takes a long drag, a smirk tipping the edge of his mouth. “I did knock.”

“Oh.” I rub the back of my neck, looking anywhere but at the man who raised me. If he looks me in the eye, he’ll know for sure I’m hiding something. “Well, it’s nice of you to stop by, I guess. You didn’t happen to bring your hellion with, did you?” I look around hopefully for the spunky eight-year-old.

Ghost chuckles. “She’s at school, Orion—but it’s endearing that you miss her.”

I cross my arms. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Ghost clears his throat, every ounce of mirth racing from his face. “As much as I’d like to talk about Sloane, there’s a reason I came today…”

I raise my brow when he doesn’t continue. “Well? Spit it out. Unless you’ve already forgotten⁠—”

“If you tell one more ageist joke, I will string you up by your ankles and carve the flesh from your bones.”

I search his face but can find no trace of a joke. “I’m listening…”

Ghost sighs, pulling his feet from the coffee table and standing from the couch. “I wanted to talk to you about Seraphina. There’s been some disturbing developments that I wanted to make you aware o⁠—”

Thump!

Ghost’s eyes go wide. “What the fuck was that?”

I shrug, fighting to keep my face neutral. “I didn’t hear anything. Maybe it’s time to get those hearing aids check⁠—”

Thump! Thump!

Ghost raises a brow, his violet eyes piercing. “Really? You’re going to stand there and tell me you don’t hear that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug, looking anywhere but my bedroom door. “Have you considered early onset Alzheimer’s?”

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

Ghost looks toward the bedroom door. At me. At the door.

He lunges for it.

I somehow manage to throw my body in front of his, and we both fall to a heap on the floor. Ghost lets out an irritated growl, using all his strength to shove me off before reaching for the handle once more. His fingertips are inches from the brass handle when I jump on his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him like a deranged koala.

“Let me in,” Ghost chokes, his face reddening from my grip around his neck. His gloved hands claw at my forearms, and when that doesn’t work, he sends his elbow back into the side of my ribs.

A distinct crack fills the air, but I don’t let go—not even when the pain steals my air.

“You don’t want to go in there.” I blink away the dots swarming my vision. “There’s nothing in there for you.”

“Orion…”

“What?” I gasp. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

Ghost twists so his back is against the wall, and using his momentum, he slams me against the surface to try to dislodge me.

“Strong for…an old geezer… aren’t you?” I choke out between each body slam. Ghost lets out a furious growl, ripping his dagger from its sheath before shoving it—rather unceremoniously—into my thigh.

Ah. That’ll do it.

Searing pain branches out to all my nerve endings, and my reflexes take over, forcing me to loosen my death grip on Ghost. And that’s all he needs.

With one last, final shake, Ghost dislodges me. My body thumps to the floor, and I don’t have time to blink before Ghost is through the bedroom door.

I fight the pain in my leg as I straighten, a furious snarl leaving my mouth as I limp after him. By the time I get there, Ghost is staring wide-eyed at a bound and naked Seraphina. He turns his head to the side, blindly grabbing a sheet from the floor and tossing it over her.

Face red as a tomato, Seraphina sputters at the sight of Ghost. “Sir, you have to help me. That maniac—he took me and he⁠—”

“I don’t appreciate being called a maniac,” I interrupt, a pout forming.

“I’m not talking to you.” She bares her teeth at me, fighting to calm her expression before looking back at Ghost. Something like recognition crosses her face as she takes him in, but it’s gone in the next moment. “Please, please help me.”

Ghost freezes, looking between the golden-eyed girl and me several times before shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“What the fuck? Why not?”

Ghost regards her. “I know what you are, girl. I know what you stand for and who is looking for you.”

Seraphina’s mouth parts in shock, but before she has a chance to ask, Ghost turns to me, fire in his violet eyes. “Did you think what you did at the Neon Flamingo would have no consequences? Did you stop for one minute to think about the identities or the ties of the people you massacred? Do you not realize what danger you’ve put this young woman in? What danger you’ve put yourself in?”

I open my eyes wide, showing him every ounce of my sincerity as I say, “Say ‘Neon Flamingo’ again. That shit was priceless.”

Ghost snarls, but the sound of a throat clearing draws our attention back to Seraphina.

“Yeah, so I’m still here. Who is looking for me?”

Ghost ignores her. “Honestly, Orion, I raised you to be smarter than this.”

I roll my eyes. “You didn’t raise me. You just gave me a space to crash while you were out murdering people for the Sanctum.”

At my last word, Seraphina gasps. When I look at her, that recognition is back in full force, and it’s aimed directly at Ghost. “I know you… you were at the Sanctum that night—the night I…” A frown pinches her brow as her voice fades, confusion replacing the clarity she held in her gaze moments before. “I don’t remember…”

Ghost’s lips thin, something akin to sympathy crossing his expression. “I remember you, too. You saved my life that night. Almost ten years to the day.”

Seraphina nods, her eyes glazing over as she’s lost to some memory. “Did I…?”

Ghost sighs, turning to me with an unspoken order in his gaze. With one last look toward Seraphina, I follow him out of the bedroom, my gut twisting with unease.

As soon as the door clicks, I grab Ghost’s arm. “She was with you that night at the Sanctum? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I can still remember that night ten years ago like it was yesterday. The bodies. The blood. The sight of Ghost dying on the ground.

Ghost looks off to the side, his throat bobbing. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I didn’t tell you. Maybe I was so naive at the time, so grateful to be alive and free, I decided Seraphina wouldn’t be a problem.” His gaze hardens. “I should have known better.”

“She’s not a problem.” Red crowds the edges of my vision at the implication that Seraphina is anything other than perfect. “She’s had a shit past—neither of us can hold that one against her. I’ve gotten to know her, Ghost—I don’t think she even remembers much about the Sanctum. And if she does, she sure as shit doesn’t want to be a part of them anymore.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, refusing to look at me. “That’s not the problem, Orion. You didn’t grow up in the Sanctum, so you don’t realize what they’re like.” At this, he raises his head, but the emotion in his eyes strangles my heart. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. She belongs to them, and they will not stop hunting for her until she agrees to be theirs, or she is dead.”

My fist clenches at my side. “Then I’ll protect her. I’ll take out every last rat bastard crawling through this city until the Sanctum is gone, once and for all. I’ll keep her safe⁠—”

“She’s not some wounded crow you found in the woods, Orion—she’s the next Madam of the Sanctum! You’re hurting her by keeping her caged against her will.”

“I’m helping her⁠—”

“You’re not helping her! You’re just deluding yourself!” His chest rises and falls rapidly, a pink flush creeping up his neck. “This is not like Brett and me, Orion. As much as you want it to be, it cannot.”

“Why? Because I’m not special like you?” I sneer.

He shakes his head sadly. “No, Orion. It’s because she’s dangerous.”

At that, I balk. My little dove, dangerous? Sure, she knows how to defend herself, but I wouldn’t class her as a danger to my life. If she was such a terror, she could have killed me any of the dozens of times I turned my back to her last night. Restraints or not.

Ghost looks at my murderous expression, then turns and heads for the door. Before he leaves, he gives me one last piece of advice.

“Stay away, Orion. It’s for your own good.”

He exits, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of cigarette smoke. I stare at the door for several minutes, running over the warning he gave me.

If only staying away was an option.

31

SERAPHINA

“ZIP ZAP”

As soon as Orion and the other man—Ghost—leave the room, I roll to the floor and wiggle to the door like a desperate worm. I position my head sideways to the door and press my ear to the splitting wood, desperately trying to make out the muffled voices on the other side. Alas, for all my efforts, the only thing I’m able to make out are Ghost’s passing words: She’s dangerous.

I purse my lips as irritation prickles my skin. That’s fucking rich coming from an ex-Phantom. He’s probably tortured and killed a hundred times the number of people I have.

“She’s dangerous.” I blow a raspberry at the door. “You’re no sweetheart, either, you know…”

It occurs to me I’m talking to thin air, and a flush of embarrassment creeps up the back of my neck. Of course, that all fades as footsteps clunk toward the door. The doorknob twists, and a blast of cold air smacks me in the face as Orion pulls it open.

His eyes roam over my backside, a smirk pulling at his mouth as he takes in the ridiculous position I’ve gotten myself into. Butt naked, bound, and face down on the floor is a first for me, though I imagine it’s far more amusing to be on the witnessing end.

I twist my head, doing my best attempt at a seething glare. “Can I help you?”

His smirk widens as he steps over me, pulling the door closed and locking it with a swift flick of his fingers. “It doesn’t look like I’m the one who needs help.”

“Then you have sorely underestimated me.” I sniff, turning face down to the floor. Pushing my forehead to the wood floors, I attempt to bring my knees under me but only end up falling to the side like a drunken baby gazelle.

Oh, and I probably looked fucking ridiculous to boot.

I shift my eyes to Orion, imagining shoving a rusted eye pick through his ear as his laughter rings out.

“Oh my…fucking…crackers…” He doubles over, clutching his stomach as that rich sound fills the air. “You… you’re too much.” He straightens, his tattooed forearm flexing as he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. My gaze snags on that straining muscle, clenching my thighs as depraved thoughts fill my head. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I purse my lips. “Someone very wise once told me some advice I’m going to give to you: No one says ‘oh my fucking crackers.’ Do not try to make it a thing.”

His blue eyes twinkle as he looks down at me, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to respond any time soon. Instead, his attention has refocused on my breasts, the little red cuts and bruises he placed only hours ago. Orion’s throat bobs, his broad shoulders straining as he clenches and unclenches his fist at his side. When he speaks, his voice is rough and clipped, as if it’s taking him great restraint to say the words.

“We should… go out. It would be good for you to get some fresh air.”

I raise a brow, wondering what brought on this change in attitude. “Aren’t you worried what will happen when you let me out of these cuffs? You heard the Phantom—I’m dangerous.”

Orion crouches low, brushing my hair gently from my face. “It’s good that I like dangerous, then.” He slides his hand down my spine, drawing heat to the surface of my chilled skin. I’m so lost in the sensation that I don’t realize Orion has released my cuffs until he dangles them in front of my eyes.

My joy is short-lived, however. Reaching into his pocket, Orion pulls out what looks to be a dog collar—an electric shock collar, to be specific. I eye the metal pins with a raised brow before turning my gaze to Orion, daring him to try.

“If you wanted to put that thing on me, you really should have left my cuffs on.”

He tilts his head. “If you’re good, I’ll let you come…”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Now that I can move my hands, I can do that mysel⁠—”

He rushes forward, strapping the collar to my neck before I can utter the last letter. When it’s locked in place, Orion sits back on his heels with a haughty grin, raising a small remote control I hadn’t noticed before.

His thumb swirls teasingly around the button as he eyes me, his pupils blowing as he takes in the thick black strap around my neck. “Are you ready to be good for me, Seraphina?”

My eyes narrow in a glare. “I’ve never been good a day in my life, and I’m not going to start for a man with a malformed frontal cortex—Ow!” I jerk my hands up, fingers digging uselessly at the edge of the black box sending electricity through my system. “I fucking hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual at the moment, dove.” He turns from me and stalks toward his dresser, grabbing a faded Pink Floyd shirt from the bottom drawer. It lands just in front of me, and Orion crosses his arms, waiting for me to put it on.

I glare at him the whole time, but the intoxicating scent of Orion is too much to resist, and it’s over my head in an instant. I breathe in the heady scent of pine sap and cigarette smoke, trying not to make a show of it as I clench my thighs together.

Orion chuckles, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and walking them over to me. He crooks a finger, ordering me to rise—and I do. Electricity crackles between us as we stand there, breathing in the other’s essence. The vein in the side of Orion’s neck thrums violently as he motions to the pants he holds out to me. I place my hands on his shoulders for support as I step into the leg holes, biting my lip as his muscles shudder beneath my touch.

Once my legs are inside, Orion slides his palm down the front of my pussy, tapping the small metal casing with a breathy laugh. “Remember—only if you’re good.” He leans in, brushing his lips across my jaw and working his way up to my ear. He nips at my lobe, licking up the shell of my ear with a growl rumbling from his chest.

All too soon, he pulls away, leaving me breathless and wanting. He grips the drawstring, pulling it tight and knotting it three times before stepping back, eyeing me up and down with an appreciative expression.

“Like what you see?” I smirk, twirling in a circle as a small laugh bubbles from my lips.

Orion just nods, unblinking. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than you are now—raw and smiling and dressed in my clothes. You’re perfect in the morning, Seraphina.” His throat bobs as he reaches out, grabbing my hips and yanking me toward him. “Alluring in the afternoon, intoxicating in the evening.” His breath is hot against my neck as his voice skitters across my skin. “And in the night… in the night, you’re addicting.”

I close my eyes, allowing his words to fall over me, to warm my dying heart. With Orion, it beats with a new strength. It fills me with a sense of hope—a light I thought had been snuffed out long ago. With him, I feel like I can dream again.

But that shouldn’t happen. Not with the man who’s drugged, captured, and collared me. It’s not right. Not decent. Yet as I let my eyes roam over Orion’s chiseled features, my thoughts absolutely indecent, I can’t bring myself to care.

Orion steps back, breaking the spell I was under. His usual smirk is in place as he gestures to the door, the remote control poised in his palm.

“Come, Seraphina. I want you to meet my alligators.”

32

ORION

“DON’T FEED HALLUCINOGENS TO THE ALLIGATORS”

Seraphina goes wide-eyed at the mention of my swamp puppies, and I can’t help but laugh to myself. Wordlessly, she allows me to strap her into a pair of thick hiking boots and follows me out toward the small lake at the back of the cabin.

Seraphina’s steps crunch against the dead grass as she steps up to the edge of the murky green lake, her eyes catching on the warning sign jutting at an angle out of the water.

“Don’t feed hallucinogens to the alligators… is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Nope. It’s serious.” I step up to her, placing my hand on the small of her back. She flinches, and I drop my hand away, the limb as heavy as my heart in my chest. I clear my throat, forcing my eyes away from her profile as nervous energy spreads between us.

“Why would anyone feed hallucinogens to a dinosaur? That just seems counterintuitive to survival.” She looks up at me, and the smile in her golden gaze melts some of my anxiety away.

I place my hand on her back, happiness bursting from my pores when she doesn’t flinch away. I open my mouth to explain about the gator’s affinity for drugs when the leathery fucks in question appear on the bank.

Yellow eyes blink menacingly from the surface of the water, and though I know they won’t hurt me, Seraphina takes a step back in fright.

“Those… those are real gators… holy shit…”

I tilt my head. “Were you expecting unicorns? I clearly said alligators, Seraphina.”

Her lips turn down as she smacks my arm hard enough to leave a welt. “I know what you said. I just didn’t expect them to be so… big.”

Before she can pull her hand away, I grip her wrist, yanking her toward the water. Karen and Bob open their mouths at our approach, baring dozens of sharp, shiny white teeth.

“Orion, don’t you fucking dare⁠—”

Before she has the chance to finish, I place her palm directly on top of Bob’s snout. Seraphina lets out a choked sound as the leathery flesh greets her skin, and I can tell by the force I have to use to hold her there she’s using every ounce of strength to try to rip away.

But then Bob’s lids lower, and he nudges his snout against her palm, closing his mouth in a gesture of goodwill. Seraphina relaxes at the sight, even going so far as to give his snout a little scratch. Bob’s eyes close fully, and it truly looks like he’s smiling as he loses his senses in Seraphina’s touch.

Trust me, buddy, I get it.

Angry that she’s not getting the same treatment, Karen shoves Bob out of the way, a low, hissing sound passing through her open jaws as she pushes a claw into her mate's face. Giggling, Seraphina willingly stretches out her other hand, giving Karen and Bob scratches at the same time.

“I never knew they could be so…friendly.”

I shrug, never taking my eyes off the beautiful, glowing girl. “Just because something looks a certain way or has a bad reputation doesn’t mean it’s incapable of love.”

She turns to me, a genuine smile spreading her lips. “Thank you for bringing me here. This is… well, I’m not going to say it’s nice, but it’s definitely something I’ve never done before.”

I laugh, offering a hand to Seraphina as she stands from her crouch. Bob and Karen let out disgruntled hisses, their jaws opening wide.

“No.” I shake a finger at them. “No drugs for you.”

Seraphina side-eyes me. “I seriously thought you were kidding about that…”

“Nope. Karen and Bob came from an animal testing facility. They pumped these two full of LSD—didn’t they?” My earlier irritation fades as I reach down to give them each a pat. When I straighten, Seraphina has a haunted look in her eyes, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Shaking it off, I look back at the gators, rage swelling in my chest as I think back to the conditions I found them in.

“About eight years ago, I was working with some people to dismantle the trafficking rings in this city when I stumbled across Bob and Karen. They were both smooshed in a tiny crate alongside a shipment of X—emaciated, wounded, and bound for some drug dealer’s pool house. He had bought them straight from the testing lab—a great deal, I imagine—but they were both so fucked up… I’ve never heard an animal make those kinds of sounds, let alone a gator…” I clear my throat, blinking away the red that crowds my vision. “Anyway, I decided to take them back here. Though they still run up to anyone who gets close to the lake, looking for their fix.”

Seraphina looks out at the lake, a frown pinching her brow. “I’m glad you helped them… not everyone would do something like that.”

I shrug. “There’s too much cruelty in this world. What I did is just a drop in the ocean against it.” Suddenly, I’m not talking about the alligators. Suddenly, a little girl's face swims in my mind. The one I was unable to save. “I could have done more…”

“How? You gave them a home—a place to recover. You did more than enough.” She looks at me, and I know by her expression that she realizes I’m no longer talking about alligators. “Orion… whatever happened in the past… I’m sure you did everything you could.”

I shake my head, stooping to pick up a flower by my foot. It’s bright yellow, and happy, and not at all like Seraphina, but I offer it to her anyway.

She grabs it from my hand, but her frown only deepens.

“What?” I ask. “You don’t like flowers?”

“It’s not that…”

“Is it because of the whole ‘dying beauty’ thing? Because that’s corny, even for you, Seraphina.”

She throws her head back in a throaty chuckle, and when she returns, her golden eyes are brimming with mirth. “No… it’s because every time you pick a flower, you sever the plant's genitalia.”

My mouth falls open. “Seraphina… that’s so fucked up.”

She laughs harder, and the sound fills my chest with so much warmth, so much light, I’m afraid I might burst.

I step forward, grabbing her waist and pulling her against me. Her laughter halts, but that sheen in her eye remains, doing something strange to my insides.

“Do that again,” I breathe.

She blinks up at me, eyes wide. A piece of hair falls onto my brow, and she reaches up with a little chuckle, giving me a taste of what I want. In the same movement, she places the flower I picked for her behind her ear, a twinkle in her golden irises.

“I thought you didn’t want it?”

“I never said that.” She grins. “You gave it to me. It’s mine now. Plus, the plant can just grow a new sexual organ if it wants.”

I laugh, placing my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “You’re a strange little thing, did you know that?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m pretty sure it’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

I grip the back of her neck. “Oh, I’m far more than obsessed, my little dove. I’m fucking mad for you. Your taste, your touch, your smell.” I take a deep breath in through my nose, my cock straining toward her. “The little sounds you make when you’re dripping, desperate for my cock. Those are the things that really just drive me insane.” I jerk my hips forward, eyes dark and swirling as I gaze down at my little dove, trapping her in my orbit.

When she’s hot and panting and just at the edge, I pull away, leaving my oxygen with her. With a satisfied smirk, I brush my hair back off my forehead. “So… what’s your favorite color?”

Seraphina looks dazed, her brows coming together as she tries to adjust to the rapid change in subject. “I… what?”

“Your favorite color. Answer quickly.” I laugh, holding up the shock collar remote for her to see.

She raises a brow. “I don’t have a favorite color.” I press the button, and she jerks. “What the fuck? I answered!”

I tut. “Everyone has a favorite color.”

“Well, not me.”

“Maybe you just never thought about it before.”

She gazes at me, her eyes seeming to wander to something above my shoulders. “If I do, I wouldn’t know how to describe it. Just a dark, deep, swirling color. Only, it’s not blue, or black, or purple, it’s—” She rolls her lip between her teeth, eyes searching the air surrounding my frame. “It’s something more. Something different.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

She looks up at me. “It is,” she whispers, biting down hard on her bottom lip. “It really is.”

I kick at the ground, not sure what to do with all this newfound tension between us. “Well, mine’s obviously gold—for the color of your eyes.”

Seraphina crunches her nose. “God, I hate gold.”

“No one hates gold. That’s like hating ice cream or puppies!”

She eyes me. “Lots of people hate ice cream.”

“But not puppies.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure I could find someone.”

I nudge her with my shoulder, a cheeky grin on my face. “You know what you are? A cynic. I’ll have to train that out of you, my sweet dove. There’s so much to enjoy in life—drugs, sex, severed plant genitalia—the list goes on, really.”

Seraphina laughs hard, a sound that stops as abruptly as it came. When it’s gone, she stares out at the glassy lake, a memory swirling in her eyes.

“My turn to ask a question.”

I cross my arms. “Go for it.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” she asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Something other than what I ended up with.” A wry smile twists my lips. “What about you?”

“Nuh-uh. You have to tell me yours first.”

I shake my head. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t. Swear.”

I eye her warily. Then I shove my hand out at her. “Pinky promise?”

She hooks hers with mine without a second thought, rolling her eyes despite the smile tugging her pouty lips. “Pinky promise. Ya damn psycho.”

I take a deep breath, and before I lose my nerve, I blurt out, “I wanted to be a veterinarian.”

She presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “Oh really? That’s so nice.”

I frown, crossing my arms protectively. “You pinky promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not—I’m not going to laugh.”

“Uh-huh. Then why does your face look like that?”

“Look like what? Are you trying to say there’s something wrong with my face?” This time, she does let out a small laugh, only to clap her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

I frown. “It’s not that funny.”

She nods, composing her expression. “You’re right—a serial killer wanting to nurture small animals is totally normal. Not funny at all.”

“It’s not!”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, her eyes alight with mischief.

I eye her expression—so uncharacteristically open and free—and I decide to tell her something real. “My mom wanted to be a vet. I remember her studying for the entrance exam, poring over pages of anatomy textbooks by candlelight.” I give her a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “This was before the drugs, of course. Just before, actually—but I can still see her there as clear as day, her eyes clear and lucid, a little line between her brows.” I kick at the dirt, memories I’ve buried years ago sprouting free, playing like a slideshow in my mind. Her smile. Her embrace. The way she cared for me and little Annabelle.

Poor, innocent Annabelle.

Hatred hardens in the pit of my chest as I think about my little sister. At the way she cried and cried, begging to be fed. And the horrible sound of silence after, when she no longer did. For that, I will never forgive my mother.

As if there’s something left to forgive.

I shake my head, banishing those thoughts as I force a chuckle. “Okay, enough of my sob story. What did you want to be?”

Seraphina gazes at me for a long beat, a myriad of emotions crossing her face. Sympathy. Anger. Sadness.

It’s that last one that carves a fresh chasm in my soul.

Needing to take it away, I decide to remind her of our game, hoping to bring her some relief. “Come on, little dove. Don’t hold out on me.”

Seraphina blinks, clarity rushing back to her vision before a sad little smile crosses her lips. She looks out over the lake, glassy as the tears in her eyes. And for a while, she doesn’t speak. But when she does, her words hit me like a ton of bricks, making me forget everything—anything else.

“I wanted to be a mother.”

I stare at the beautiful girl, my heart breaking alongside hers. “You say that like… like you’ll never get to be one.”

Her lips tremble, but she can’t bring herself to look at me as she clutches her stomach. At the long, angry scar that I know runs across her belly. “I’m afraid they took that dream from me, too.”

My chest clenches as I look at her, at the devastated look in her eyes. “They didn’t…”

“They did,” she whispers, a single tear breaking free and carving a line down her face. “Madams are not allowed to have children… even the possibility—” Her voice breaks off as she chokes a silent sob. “They had to make sure there was no way for me to ever get pregnant. And there’s only one sure way…”

I can’t help it anymore—I wrap my arms around Seraphina, pulling her deep into my chest. I hug her as silent sobs wrack her shoulders, I support her weight when her legs won't carry her, and I clutch at every shattered piece of her, holding her together as she breaks down in my arms.

When her cries subside, I pull her into my arms, placing gentle kisses along her brow as I carry her back to the cabin. And I know this isn’t something I can fix or even make better—not by a long shot. Not in a million years

But fuck, am I going to try.

33

SERAPHINA

“FLYING LESSONS”

I wake the following morning with my eyes swollen shut and my throat aching from the amount of crying I did yesterday. I truly can’t remember the last time I broke down like that—if ever—and I’m a little worried about how comfortable I was letting Orion take care of me in that state.

Especially since he won’t take this fucking shock collar off.

I reach up to my neck, scrunching my nose at the feel of the thick leather strap cutting into my skin. I gaze to my right, noting Orion’s closed eyes and the soft snores pouring from his lips. If I’m going to do this, I have to do it now.

Reaching behind my neck, I find the clasp and work quickly to unlock the contraption. A soft pop sounds, and the collar falls from my neck. Breathing a sigh of relief, I reach up and massage the two red marks left on my skin from the metal prongs, a frown creasing my brow. What a dickhole.

As I glare at Orion’s sleeping face, a plan forms in the depths of my mind. With a smirk tugging at my lips, I pick up the collar and inch it toward his neck, biting my lip to stop the devious chuckle that wants to spring free.

Sliding one strap through the space between his neck and the mattress, I pull the other side over the top and force the clasp together, having to use far more force than I thought due to the thickness of his neck.

Orion’s eyes spring open at the sensation, but it’s too late. Snapping up the remote from his bedside table, I skitter backward off the mattress before he realizes what’s happened. My ass hits the floor with a bang, but there’s so much adrenaline coursing through me that I barely feel it.

Orion reaches up to the collar, a frown carving a path down his face as he watches me retreat to the other side of the room. He reaches to the back of his neck to undo the clasp, and I press the little red button, causing him to jump.

“Fuck!” He jerks his eyes to me, and I can’t help but shudder at the raw malice brimming there. “What the fuck are you doing, Seraphina?”

The way he says my name sends a shudder down my spine—but it’s not a good feeling. Steeling my shoulders, I wave the remote in the air, forcing a haughty expression onto my face.

“It seems I’m in control now.”

Instead of the anger I expect, Orion tips his head as a teasing smirk replaces his frown. “Are you? And what would you have me do?”

My pulse pounds in my ears as I take in the challenge in his eyes. Fuck… I didn’t actually think I would get this far.

Swallowing hard, I point a finger at the floor. “Crawl to me.”

A devious smirk tips my lips as I raise the remote above my head, getting high off the murderous sheen in Orion’s gaze. Without a word of dissent, Orion pushes off the bed, his chest heaving as he crouches down to all fours. And slowly—oh, so slowly—he does as I request. His forearms strain as he moves toward me, eyes dark and unblinking and causing my thighs to clench. The leather strap around his neck strains with each beat of his pulse, and I know if I look between his legs, I’ll find his cock hard and ready. The sight of Orion crawling to me shouldn’t be as hot as it is—yet it has me melting into a puddle on the floor.

When he reaches me, he rises to his knees, slowly sliding his palms from my ankles to my hips and resting there. He looks up at me through impossibly long lashes, a sharp canine bared as he bites the corner of his lip.

“You have me now, Seraphina. What are you going to do with me?”

“I… I don’t…” My brain is mush as I stare down at him, numb to everything but the warmth spreading from my inner thighs. Fuck me, is what I want to say—the only two words I would be able to form—but there’s no way I’m going to say it. Not when I’m finally in control.

Orion chuckles, the sound dark and sinful as it rolls off his lips. “What is it, dove? Someone lose their nerve?”

He snaps a hand up to his neck, ripping the collar off in one swift movement. I barely have time to blink before he’s standing, pulling me from the floor and tossing me to the mattress. His thighs hit the top of the bed, and that same dark look from earlier returns to his eyes as he crawls toward me.

He climbs on top, his tattooed forearms straining on either side of my head, that dark smirk still pulling at his sinful mouth. He leans low, his breaths coasting over my neck and causing my skin to prickle, desperate for his touch. His kiss.

“Orion,” I moan, closing my eyes tight as a shudder runs through my body. “Orion, I need to come.”

“I know.” He takes a deep breath of me and takes my skin between his teeth. I let out a pained hiss, but pleasure blooms all the same. He sucks and kisses the spot, reaching a hand down and cupping the chastity belt covering my clit. His fingertips work under the edge, an appreciative hum rumbling from his chest at the slick arousal he finds.

“Too bad you haven’t learned how to be good.”

A choked sound falls from my lips as Orion pulls away, a devious smile curving his mouth. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” He stands from the bed, sparing me one last appreciative glance before moving to the dresser and finding me a fresh pair of clothes. “Put these on. I want to show you something.”

I shove the clothes on and follow Orion into the living room, finding him with a smile and a pair of hiking boots in his hands.

I raise a brow. “What are those for?”

“Just put them on.” He tosses them along with a pair of socks to the floor at my feet. “Then meet me outside.”

The tang of cypress sap assaults me as soon as I step into the small clearing, squinting my eyes against the sun that breaks through the sparse canopy. As soon as he sees me, Orion takes off, disappearing into the brush, and I have no choice but to follow him. We walk for a good half an hour before we reach the end of the forest. I step past the tree line, surprised to find Orion standing at the edge of a cliff, his arms spread wide and his head tilted back as the violent breeze whips through his hair.

“Come on!” he calls, ushering me closer. “It’s beautiful over here!”

Stomach twisting, I do as he says. I stop a few feet from the edge, leaning forward so I can see past the edge, and my heart drops when I realize how high up we are. Waves crash against the pointed rocks below, violent and white-capped and waiting to claim the life of whoever falls to its depths.

Shuddering, I try to take a step backward, only for Orion to grip my wrist and haul me to the edge. My mouth opens in a wordless scream as he positions me in front of him, my toes hanging from the ledge. I lean as far back against him as I can, the warmth of his chest seeping into me, easing some of my anxiety.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he grips my chin with the other, forcing my eyes to the skyline. “I got you, little dove,” he whispers. “Just look.”

I blink out at the open blue, the beauty of the sight taking me hostage and filling me with awe. It really is beautiful up here—so quiet, so peaceful—like we’re standing at the edge of the world.

“Wow…” My mouth falls slightly as my gaze catches on a couple of gulls gliding along the breeze, their white-tipped wings gleaming in the morning sun. “I had no idea… I didn’t think there was a place like this in Moriton.”

“Wait until I show you the waterfall.” Orion presses his lips to the thrumming vein on my neck. “You might like that even more.”

I turn to face him, leaning my upper half backward over the edge and letting him hold me. For some reason—one I’m not going to try to understand—I feel like I trust this man. At least here, at this moment, I know he would never let me fall.

“Thank you for showing this to me,” I whisper. “I needed something like this after yesterday…”

He frowns, wiping his thumb over my cheek where a stray tear has fallen. “I wish I could take your pain from you, little dove. If I could wish for one thing in this life, it would be that.”

“Really? You wouldn’t wish for me to be in love with you?” I slam my mouth closed as soon as the question falls from my lips. Where the fuck did that come from?

Thankfully, Orion seems not to have heard me. Instead of answering, he pulls me tighter against him, his eyes burning as he whispers, “Do you trust me, Seraphina?”

I blink up at him, unsure of how to answer the question. His hands—his soul is stained with murder. He’s done terrible things to me and to others—and he seems to show no remorse about it. But something in me screams—demands for me to realize the truth. That for all his faults, all his fucked-up-ness, Orion will protect me with his last breath.

And in the moment, I decide that I do. I trust him implicitly.

I nod, my eyes wide as I allow him this brief glance of my fragility. “I shouldn’t… I really fucking shouldn’t, Orion. But I do…”

He smiles, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. It’s free of arrogance, of all the malice I’m accustomed to. Right now, he just looks…happy.

“I’m so happy to hear that.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

And then he shoves me off the cliff.

“What the fuck!”

The air whips around me as I fall through the air, each millisecond taking me closer to the jagged rocks below. I should be more concerned about my brain smashing onto them, yet as my imminent demise nears, I’m overcome by a disturbing thought.

Are those my last words?

I raise my fist to the sky, my face a twisted mess of rage as I scream, “Fuck you, dirty onion! Fuck you, your penis, and everything you stand for!”

There. Much better.

I close my eyes, awaiting the sweet release of death. But then a pair of strong arms wraps around my middle, and then I’m soaring, flying higher and higher into the skies.

Wait… that’s not possible.

I look over my shoulder, not believing my eyes even as the hang glider contraption strapped to Orion’s back takes us higher and higher into the air. Two great metal wings spread out from his shoulders, held tightly to his back by thick leather straps that wrap around his chest and abdomen, leaving his arms free.

I’ve seen the contraption only once before—as a child when we visited the Sanctum headquarters. The memory is foggy, but I still remember the sight of that Mask standing on top of the building, at the strange metal wings strapped to his back. When he jumped, I was sure I would see a man lose his life—only to watch him sail back into the sky a moment later as his glider caught the breeze.

I have no earthly idea how Orion came into possession of this equipment, but I’m also not going to question it when it’s the only thing keeping me from certain death. Instead, I wrap my hands around Orion’s forearm, my fingers digging into his skin as we sail higher into the sky.

He looks down at me, giving me his million-dollar smile as he tugs me closer to his chest. “I told you I got you, little dove. You want to take back that last statement?”

The urge to smack him upside his head takes over me, but the fear of death still lingers, so I keep my hands to myself. Orion dips the nose toward the water, and we start a free-fall, the salty sea breeze smacking me across the face the closer we get to the water.

Just before we crash into the wave, Orion jerks upward, and the glider stabilizes, allowing us to sail across the surface of the water like I had seen those gulls do earlier.

My mouth falls in wonder as I reach a hand down, allowing my fingertips to break the surface. A trail streams out behind us as the cool water laps at my hand, and I lower the other, marveling at the gentle tug of the water against my skin.

“Look to your right!” Orion jerks his head to where a school of dolphins is breaking the surface, dozens of slate gray fins popping up only to disappear a moment later as they dive below the waves. A squeal falls from my lips as I watch them sail through the water, wishing more than anything I could reach out and touch one.

Seeming to read my mind, Orion takes a hard right, flying us closer to the school. When we’re right on top of them, Orion grabs my hand, pushing it beneath the waves. My fingertips brush something smooth and weirdly slick, and I nearly yank my hand away. But Orion holds me there, shifting my hand so it passes over the gentle curve of the dolphin's dorsal fin.

Sensing my touch, the dolphin swivels, turning itself belly up as its tail fin works overtime to keep it moving. My eyes widen in shock as Orion lets out a full-bellied laugh, and he doesn’t need to guide me this time. Placing my palm flat on its belly, I give it a couple of scritches like I would the tigers, and the dolphin lets out an elated cackle.

Flapping its pectoral fins, it disappears into the depths of the water, leaving me to wonder if that interaction really just happened. Orion lets out a whooping noise, tilting the nose of the glider up and taking us back into the air.

We soar through the open air, a cool breeze whipping through my hair, sticking it to my face. But I’m so overjoyed, I can’t seem to feel it. The only two things I know for sure are the man steady at my back and the tattooed arm holding me, keeping me in the clouds.

When Orion begins the descent, it seems far too soon. He crests downward at an angle, expertly steering us through a massive cavern in the cliffside I hadn’t noticed when we were standing at the top. In fact, the only way you would be able to see the cavern is if you were flying like we are—even from a boat, you wouldn’t be able to get close enough to the rocks to see the small opening.

Orion twists the glider at an angle, the wingspan just wide enough to fit between the rocky cliffs on either side. I squeal when the right wing scrapes the side, but Orion just laughs, tipping the front downward as we make our descent. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing but a thick swath of canopy beneath us, and I have no earthly idea how we’re going to make this landing unscathed.

To my surprise, instead of taking us to the ground, Orion steers the glider to a small outcropping jutting from the side of the cliff. He lands on the flat rock, holding me impossibly tight as he steadies his stance, fighting against the wind trying to take us back into the air.

With a grunt, he manages to collapse the wings, shoving the contraption deep into the slot of his backpack before throwing it back over his shoulders. He takes my hand with a grin, leading me toward the edge of the outcropping.

I shake my head, digging in my heels as he drags me over. “Nuh-uh. I am not being thrown from a cliff twice in one day.”

Orion laughs, pulling me in front of him and wrapping his arms firmly around my stomach. His breath tickles the shell of my ear as he speaks, stoking the anxiety flaring beneath my skin. “How about we jump together?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea eithe⁠—-”

The rest of the word is lost to my scream as Orion launches us from the ledge, and we plummet to the canopy below. I close my eyes, bracing for impact as we swoop past the thick layer of foliage, free-falling to certain death.

Instead of the hard earth, we crash into a deep body of water hidden beneath the treetops. The chill lake steals my breath as I plummet beneath the surface, kicking and clawing wildly even as my body is dragged down, down, down.

Black spots line my vision as I kick into the dark nothingness, panic squeezing the air from me and dispersing it in an explosion of bubbles. Just when I think I’m a goner, Orion’s calloused hand grips my arm, tugging me easily to the surface. When my head breaks the surface, I draw in a heaving gulp of air, my eyes like daggers as I take in Orion’s nonchalant expression.

“You… could have… killed me… you… fucking… moldy onion…”

Orion just laughs, shaking his head like the thought is ridiculous. “If you think that, then you clearly don’t realize how much I care for you.”

My eyes widen as I take in the raw emotion brimming in his eyes. I try to speak, find my words locked in my throat, and swallow them down. Orion tugs me closer, wrapping my legs around his waist as his hand slides up to cup the back of my neck. His gaze is smoldering, and lights a fire beneath my skin, warming me despite the chill of the lake.

“Do you trust me, Seraphina?” He applies pressure to my neck. “Even now? After everything I’ve done to you, despite all the things I will? Will you give that to me, sweet dove? Or will you keep your heart locked in that pretty gilded cage?”

Just like I did on the cliff, I try to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t. All the things that should make me run from this man, screaming. Only, when I go to list them, I can’t find a single one. And maybe it’s delusional, or crazy, or both, but right now, I need some of that in my life. I’ve been needing it for a while.

“I trusted you then, and I trust you now.” I press my forehead against his, allowing my eyes to close. “I don’t know why I feel this way, but I can’t stop it. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard.” At this, I look at him, finding his sky-blue eyes fixed on my face as if he’s committing every feature to memory.

“I’ve been waiting for you to break for me, Seraphina.” His gaze heats, and the pressure on my neck increases tenfold. “But right here, right now, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

His eyes meet mine, and the emotion there scares me. Terrifies and ignites me. Without waiting for his permission, I press on my toes.

And I kiss him.

34

ORION

“CALM BEFORE THE STORM”

Seraphina is kissing me. Seraphina’s lips are on mine. Seraphina is⁠—

Mine. Mine, all mine.

My thoughts shudder to a halt as Seraphina’s legs tighten around my waist, pressing her sex onto my throbbing cock. I hiss through my teeth, moving us toward a shallow spot so I can do what I’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

As soon as my feet touch the ground, I let go of her neck and rip my pants off, letting them fall to the bottom of the lake as I tear Seraphina’s shorts away from her body. I allow the tattered remains to join my pants as I slip my fingers under the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it over her head with one swift movement.

Seraphina gasps as the cold air hits her chest, causing her nipples to harden into painful points. I lean down, taking one between my lips and sucking languidly on her flesh.

“Fuck, you’re always so delicious.” I flick the tip of my tongue against her nipple. She pants a breathy moan, and I slide my hand between us, my fingers hooking on the edge of the chastity belt. I rip it from her, causing the ribbed edges of the dildo to slide and tug against her wall, and Seraphina screams as her orgasm rips through her.

I cup her breast as her head falls backward, holding her shuddering body against mine as wave after wave of pleasure flows through her. When she’s done, her eyes are glassy, a drunken smile tugging at her mouth that sends a fresh wave of blood to my cock.

Staring deep into her eyes, I fist my cock, positioning the head at her slick entrance. Seraphina jerks her hips, desperation cutting across her face as she tries to lower herself, but I hold her in place, needing to feel her like this just a little longer. Dripping. Desperate. Consumed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you, Seraphina.” I lower her, nearly losing it as her tight pussy grips my cock in a way I’ve never had before. It’s like she was fucking made for me—like her pussy was designed for my cock to fit in it.

“Fuck.” I close my eyes as my balls clench. “Fuck. This fucking pussy.” My eyes roll as I hit the back of her walls, fighting against the rush of pleasure that demands I fill her. Claim her.

“Please, Orion,” she moans, throwing her head back as she tries to sit lower on my cock. “Please… I need more.”

Breathing hard, I slowly start to move in her, each thrust pure agony as I fight to contain the thing in me that wants to destroy her. To hurt her.

“More, more!” Seraphina pants, digging her nails into my back as her eyes shutter closed. “Fuck me, Orion. Fuck me!”

With a snarl, I thrust into her violently, drawing a silent scream from her lips as the full length of my cock slides inside her. Tears brim her eyes as I slam my cock in and out of her, and I lose my sense to the touch, the taste, the feel of her walls choking my dick.

Seraphina’s head falls back with a scream of pleasure, her walls shuddering around me—and I’m gone.

“Fuck me.” I pull Seraphina impossibly closer as I throb deep within her. She rolls her hips, bringing my pleasure to new heights as I fill her with every last drop of my seed.

When I’m done, I keep my cock inside her, pressing my forehead to hers as our chests rise and fall in time. Seraphina hums her appreciation as she leans forward, pressing her soft lips to the tip of my nose.

My eyes spring open, and I nearly cough out my heart when I see Seraphina smiling. It’s a different smile than I’ve seen before—it’s free of pain, of the shadowy memories that hide deep within. It's… the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Seraphina…” My mouth parts, unable to find the words to describe the feeling filling up my chest. “Seraphina, I⁠—”

“Are you ready to go home?” she murmurs, her lids hooded as her smile turns shy. “I’m kind of… cold.”

I run my palms along the goose bumps covering her arms, a secret smile of my own tugging at my lips. “For you… I’d do anything.”

A joy-filled laugh fills the air as I haul Seraphina from the water, holding her tight to my chest as I make my way through the woods and back toward the cabin.

After all, my girl is cold. And I know more than one way to warm her up.

35

SERAPHINA

“SOMETHING DEADLY APPROACHES”

I snuggle deeper into Orion’s chest, breathing in his earthy scent as he steps into the clearing around the cabin. We’re halfway to the steps when his muscles tense, and he stops walking. I look up at him, surprised to find his expression closed off. Severe.

Without a word, he places me on the ground, his eyes locked on the front door. “Something’s wrong. Wait here.”

He makes it about two paces away before I run after him, my throat constricting as I watch him pull out a long silver dagger from his backpack. Hearing me behind him, he stops, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “I told you to wait.”

“Yeah. Fuck that.” I raise my brows in a challenge. “Give me a dagger. I can help you if something is wrong.”

Orion sighs, reaching into his backpack and tossing me a considerably smaller dagger. I scrunch my brows at what is essentially a paring knife, disgust curling my lip. “What am I supposed to do with this? Peel potatoes?”

Orion rolls his eyes. “God, you’re impossible. Switch with me.” I grin as he hands over the daddy dagger, trying out the weight of the blade in my palm before delivering two swift strikes to the air. “Yeah. This will do perfectly.”

Orion makes a choked noise as he takes off toward the front door, the paring knife absolutely ridiculous in his bear paw of a hand. However, it doesn’t take anything away from the menacing sight that is his expression as he shoves open the front door.

Immediately, my eyes lock onto two men in gold-plated bird masks standing in the middle of the living room. They seem just as surprised to see us as we are them, and it takes them a few seconds before they reach for the daggers strapped to their waists.

But by then, it’s too late.

In tandem, Orion and I launch our blades across the room. Mine slams right through the eye slit in the first man’s mask, penetrating deep into his brain tissue. His body slumps to the floor as Orion’s victim lets out a bellowing scream, clutching the mini dagger sticking out of his eye socket.

I turn to Orion, a haughty smirk tipping my lips. “I told you that dagger was useless.”

He rolls his eyes, striding to the screaming man in two lumbering steps. He holds him in place while I walk to the fallen man, yanking the dagger from his eye. I scrunch my nose at the disgusting squelching sound that accompanies the movement, wiping the blood on the dead man’s suit jacket before straightening.

The second man struggles in Orion’s hold, but it’s useless. I take slow steps toward him, a devious smile lighting my face as I raise the dagger to his other eye. Never blinking, I shove the blade through his eye, only satisfied when his body slumps lifelessly in Orion’s arms.

With a disgusted noise, Orion drops the body, giving it a kick for good measure. “You know these guys?”

I stare at the golden bird masks strapped to their faces, a pit of unease swirling in my gut as I stoop to remove the daggers. “I think so…”

With my free hand, I pull the mask from the man's face, but I don’t recognize him. So he’s a new recruit of the Sanctum.

The thought fills me with unease. Just how much have they been able to rebuild? It’s been a decade, but I thought it would take much longer before they posed a threat to this city again…

Orion drags the bodies outside, leaving me with my thoughts. How did they find me? Why did they? It doesn’t make any sense⁠—

I snap upright, my eyes going wide as I think back to that night at the Neon Flamingo. Ivan… he escaped, didn’t he? And if he’s alive and searching for me…

“Oh God, he didn’t…” I clutch my chest as the reality of the situation becomes clear. Ivan was one of the only people who knew of my connection to the Sanctum—he’d found out shortly after I started seeing him and has been holding it over my head since. Promising if I ever made him angry, he would tell them where I was. Would lead them directly to me. I always thought he was bluffing. That he just used it as a tactic to keep me coming back to him. Never in a million years did I think he would contact them.

When Orion returns, he finds me huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth with a glazed expression. He rushes over, crouching in front of me and cupping my face in his bloodied palms, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Little dove… what’s the matter?”

He looks so broken, so confused, but every time I try, I can’t make the words come out of my mouth.

“It’s okay, Seraphina.” He tugs me into his chest. “It’s okay… I got you.”

I shake my head, surprised to find tears streaming down my face. “They… they found me.”

“Who, little dove?” He reels back, his eyes searching my face desperately. “Who found you?”

My body shudders, and suddenly, I can’t look at him anymore. “You should leave,” I whisper, hanging my head. “They’ll kill you if they find you with me.”

“Who, Seraphina?” He shakes my shoulders, his voice rising. “Whoever it is, I’ll fucking kill them. No one will get to you while I’m around. No one.”

I reach up, placing a hand against his racing heart. “You can’t make that promise, Orion.”

As I think about all the things the Sanctum are capable of, a horrifying thought comes to mind. Vee and Maggie. Oh God, what if they were somehow able to find the mountain hideout or the apartment?

I rise to a stand, my mind racing. I never told Ivan about my apartment in the city—wanting to keep Maggie’s safe place a secret—but I’m positive I mentioned my hideout in the mountains to him. And if that’s the case, then Vee is in terrible danger.

“I have to go.”

I take a step toward the door, but Orion is faster. He jumps in front of the doorway, his arms spread wide and a furious expression on his face. “You’re not leaving,” he growls. “I won’t let you.”

I tilt my head, a sad little smile tipping my lips. “You won’t let me?” I shake my head, tightening my grip around the daggers in my palm. “You seem to have forgotten who I am.”

Before he can blink, I lunge forward with the paring knife, shoving it deep into his gut. Orion folds forward on instinct, and I use his moment of disorientation to crouch low, dragging the blade of the daddy dagger across the backs of his heels.

Orion’s body crashes to the floor at the same time I jump back, barely missing his arms as he reaches out to grab me.

“Fuck!” His eyes squint against the jarring pain as he attempts to right himself. “Fuck!”

Before he can push off the floor, I rush toward him, ripping the paring knife from his gut and plunging it through the top of his hand braced against the floorboards. He lets out a furious howl as he tries to yank the blade from the wood, but his free hand is too slicked with blood to get a firm purchase on the handle.

His bright blue eyes gleam with hatred as I step forward, flipping the daddy dagger around in my hand so I’m gripping the bladed portion. Chest heaving, I bring the handle under his chin, raising it so he’s looking me directly in the eyes.

“You can’t keep someone like me,” I whisper. “You had me this long because I let you. If I really cared to leave—if I really wanted to…” I don’t finish the rest of the sentence. Because it’s true, and I’m just realizing it at this moment. All the things that Orion did to me—I could have escaped any time I wanted. I could have stopped him any time I wanted. But I never did. And I don’t have the time to unpack the why just now.

“Seraphina…” His throat bobs, and his eyes—God, they’re so, so sad. So hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I thrust the butt of the handle to the side of his temple, and he falls to the floor, unconscious.

As I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I expect to be filled with some kind of resolve. Something that will tell me I made the right choice.

Instead, the only thing I feel is remorse.

36

SERAPHINA

“JUST A BAD DREAM”

I jam Orion’s keys into the ignition of his truck, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when the engine rumbles to life on the first try. I jerk the gear into reverse, not even looking where I’m going as I attempt to turn the truck around.

As I’m shifting into drive, the cabin door bursts open, and I watch as Orion’s mouth opens in a heartbroken cry. He starts running toward the truck, and I force my eyes away, slamming my foot down on the gas as I peel off into the opening between the trees. When I look in my rearview, Orion has fallen to his knees, his bright blue eyes locked onto the tail of the truck as it disappears into the forest. My chest squeezes, but I force my attention to the road, carefully dodging stray limbs and rocks that jut out onto the thin path.

It’s thirty whole minutes before I make it to Vee’s. I park the truck at the edge of the clearing and jump out, not bothering to turn the engine off as I sprint toward the mountainside. Because I’ve noticed something—something that causes my heart to fall out of my chest.

The door is wide open.

“Vee!” My voice cracks as I call into the pitch-black mouth of the tunnel. “Vee, are you in there?”

Silence greets me, and I stumble into the dark, my hand brushing the wall to guide me as I maneuver the long hallway. When I enter the large circular foyer, only one sconce is lit, casting ominous shadows along the walls and floor.

My throat bobs as I catch a glimpse of a dark stain on the middle door handle. A stain that looks a whole lot like dried blood.

“No,” I moan. “No, no, no…”

The doors on either side are sprung wide open, the frames shattered like someone took a battering ram to them. From here, I can see clear into the tiger’s rooms, though my great furry beasts are nowhere to be seen.

I shake my head, unable to believe something has happened to them as I step forward, my palm closing around the door handle. I throw it open, fighting the urge to stumble back as the acrid stench of blood and sweat assaults my senses.

It looks like a tornado went through the room—cabinets torn open, couches thrown over, pillows sliced open with stuffing strewn across the floor—but the worst is the sight of Vee’s bookshelf. Her cherished possessions are strewn across the bloodied floor, some cut open, others burned to melted puddles on the ground. The glass case that held the onyx duck I had bought for Vee is smashed apart, the contents empty, and the fowl missing.

From what I can see, three dead bodies are strewn across the room, golden bird masks strapped to their faces and spattered with fresh blood. Deep, linear gashes run all across their flesh, oozing thick red liquid into the carpets and pooling along the stone floor. I have no doubt it’s the work of the tigers, and I gaze around the room for any signs of Sviato or Savyne, my heart falling when I come up with nothing.

With nothing left to do but hope they managed to escape through the open door, I gaze around the room for signs of Vee.

“Vee? Are you here?” My knees wobble as I stand there, holding my breath and praying for a word, a sound—anything to tell me Vee is alive.

And then I hear it—a gasp.

“Vee!” I rush around the island in the kitchen. I’m so happy, so overjoyed that she’s still alive, but my relief is cut short when I take in her state—at the dying light of her aura. There’s a deep, oozing gash sliced diagonally across her chest, spreading across her blouse and staining it red. Her skin—normally so vibrant and tan—glows pale in the flickering kitchen light, a thick sheen of sweat coating every exposed inch. She sucks small, shuddering gasps in through slightly parted lips, and with each exhale, a puddle of blood drips farther down the side of her chin.

And her eyes—oh God, her eyes. The calming bloodstone hue I know and love has been replaced with an ugly, milky-gray color. Almost like she’s… blind.

“No.” I fall to my knees in a puddle of blood. “No. Please, no.”

I reach a hand out to touch her, only to yank my arm away as a rattling gasp exits Vee’s lips. Her eyes pop wide as she reaches up, her clouded eyes staring somewhere over my shoulder as she caresses my face. Thin lips pull upward, causing deep wrinkles to form in the corners of her eyes and mouth, but they only serve to make her look more beautiful.

“Is that you, Aaron?” she whispers. Her voice is a dying croak, but despite that, it’s filled with so much joy. And that look on her face… seeing it now, I realize I’ve never once seen Vee truly happy in all the years I’ve known her.

Aaron…

She must think I’m her old love, Aaron. The one who gave her the ducks.

“Aaron?” Her smile drops as she struggles to sit up—to find her Aaron again.

With my heart cracking, I place my hand atop hers that is still clinging to my cheek, praying the tears won’t fall and break this ruse. “I’m here, Elvira. It’s me, Aaron. I’m Here.”

“Oh, Aaron!” Her eyes squint as a fresh wave of moisture builds in the corners. “Aaron, I’ve been so worried about you. Those masked people told me they killed you after they found us together that night. They taunted me with it, but I knew better.” She clutches her small black duck tightly in her palm. “I knew you would come back for me.”

My throat burns with the strength I keep my sob inside. For a moment, I don’t know if I can carry on with this—but then I look down at her. At my Vee. At my poor, dying Vee.

“I will always protect you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” I whisper, wishing I could have more time with her. Wishing, selfishly, that I could say goodbye as Seraphina.

Vee brushes her thumb across my cheek, frowning slightly at the wetness she finds there. “Aaron… why ever are you crying?”

“I’m just so happy to see you.” I choke on the lie as I brush her silvery hair back from her bloodied forehead. “I missed you.” I will always miss you.

“Oh. I missed you too.” She smiles up at the ceiling, and for a moment, she’s the picture of serenity. I watch as her eyes close slowly, as she labors with each breath she draws. “But we’re together now, aren’t we?”

I nod, unable to stop the choked sound that claws out my throat. “We are, Vee. Together.”

“Vee?” Her eyes flutter open for the briefest moment, a deep eleven between her brows. “Vee… that sounds familiar.”

I shake my head even though I know she can’t see it. “Maybe you imagined it.”

“Yes… yes, I must have, mustn't I?” Her eyes drift closed once more, and I stifle a sob, preparing for the last breath to leave her. But a few moments later, she jerks awake with a gasp.

“Aaron? Aaron?” She looks around blindly, her eyes wide with fright.

“I’m here.” I continue to brush her hair back. “I’m still here.”

“Oh.” She relaxes once more, her eyes fixing on a point on the ceiling and never wavering. “Oh, Aaron, I had the strangest dream.”

“Really?” My voice is hoarse with emotion. “What was it about?”

“Oh, it was so awful...” Her lips quiver as she stares at that one spot, like somehow, it will tether her to this earth. “I dreamed—I dreamed that I was old. That you were gone, and life was…” She shudders, her eyes taking on a glossy sheen. “It was all just a bad dream, wasn’t it, Aaron?”

“Of course.” My words come out in broken, heaving sobs. “Of course it was.”

She smiles. Her chest rises once more, and then never again.

I clutch her frail body to me, closing my eyes tight as her warm blood seeps into my clothes. This isn’t real. Vee can’t be gone. She can’t.

Yet she is.

“Vee,” I whisper, brushing her hair behind her ear. I’m numb all over, forced to look at the lifeless body of the woman who was like a mother to me. And where all that nothingness had been a moment ago is suddenly filled with raw, blistering hate.

Who did this? Who would dare to hurt someone I love?

The answer comes as fast as the question—as true as the golden masks on the intruder's faces. The Sanctum did this. They took her from me, like they’ve taken nearly everything else.

A nasty snarl twists my face as I lean my head back, screaming my pain into the empty skies above. Wishing, praying someone will listen, will bring her back.

Nobody does.

My sobs are cut off abruptly as the sound of shuffling footsteps makes their way to my ears. I raise my head, surprised to see Orion standing in the doorway, his face ashen as he stares at the carnage—at the dead woman in my arms. The aura bursting from his shoulders is tinged with blue, swirling and melting into the black and eating up all the light in the room.

“Seraphina…” He takes a step toward me, bright blue eyes piercing me through the shadows. “Seraphina… let me help you.”

I stare at him unblinking, the corners of my vision crowding with red as my broken mind twists and weaves its own narrative. If he hadn’t killed those people at the Neon Flamingo… if he hadn’t kidnapped me, the Sanctum probably would never have found me. If he just left me the fuck alone, none of this would have happened. Vee would still be alive.

“Get. Out.” My voice is not my own, morphed into something vile—born of hatred. Of fury. “Murderer.”

He shakes his head, coming to a dead stop as his eyes widen, pain brimming from those clear blue depths. So it seems he’s come to the same conclusion as me. That this is his fault.

“Seraphina… I never knew this would happen,” he whispers. “If I thought—I only wanted to make you happy. To⁠—”

“Happy?” A laugh fills the air, but it holds no joy. “Happy? You have destroyed one of the only things that ever made me ‘happy.’”

He takes a step back, his head shifting side to side. “I don’t—I never meant⁠—”

“You’re a fucking monster.” My eyes narrow in hatred. “You’re sick. Delusional. And now Vee is the one who has to pay the price.”

Squaring his shoulders, he begins moving toward me again. “We’ll work together. We’ll take down whoever is responsible for this. We’ll⁠—”

“There is no ‘we’!” I scream, my chest heaving.

Orion is breathing just as hard, his pupils blowing, eating up the blue until his eyes are one black circle. “Seraphina, I love you! You think I would have done any of that—any of it, if I thought it would lead to this? I’ve been trying to take care of you in the only way—the one way I know how! Let me help you, please,” he begs.

I shake my head sadly, all the fight seeping from my veins. “Go away, Orion…” I drop my eyes, staring down at Vee’s lifeless face. “Please, just… leave us alone.”

His eyes widen, and he takes a step back as a strange emotion flits over his face, his aura deepening to a menacing pitch. “I can’t do that. Please, let me help you. I can fix this⁠—”

“Fucking leave us!” I scream, hot tears streaming down my face. Red swarms my vision, blotting out Orion's horrified expression. The pain of Vee’s death is too raw, too real, too much, and I desperately grab onto anything else but this emotion.

I settle on anger.

“You’ve done enough.” I turn from him to glance down at Vee’s pallid, lifeless features. “Just leave.”

He shakes his head. “Seraphina, I love yo⁠—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I bare my teeth at him in a nasty snarl. “You tell me now? You tell me now, when I’m holding Vee’s dead body in my arms? You don’t love me—you’re just obsessed with getting me to love you. Well, trying to manipulate me when I’m down isn’t going to fucking work. I’ve been through worse than you, Orion Adair. I hate you! I hate you, and I always fucking will.”

His face falls, and for a moment, my grip on my anger slips, making way for guilt to twist its way into my heart. “You don’t mean that…”

I could be silent. I could say nothing. But everything in me–-everything I am wants to rip the walls from this place. I’m so angry. There’s no room for anything else.

“I meant every fucking word,” I snarl. “Leave. Go, and don’t you dare look back.”

He just stands there staring, and in a fit of rage, I rip the shoe from my foot and fling it at his head. “FUCKING LEAVE! You’ve ruined everything!”

I collapse onto Vee, great shuddering sobs wracking my body as the pain tries to escape. But every time some of it seeps from my pores or falls from my mouth, it’s replaced by that endless stream of sorrow opening up in my chest.

I don’t hear Orion leave, but he's gone when I look back up. With an anguished sob, I rake my nails against the stone floor until they’re bloody and raw. But it’s nothing compared to the pain raging inside my chest. Nothing compared to the flame of hate igniting everything I am.

They took her. They took her. They took her.

With a cry, I push to my feet, my gaze molten as I curse the heavens above. As I vow to murder every single last one of the people—no, the monsters—who took Vee away from me. Just as I’m about to turn away from her, I notice something clutched in her palm. It’s small and black and looks suspiciously like…

The duck. The obsidian duck I gave to Vee.

A new cavern opens in my chest as I crouch down, gently pulling the duck from her hand and clutching it to my heart. “I will avenge you,” I promise, bending to place one last kiss along Vee’s pale forehead. “If it’s the last thing I do, I will right this terrible wrong.” I walk toward the exit, my shoulders held high despite the terrible weight pressing down on me.

Though, for all my perceived strength, I can’t find it in myself to look back.

37

ORION

“GONE”

I stand in the shadow of the brush, my eyes locked on Seraphina as she walks toward my blue truck. I couldn’t just leave her, but I also couldn’t stay. Not when she looked at me like that. Like she⁠—

I can’t finish the rest of the thought. Because if I think about the hatred in her eyes, I’ll fall apart. I’ll shatter into a million, billion tiny pieces, and I’ll never be able to put myself back together. So I stand here, watching her long legs strain as she steps into the cabin of the truck.

How can something so close be so fucking far out of reach? It defies the laws of nature, the universe. And I can’t—I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not now.

Yet I have.

I lost her.

I never had her.

The sick realization twists into my mind and causes my heart to burst, and I fall to my knees, watching the taillights disappear into the forest, leaving me with nothing but exhaust, heartache, and the knowledge of what I know to be true.

She’s gone.

PART THREE

THE ENDING

38

SERAPHINA

“THE RED LINE”

I press my foot to the gas, not caring how fast I’m speeding as I race toward Maggie’s and my apartment. I can’t begin to fathom what I would do if they were able to find her—if I lost Maggie on the same day I lost Vee. My mind is a mess as I slam the truck into park on the sidewalk, leaving the keys in the ignition and the door open wide as I race up the steps of the apartment.

My chest is heaving by the time I make it to the second floor, my hands quaking as I try to jam my key into the lock. I throw open the door, charging inside as my eyes fly wildly around the room, searching for anything out of place.

Thankfully, nothing looks like it’s been ransacked—and I guess the fact the door was locked should have tipped me off to that, but I was just too out of my mind after what happened with Vee. I stand in the center of the room for a moment, steadying my emotions before I have to face Maggie.

I move toward her door, not bothering to knock, before I throw the door wide. A massive wave of relief crests over my shoulder as I see Maggie sitting in bed, her eyes closed and humming a gentle tune. Except it’s not a happy one—not at all—and something about the haunting lilt reminds me of the song Orion sang to me in the forest.

Her eyes pop when she senses me standing there, and a bright white smile eats up her freckled face. “Nina! I’m so happy you’re ho⁠—”

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence as I throw my arms around her. Tears leak from my eyes as I run a hand over her curly red hair, half of me still not believing she’s genuinely okay. “Magoo… Magoo, I promise I will never leave you ever again.”

She pulls back, her brows furrowed in worry. “Nina? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, not having the strength to tell her what happened to Vee just yet. “I just… oh God, I’m so happy you’re okay.” I pull her in for another hug, holding tight even when she starts to wriggle from my hold.

“Ow! Nina, you’re squishing me!” A laugh bubbles from her lips, easing some of the sorrow throbbing beneath my skin. Instead of letting go, I pull her even closer, my throat burning from the strength I keep my sobs inside.

“Magoo… I don’t know what I would do without you.” I close my eyes as a tear leaks free. “Promise we’ll never be apart. Promise me, Magoo.”

“Silly Nina. Of course we’ll always be together!” She pulls back with a carefree smile on her face. “We’re the bestest of friends. I could never leave you.”

I nod, clutching to her words and willing them to be true. “Okay. Okay, good.” I slowly release my grip, pulling back with an embarrassed grin. “Sorry… I just⁠—”

“You don’t need to explain, Nina. I understand.” Her eyes hold some unspoken words I can’t make out, and right now, I don’t think I want to.

Her hand pats the duck poking out of my pocket. “What’s this?”

I pull it out, my heart heavy as I hold out the little black duck in my palm.

“It’s just a stupid duck,” I whisper, throwing it onto the couch. I don’t want a duck. I want Vee. And the reality that I never will again is too painful to bear.

A tinkling noise draws my attention to the floor, and I’m surprised to find a small storage locker key lying beneath the coffee table. I step toward it, stooping and pinching the silver key between my fingers.

“What the heck?” Maggie steps to my side and inspects the key. “Oh, how exciting! I wonder what it unlocks?”

“Yeah… I’m wondering that myself.” I turn the key over in my palm. Shrugging, I shove it into my pocket, then make my way into the kitchen to wash my hands. I watch unblinking as the bright red swirls down the sink, wondering just how much of Vee I’m losing with this simple task.

When I’m done, I head back into the living room, frowning when I realize Maggie is gone. I look in bedroom but find that that’s empty too. My pulse spikes as I run to my room, checking my closet, my bathroom—anywhere I can think—but Maggie isn’t there.

“Magoo?” I call. “Maggo, where did you go?”

I run around the apartment, my pulse screaming in my ears, but no matter where I look, she’s not there.

“Margaret!” I scream, hoping her full name will bring her back. “Margaret L’Amore, you come out right this instant!” If this is some game she’s playing, it’s not fucking funny.

Tears stream down my face as I run around, pulling up rugs, flipping over couches. I even check the contents of the fridge, but still, no Maggie.

Heaving, I step into her bedroom one more time, breathing in the scent of cherry blossoms that continually assaults me when I’m in here. Although… there’s nothing. Frowning, I move back to the kitchen, deciding to check it one very last time before I really start to freak out.

But as soon as I do, I wish I hadn’t.

My heart drops to my stomach as I take in the sight of Maggie, slumped and pale on the kitchen floor. Just like Vee was…

No. No, not again. Please, no.

I run to her, not noticing the pool of blood until it’s too late.

The rubber soles of my shoes slip out from under me, and I fall to the tile like a stone, a heavy crack ringing out as the back of my head slams into the floor. Stars spark in my vision as I fight to sit up, but every time I place my hand on the tile to push up, I slip back down into the growing puddle of blood.

Giving up, I roll onto my stomach and claw the rest of the way to Maggie, desperate to stop the bleeding so I can save her. My vision tilts as I reach out to her, finding her skin far too cold. Too lifeless.

What the fuck is going on?

Blinking against the fog crowding my vision, I desperately check Maggie’s body, trying to find the source of the bleeding. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find a single wound, nick, scratch, nothing. But the blood flows, and flows, and flows, and I know I’m running out of time.

“Magoo!” I slap at her pale cheeks, not even caring that I’m getting blood all over her face. “Magoo, you have to wake up! You have to tell me where it hurts! I can’t help you unless I know⁠—”

My attention is drawn to the sound of a heavy gasp, and my stomach twists as I catch the eyes of my elderly neighbor standing in the doorway.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I never closed the door.

“I-It’s not what it looks like,” I sputter, clutching Maggie’s limp body to my chest. I have to stop the bleeding. Where blood flows, life goes. I have to dam the river to stop the stream. To stop the life from leaving my sweet Magoo.

“What’s not what it looks like?” she asks, raising a weathered hand to her chest as her frown deepens. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

I blink, looking down at Maggie’s pale face clutched in my arms. “What are you talking about? Is this funny to you?” Something inside my chest breaks as I take in the expression on the woman’s face—like she’s looking at a crazy person. “Fucking call the ambulance! She’s dying!!” My voice is not my own, something deep-rooted and sinister pushing forth, stealing my tongue, my mind. Forcing me to see. To remember.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down…” She takes a step forward, approaching me like you would a snarling animal. “Does someone live with you, sweetie? Is there anyone I can call who can help you through this… episode?”

I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. “Wh—what are you talking about? Please, you need to call someone—my best friend is dying!”

The woman raises a shaking hand, pointing at the frail girl in my arms. “Do you… do you think that’s a person?”

A jolt runs through my body, causing my vision to splinter. I blink, desperately trying to right the world as blinding, brilliant color sparks in front of my eyes. I look down at Maggie, a frown forming between my brows as her face melts away, revealing a navy-blue couch cushion.

What?

I blink again, and it turns back into Maggie. More confused than ever, I look toward my neighbor, only to have my heart fall from my chest at the sympathetic look in her eyes.

“Can’t you see her?” I whisper.

She just shakes her head, but I can’t look at that right now. I gaze back down at Maggie, a tear tracking down my cheek as I brush her bright red curls out of her face. “She always hated when her hair got in her face.” A choked sound accompanies the statement. I look up at the woman, surprised to find tears welling in her warm chocolate eyes. “One time she got so mad at it that she threatened to cut it all off.” I laugh, the sound hollow against my chest wall. “I told her she didn’t have the head shape for it. I should have… should have told her to do whatever made her happiest. I failed her.” I gaze down at the sweeping brush of her orange eyelashes. “I failed you. I’m so… so sorry.”

The woman kneels beside me, taking my palm in hers. “Who are you talking to, sweetie?”

“Maggie,” I whisper, unable to believe it. “My best friend, Margaret L’Amore. She… I don’t understand. She lives with me. We talk, we laugh, we watch TV. I’ve built my whole life around her. I—” The words die in my throat.

Because I’m remembering—and it all seems so clear. It was right in front of me the whole time. The way she never answered the door. The way she slept on top of her blankets. The tattoo of a shrike on my hip—a reminder of Maggie I’d gotten, but never knew why.

Even her agoraphobia—an illness I never remember her telling me about, yet one I always assumed she had because she never left the apartment or interacted with anyone besides me.

When I think back, I don’t even remember when she showed up at the apartment. One day, she was just… there. It all seemed so natural. So right.

I jerk my gaze to the left as the sound of tolling fills my head. Bells. Ringing bells.

Always bells.

“She… she’s not real. She never was.” My eyes widen as the horrible realization takes root at last. I look down at what I thought was my best friend, horror dawning on me when I realize it really was a pillow like she said.

“She’s dead.”

“Who?” the woman asks. “Who’s dead, sweetie?”

“Everyone.” My face pales as the room swirls out from under me. “Everyone… but me.”

39

SERAPHINA

“SHRIKE TO A SWORD”

Warning: this chapter contains scenes depicting suicide that may be distressing to some individuals. For a brief chapter summary, visit mindypaigewrites.com

10 years ago…

The dagger is heavy in my palm as I step to the edge of the circle, the sharp scent of eucalyptus hanging heavy in the morning air. It burns my nostrils as I take deep, heaving breaths, every muscle in my body focused on keeping my breakfast down as I gaze at each of the eleven girls spread out along the perimeter of the clearing. I take in each of their features, committing them to memory as if it’s the last time I will see them—because it is.

Today is the day the bells of death toll. Today is the day of selection.

And only one of us will make it out alive.

I look to my right, my heart squeezing as I take in Maggie’s pale face, wishing more than anything I could offer her some comfort. It’s okay, I want to say. I’ll protect you, no matter what. I’ll use my dying breath to make sure you live.

I try to catch her eye to convey this, but she’s too busy shaking at the sight of the Madam stepping into the center of the clearing. Dressed in the finest red silk, she moves effortlessly in her six-inch heels, drawing both envious and terrified glances from the scrawny girls positioned around the ring. Cool green eyes scour each of our eleven faces, disdain curling her painted lips as her gaze lands on Maggie.

“You,” she snarls. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She flicks her gaze to me, raw malice seeping from every pore. “I warned you, girl. I told you this was not the design. Now… you will face the consequences.”

She raises her arms, a confident smirk gracing her gorgeous face. “This selection will be different than the last. Instead of a free-for-all, the next Madam will be decided by one factor, and one factor only.”

Her cruel eyes find Maggie, a vicious snarl curling her lip. “Whoever kills the maggot first gets to be the Madam.”

She claps her hands once, signaling the beginning of the end. The good part of my heart expects the other girls to stand back in solidarity, ready to face off against the Madam to protect our weakest sister.

But that doesn’t happen.

My eyes widen as all ten of the girls rush toward Maggie, their daggers raised and vicious snarls ripping their faces.

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop! It doesn’t have to be this way!”

No one listens.

I make it to Maggie just as the first girl, Cara, raises her dagger, poised for the kill shot. It slashes through the air, and I have just enough time to knock Maggie to the side, taking the hit along my right shoulder.

Blood and pain gush from the wound, but I don’t have time to tend to it. Adjusting my grip on my dagger, I crouch low, instinct and familiarity telling me Cara will take another swipe at my neck.

Her blade sails through the air, her eyes widening just at the same time as I spring up, shoving the dagger up through the fleshy part of her jaw. Cara lets out a garbled scream past her tongue pinned to the top of her mouth. I use her distraction to rip the blade out, using my momentum to swing back, dragging the blade across her throat.

Her body slumps to the ground as two more girls close in on Maggie. Thinking fast, I throw my dagger at the oldest girl, Keri. In the same motion, I launch through the air, landing square on the back of a red-headed Sarah as my blade hits home—right in the weak spot of Keri’s temple.

While Keri’s body slumps to the ground, I wrestle with Sarah, animalistic yowls pouring from our mouths as we kick, bite, and scratch at each other. She tries more than once to stab me with her dagger, but I anticipate each strike, twisting and contorting my body in such a way that she’s unable to get a single hit in.

“Stop protecting her!” Sarah rakes her nails down the side of my face. “This has to happen! You know it does!”

I wrap my hand around the blade of her dagger, ignoring the searing bite of the blade as I look into Sarah’s muddy-brown eyes.

“I will never stop protecting her.”

I raise my knee, kicking her right in the pussy, and Sarah falls to the side, loosing her grip on her dagger. Just enough. A horrible squelch fills the air as I deposit the blade into Sarah’s sternum, though the regret I expect to feel doesn’t rise.

My vision clouds with red as I rip the blade from her lifeless body. I straighten, my veins thrumming with hatred as I gaze upon the woman who has tortured us all for the past fourteen years. It infects every part of me—turns into its own living, breathing thing.

And it wants blood.

I’m not exactly sure what happens next—only when the red subsides, I’m standing in a circle littered with the bodies of girls I used to consider kin. I gaze down at my arms, noting they’re covered in the same color crowding my vision, the same emotion stoking the wildfire beneath my skin.

Red.

Shaking, I drop my dagger to the muddy soil. My eyes meet Maggie’s, and my chest cracks wide open at the horror written across her face. And I wonder… I wonder what she sees. Me, or the monster beneath my skin.

I don’t have time to ask because the Madam has decided to speak at that moment.

“What are you waiting for, Seraphina? Kill her!”

I shake my head, not taking my eyes off Maggie. My Magoo. “Never,” I whisper. “I will never harm her.”

Maggie’s eyes fill with tears, and she steps toward me.

“Don’t even think about it, worm,” she snarls, her green eyes trained on Maggie. “If you touch her, I will kill you myself.”

“You can’t do that.” I pull my shoulders back as I shoot her a seething glare. “You can’t kill us. It’s not the design.”

Madam reels back, her face twisting as I throw her words back in her face. “That may be true. But one of you will be dead by the time the bells toll midnight. And that is a fact.” She looks at Maggie, then me. “The Sanctum will not tolerate this kind of disobedience. If you cannot follow the rules, then both of you will be dead by tomorrow.” Her eyes narrow on me. “You may think you’re clever, girl, but even you cannot escape fate.”

With that, she turns from us and leaves the circle.

I hobble over to Maggie, throwing a bloodied arm over her shoulders as she gives me a triumphant smile. “We did it,” she whispers. “We did it, Nina.”

“Of course we did.” I tug her close, pushing away the intrusive thoughts that tell me it’s far from over. Madam does not make idle threats, and I know we will both be dead when the clock tolls midnight if I don’t figure something out.

I lead Maggie back to our cabin, my heart heavy and my gut filled with unease. With each step we take closer to the four wooden walls, a plan forms in my mind—one I know will work. I gaze at Maggie from the corner of my eye, the broad smile carved into her face—and I know what must be done.

The only problem is… I’ll have to kill myself.

Fear grips my chest as I imagine slipping into the dark nothingness, but I push forward. After all, this is for Maggie.

And there isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do to protect her.

We step through the cabin door, cedar sap and sawdust clinging to my nose hairs. Both of us are silent as I direct Maggie to her bunk, pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking the covers in all along her sides. She giggles when I get to her sides, and I can’t help the mirroring smile that carves a path across my face.

“Get some sleep, Magoo. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.” I press a kiss to her forehead, my stomach roiling at the lie that falls from my lips.

I straighten, unable to look at Maggie as I turn and head into the small outhouse attached at the back of the cabin. I pull the door closed, locking it tight before I turn to the mirror. Reaching a finger up, I track the gruesome scar carved into my face, wondering if I’ll be able to go through with it. Maggie’s smiling face swarms my mind, and I know no matter what I feel, that I have to do this. I must.

This is my design.

I open the medicine cabinet, pinching the razor between my fingertips. My hand shakes as I gaze down at the gleaming, angry metal, and I worry for one terrible minute that I’ll lose my nerve.

Sighing, I place the razor onto the sink counter, bracing myself against the porcelain as I stare deep into my own eyes.

“You can do this. For Maggie, you can do this.”

Yet no matter how many times I say it, I’m still afraid. Afraid of slipping into the dark, of never being able to get out. Sighing, I turn from the bathroom, deciding a cold drink of water will help to calm my nerves.

“Where are you going?” Maggie’s voice is so, so small in the darkness. I freeze with my hand on the exit, turning my head to meet her inquisitive gaze.

“I’m just going to get a drink of water. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nods, and I slip from the room without another word. I shuffle to the well on the opposite side of the clearing, numb to the sticks and stones puncturing my bare feet. All I feel is terror—one like I’ve never known before.

But I have to do it. I have to, or Maggie will die.

My hand shakes as I bring the wooden bucket to my lips, taking down heaving gulps of fresh water. When my belly is about to burst, I set the bucket down and start walking back to the cabin, my steps far slower than they were on the way to the well.

If I knew what was waiting for me, I might have walked a little faster.

I push open the cabin door, surprised to find Maggie missing from her bed. A frown pinching my brow, I rush to the bathroom at the back, my heart hammering when I notice the light peeking from under the door.

I don’t know what I expect to find when I throw the door open, but whatever it was, the reality is a million times worse. Maggie lies on the ground, her skin pale and lifeless as a pool of blood halos around her, spreading from the deep gashes on her little wrists.

“I found a way out.” A small smile tips her lips as she holds up the razor blade I was going to use. “Now you won’t have to… won’t have to kill yourself for someone as worthless as me.”

“Magoo…”

I wrap my palms around her wrists, desperate to stop the flow of life. I search her gaze, unable to believe she would do something like this—even as more and more blood coats my hands. My chest cracks wide open as I watch all the life, the joy, drain from her veins. “Why would you do this?” My body shudders, and I hang my head, my vision fracturing along with my mind. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

“I know,” she whispers. “You’ve always been too stubborn for your own good. Couldn’t just let me die when it was my time.” She chuckles weakly, her seafoam eyes fixing on a spot just over my shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”

“You didn’t have to. You never have to.”

Maggie shakes her head, her eyes closing softly. For a moment, I’m scared she’s gone. But then she speaks, her voice a weathered rasp. “N-Nina?”

“Yes?” My palm trails lightly across her freckled cheek. “What is it?”

“Will—will you do me a favor?”

Her cobalt eyes are glassy, and I can do nothing but clutch her to my chest, nodding violently as the warmth of her life seeps into my shirt.

“Anything.” I brush an unruly red curl from her cheek. “Anything.”

She heaves a sigh, a great whoosh of air filled with relief. Relief and sadness. “Will you… will you go see the sunrise over Mount Kilimanjaro?” Maggie smiles up at the ceiling like she imagines herself perched on those snow-capped peaks. And it’s a good smile. A pure smile. A smile absent of fear. Of hatred. Of pain.

She jerks her gaze to mine, and there’s so much love held in her tiny pale face that I’m worried my heart will fall right out of my chest. “I can’t… I don’t think I’m going to get the chance now, and⁠—”

“Don’t say that!” My voice breaks along with my heart. “We’ll get you to the top of that mountain, Magoo. I’m going to get you there.”

Maggie’s smile turns sad, and she lets her head drop back into the crook of my arm, her eyelids drooping slowly. “That’s a wonderful thought, Nina.” She reaches up, holding her hand over my heart, her pupils narrowing to pinpoints. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I clutch her painfully close. “I don’t hear anything.”

“The bells…” Her eyes glaze over as she seizes lightly. “Ding… dong… ding… dong… What do you think it means?”

I shake my head, silent sobs scraping against the inside of my chest wall. “I don’t know, Magoo. I don’t know.”

But I do know. I know all too well.

“Huh.” Her seizing ceases, and her eyes begin to droop. “They’re so… they’re so beautiful.”

Her chest rises one last time and then never again. I look down at her lifeless form, unable to believe what’s happening. It takes me a long while to realize the halls are filled with screaming. Even longer to notice that they’re mine.

They took her. They took her. They took her.

“Someone restrain her! Now!”

40

SERAPHINA

“CACOPHONY”

I blink, my gaze coming into focus and landing square on the smile spread across Maggie's face. I’m back in my apartment, my vision hyper focused on the grinning girl in front of me.

“Do you see now?”

“See what?” I whisper, the blood draining from my face as I look upon my best friend.

“Silly Nina. Do you really not understand?” Her lips push out in a deep pout, her cobalt eyes glimmering with mirth as she plops down next to me on our mustard couch.

“I—you—” I shake my head, blinking rapidly as if to clear the sight of Maggie from my vision. “How can you be dead? I live with you. I talk to you, I⁠—”

“But has anyone else seen me? Spoken to me?” She takes my hand in her palm. And it's so warm, so real, I’m sure someone is playing a horrible, horrible prank on me. “Come on, Nina. Think.”

“I don’t want to!” I stand from the couch, pointing an accusatory finger her way. “You… you’re playing a trick. You’re alive. You have to be. What the fuck was the point of all this—all this suffering if you’re not?”

“Nina, relax⁠—”

“I can’t!” I press my palms to my eyes as my headache rages. When I pull my hands away, the room is swimming, tilting, dripping. Maggie’s eyes grow to the size of her head until she’s just one giant, singular eyeball, and I let loose another scream as I stumble backward, slamming into the coffee table and sending the lamp crashing to the floor. “Magoo… what’s happening to me?”

“You’re remembering.” She takes a tentative step toward me. “It’s okay, Nina. Let it happen.”

“No!” I shake my head violently as images swarm my mind—things I’ve buried so deep over the years, I didn’t know they could ever resurface.

I take a misplaced step back, and suddenly, I’m falling, careening toward the ground. There’s a loud smack as my head hits the floorboards, and everything goes black.

“Don’t fight, girl. Everything will be fine.”

I struggle wildly against the restraints on my ankles and wrists, a warm river of blood pouring down my arms. Two sets of hands hold down my left arm, smacking the inside of my elbow several times before inserting a needle deep into the vein. An animalistic snarl leaves my mouth as a man in a golden bird mask steps up to my head, beady black eyes staring down at me as I continue to fight.

“It will be easier if you don’t fight. This is the design.”

“Fuck you!” I hiss, closing my eyes as the walls begin to drip. “I’m going to kill you. I’ll kill you all!”

“Save that anger for someone who gives a damn, girl.” The man reaches over to the table and grabs a large sheet filled with squares of happy yellow smiley faces. He folds the rectangle and folds it in half, repeating the motion until the massive sheet is folded into a bite-sized square. “Open up.”

The back of my head slams on the table with force as I try to avoid it, but eventually, the man pushes the paper past my lips and teeth. Immediately, the substance dissolves on my tongue, and though I want to spit it out, the bird-masked man holds his palm over my mouth and nose, making that an impossibility.

I stare at him with murder in my gaze, every muscle in my body quaking with the need to wrap my hands around his fat neck and squeeze, squeeze, s q

u

e

e

z

e.

I shake my head, staring hard at the walls that seem like they’re… dripping?

The man in the bird mask starts laughing. Although, the longer I listen, the more I realize it’s not laughter at all.

It’s screaming.

And it’s coming from me.

I try to close my eyes against the barrage of color that swarms my vision, blaring, pushing, scraping against my skull, begging to be let in. It bounces off every dead and living thing, taking root in the masked man and imbuing him with a disgusting, puke-green aura.

My eyes are dry. So dry. So very, very dry. Yet I can’t take them off that light. Light that I could reach out and touch. Taste.

I stick my tongue out to test my theory, and the cackling grows louder. And this time, it is laughter that fills the space, and it makes me sick.

S o

s

I

c

k

.

I pitch to the side as my stomach flips, emptying the meager contents onto the floor as the drugs hammer my nervous system. Am I dying? Is this what dying feels like?

I try to stand, only to fall sideways onto the floor as the room flips sideways. My movements are sluggish and dreamlike, and when I pull my hand up to my face, I’m surprised to find it glowing. I twist it in the air, marveling how the moonlight dances off my skin in a gorgeous iridescence of color.

I am made of light. It’s seeping from me, pouring out of my skin.

I have no doubt it’s due to the drugs, but I’m so enamored with the sight, I don’t even notice the bird-masked man hauling me from the ground by my armpits. Nor do I notice him placing me in the small black chamber filled with water. I don’t even notice when he slams the lid closed, bathing me in pitch black.

It takes me a while to notice I’m weightlessly floating in the water. When I do, every nerve in my body twinges, begging me to get out of this contraption. To be free of my mind.

I press my hand to the ceiling, and cool metal greets my palm, sending me into a downward spiral as the material refuses to budge.

Oh God. I’m trapped. Trapped in here. Trapped in my mind.

My breathing picks up pace until I’m about to pass out, which only spreads gasoline onto the wildfire that is my anxiety when I realize if I do, I’ll drown in this cursed chamber.

“No.” I bang my fist bloody against the ceiling as I refuse to believe what I know to be true. “No. No. No!”

The walls start to close in the more my breath picks up, the metal sliding, crunching, crushing my body closer together with every blink. It presses into my skin, into my bones—squeezing, squishing, twisting my organs into raisins.

My ribs pierce my insides, bleeding me from the inside out as my skull is crushed to a pulp, my brains spread out with the rest of me—a treat for the vultures circling above.

Only, when I blink, it’s not a vulture circling—it’s a crow. And it opens that terrible toothed beak and inches closer, whispering darkness into the air.

“Worms,” it whispers. “Tasty, juicy worms. Ripe for the picking.”

“No, please!” I try and fail to raise an arm to shield the most delicate part of myself. “Please don’t.”

“Please, please, please,” it croaks in a voice that doesn't belong to it. “Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do⁠—”

“Seraphina!”

I blink up at Maggie, trying and failing to raise a hand to place on her soft cheek. Somewhere in the distance, a voice is calling to me—urging me to wake from something I don’t understand.

The air around me shudders, going in and out of focus as I stare into the baby blues of my best friend's eyes. Eyes I don’t want to lose. Eyes I don’t want to forget now that she’s⁠—

She’s dead.

“Hold on, ma’am! Just hold on. I’m going to get you help!”

I groan, trying to open my eyes and finding they’re crusted together. My throat is dry—so, so dry. But my lips are sewn together, and I can’t se e m t o

O p en

M

Y

M

Ou

t

H

T

o S

p

e

A

k

Blinding light flares under my closed lids, forcing me to open my eyes. A man bathed in a beautiful dark aura kneels over me, his beautiful face twisted in a way it shouldn’t be.

Not natural. Not the design.

I reach out as the world spins around me, blinding me with color and taste and smell and touch and⁠—

“Someone restrain her!”

The ground beneath my feet fractures as I fall to my knees, a great scream leaving my chest, shredding my throat on its way to the heavens above. I can’t open my eyes, yet I can’t look away. Can't look away from Maggie—my dear, sweet Magoo.

What have they done to you? I wail, my hands reaching toward her broken, lifeless body. Bruises pepper her porcelain skin like constellations, her arms and legs twisted in unnatural angles, the bones protruding from several places along her extremities. Her skull has been smashed like a melon—her beautiful brains spread out along the clearing for the crows to feast upon. And feast upon her they do.

“Worms,” they whisper. “Tasty, juicy worms. Ripe for the picking.”

“Please!” My eyes are wild as I clutch at the pant legs of the Reaper standing to my left. “Please don’t! I’ll do anything! I’ll do—I’ll do anything you want—just make it stop!

“Please, please, please,” Madam cackles, the sound far too much like the crows crowding Maggie's dead body. “Please. I’ll do anything! What the fuck would you do, girl? She’s gone. Dead, like I told you she’d be. You shouldn’t have messed with the design, Seraphina. This is what happens when you do.”

“Why?” I rake my fingernails down my face as the crows pick at my best friend. “Why?”

Madam sneers, gripping me by the back of my hair and dragging me across the ground, kicking and screaming. She dumps me next to Maggie’s body, and the crows scatter as my heartbroken sobs fill the clearing.

“Get yourself together!” she barks, kicking me in the ribs in a fit of rage. “You are the next Madam! This behavior is unacceptable!”

She yanks me by my hair and shoves my face within inches of Maggie's bashed face, and another sob of agony tears from my mouth as I gaze upon those dull, cobalt eyes that once held so much warmth. So much life.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please, please, please. I’ll do—I’ll do anything,” I bargain with the gods above. Hoping this time they will listen. Will give a damn.

But they don’t.

They never do.

I blink up at a pair of chocolate-brown eyes, deeply set in a face I barely recognize. My neighbor’s mouth is moving, but I can’t understand a word of it. At least, no more than the phrase “ambulance is on the way.”

No. No, they can’t find me. I have to get out of here.

Struggling to a stand, I close my eyes against the dripping walls and stumble in the general direction of the front door. The woman calls out something behind me, but I’m too far underwater to understand. Too tired to give a damn.

I make it halfway down the steps when my legs collapse. I tumble down the rest of the stairs, numb to the pain as my vision shudders and fractures like a kaleidoscope.

The back of my head smacks against the concrete. My limbs are heavy—so, so heavy—and though I try to raise them, I don’t have the strength. Not now. Not anymore.

I blink up at the gray sky, wishing for something—anything—to take away the storm brewing in my mind. But it’s too little, too late.

And I fall back into the dark.

“Congratulations, Seraphina.”

There are ants in my head, and they won't get out—ants in my head and under my skin. The moon is too bright and too hot and too salty on my tongue. The beauty of it burns my retinas, and I want so badly to blink, but I’m frozen in time. Frozen to this singular moment stretched between somewhere and nowhere.

“You are the last one surviving.”

My body twitches, something deep in my subconscious remembering—but then the memory fractures, falls away like shards of glass—and I forget.

The drugs did something terrible to me. Something irreversible.

Something unforgivable.

I raise my head, finding Calathea, the Madam, dressed in her full regalia, her gold Venetian mask obscuring the hateful features beneath. I blink, and a deep purple haze blossoms around her, filling the room with her noxious stink. Her aura flutters between mud brown and purple as she gazes at my crouched form, and by the way she jerks back, I know she realizes what she’s done to me. Finally, she understands the monster she created.

“Rise, Seraphina,” she commands, taking a tentative step back as I do just that. “Rise and take your place at my side as the next Madam of the Sanctum.”

I glance over her shoulder, the ringing in my ears subsiding just enough to let in the high-pitched yowling filling the space. A small gray cage sat atop Calathea’s red oak desk, perfectly unassuming save for the fuzzy white paw stretching through the slots in the bars.

“Ah. You wish to see your children.”

I clutch the scar on my abdomen, a shot of pain running straight through my marrow as I’m reminded of what the Sanctum took from me, what they stole from me.

“I cannot have children.” My voice is low and robotic. “As the Sanctum ordained.”

“Perhaps not biological children, but now that you are chosen to be the next Madam, you are allowed certain… privileges you were not before.” She motions to her side, where her twin tigers, Nix and Niege, sit dutifully. “I remember when I was given my tigers… I’m quite certain I felt just as you do now. Angry. Confused. Unwilling to accept the path that lay before me.”

She looks up, and for once, the look in her eyes is pure anguish. “It was all taken from me, too, you know.”

Calathea shakes her head violently, and when she looks at me again, that piece of humanity is gone, replaced with her usual cool malice. “No matter. You will accept your place. You will raise these tigers as your children, as your ultimate protectors. When the time comes, you will replace me and train other young girls to replace yourself one day. You will take this all in stride without complaint or refusal. And when your time comes, you will die.” Calathea takes a step forward, gripping my chin in her ice-cold fingers. “Is that clear, Seraphina?”

I don’t respond. I can’t—I’m frozen. Rooted to the spot by my anger. My hatred.

“Seraphina?” she asks, her grip tightening painfully along my jaw. “I asked you a question.”

Suddenly, she rears back, her eyes widening in alarm at whatever she sees in mine. “Seraphina?”

41

SERAPHINA

“THERE IS NO MERCY”

The bells. The bells of death are tolling.

Sobs echo throughout the gold-hewn hallway, rattling my skull with a violence that compels me to stop. The wall in front of me pitches to the side as gold drips down in thick, messy puddles, coating my bare feet in molten lava as the sounds of grief imbue the hollow halls of my mind. They scratch something deep in my nervous system, something long since forgotten—and they order me to investigate. To see. To remember.

And so, I do.

A man is bleeding on the ground—a Mask. And not just any Mask, but a Phantom. I shouldn’t save him, but Maggie is there, urging me on. She reminds me of all the times she helped me. Every smile she threw my way, each tender embrace, all her unconditional love, respect, and support. She reminds me what it is to be gracious and to plant kindness in the dark places where it no longer blooms.

And so, when she tells me to save him… I do.

I grab my last syringe of Vespyr and shove it deep into his wound. I spare his life, like I wished they had spared Maggie’s, and after, my soul feels lighter. Like somewhere, somehow, Maggie is smiling down on me. For choosing to be a little bit kinder. A little bit better. A little bit more like her.

When I’m done, I stumble toward Madam’s quarters, the walls dripping and swaying around me, causing my stomach to flip. I know now what this is—that the strange auras, the hallucinations, the way my mind fractures—all of it is due to the powerful hallucinogens Dr. Kebler has been pumping me full of. I don’t know how long the effects will last, but somehow, I have to focus. I have to end this.

I push open the secret door into Madam’s chambers. My vision is swimming, bursts of color exploding everywhere I look. I step to the center of the room, trying to make out the fuzzy shapes spread around the floor, thick swaths of red spreading from them like halos. I don’t understand—not until I crouch next to one—not until I swirl my fingers around the warm red liquid do I realize the forms spread around the room are dead bodies.

And not just any dead bodies—corpses of the Table Members. Their bird masks are still strapped to their faces, but the brilliant gold hue is dimmed greatly by the blood and filth spattered across the impressive beaks.

Who… who could have done something like this?

My mind is brought back to the four strangers in the hall. If the dying man was indeed a Phantom, then there’s no doubt he was the perpetrator of this mass killing.

I gaze around the circular room, my eyes landing on each of the fallen Table Members. Instead of sadness or even regret, the only thing pulsing through my body is raw, blazing hatred. It should have been me. This should be the evidence of my vengeance spread across Madam’s floor.

It should have been mine.

A shuddering gasp fills the air, and my eyes drag to a golden heap on the opposite side of the room. A thick trail of blood spreads from where she’s dragged herself away from the carnage, but there’s no doubt about it—the Madam is still alive. There’s an empty syringe of Vespyr lying on the ground, and I know she will live through this. That is, if I don’t do anything to stop her.

I look to my right and find Maggie’s kind eyes shining on me. Her aura bursts from her shoulders in a magnificent shade of pink, a large golden circle surrounding her head—like a halo.

Magoo… My eyes fill with tears as I take in her shining white smile.

“It’s okay,” she says, standing tall. “You can do this, Nina. It was only ever you who could.”

Holding back my sobs, I reach into my pocket, my fingers curling around the hilt of my dagger. My mind runs through every memory I had with Maggie—every kind smile, tear, and embrace. I remember how she would scrunch her nose whenever I said something stupid, and how she never judged me for any of my misgivings. She was a good friend—the best friend—and I only wish we had more time together.

“I love you, Maggo.” I hold onto the dagger like a lifeline. “I’m so—I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

She just smiles, tilting her head. “Oh, silly Nina. Do you still not realize?” I watch unblinking as Maggie fades from the air, fading into nothingness once more. Before she dissolves completely, her lilting voice fills the air, twisting up my insides and making me want to break down all over again.

“You did.”

I blink at the spot Maggie used to occupy, all the sorrow and despair fading, making way for a new emotion.

Hatred.

Because I remember now—I remember what the Sanctum did to me. I remember what they took from me.

And for that, they will pay.

I raise my dagger high, racing toward the Madam with a bellow of rage. She looks up at me from the floor, a line of blood dripping from her gasping mouth as she realizes what I mean to do. She raises a shaking hand, uselessly trying to cover her face as I straddle her with my feet.

“Seraphina, please!” she screams, shutting her eyes tight. “Please, have mercy!”

“Mercy?” A hollow laugh fills the air. “Did you show Maggie mercy?” I crouch low, pressing the tip of the dagger to the center of her forehead as she lets out a terrified wail. “Did you show her mercy when you fed her to the crows? When you made me watch?” I push the blade further into her flesh, a cruel smile carving across my face as a pearl of red mars her perfect pale skin. “There is no mercy for monsters like you.” I drag the blade down the middle of her forehead, splitting the skin open as I go. A pained wail falls from her bloodied lips, but there’s not even a pinch of sympathy in my heart.

All I know—all I am—is hate.

I position the dagger vertically above her eye, stopping so the tip is a centimeter from her pupil. “You remember this game, don’t you? It was your favorite.”

Whimpering, the Madam nods her head imperceptibly.

“Good.” I adjust my grip, staring deep into her cruel green eyes. “First question… what was Maggie’s favorite color?”

Her mouth pops, and she sputters. “Wha—how would you expect me to know something like that? It’s not fair⁠—”

I shove the blade through her eye.

“Fuck!” she screams, her body convulsing against the newfound pain. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Wrong answer. It was pink.” I press down on her chest while I hold the dagger in her eye. “Let’s hope you get the next one right.”

“Seraphina, please!” she wails, tears streaming from the corner of her good eye. “Seraphina, I’m sorry! Please, please, let me go! We can fix this!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” An image of Maggie flashes in my mind. “Next question—and probably the last—so think hard. I’ll give you an easy one—something you couldn’t possibly get wrong. Not with all the years you spent with her.” I take a deep breath, steadying my hand as I prepare to ask the question.

“What was Maggie’s full name?”

Madam jerks, her breath coming hard and fast as she tries to recall Maggie’s name. With each second that passes, each moment she fails to remember, I grow angrier. More bloodthirsty.

“Come, now. Surely you remember the name of the girl you raised? The one you desecrated and fed to fucking crows. Surely, you remember.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry… I don’t—I don’t remember. She was just a girl. Just fodder for the real candidates. It was nothing personal.”

I shake my head, disgust filling my veins, burning me up from the inside. I tighten my grip until I think I’ll snap the handle of the dagger, never taking my eyes from her one good one.

“That’s funny. Because this definitely is.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, I shove the dagger deep. She convulses, shuddering as the blade pierces her brain tissue, and then she goes still. I sit back on my heels, heaving as I stare down at the lifeless body of the Madam. She’s gone. She’s really, truly gone.

The truth doesn’t make my chest any less hollow.

My vision fractures as I stand, the room tilting and swaying around me, and I have to steady a hand against the wall to keep myself upright. Red crowds my eyes as I stumble to the back of Madam’s chambers, entering the secret door set into the wall that leads to her personal alchemy room.

Three large barrels line the back wall of her alchemy room, bright red Flammable warnings stamped on the side. I stumble toward them, a plan forming in the depths of my mind. I grab a box of matches from the table and stuff them deep in my pocket, then using all my strength, I push the first barrel over. The pungent vapor of the benzene assaults me as it evaporates into the air, and I have to pull my shirt over my nose to stave off the worst of the smell.

I roll the barrel into the main room, leaving a thick trail of flammable liquid behind me. When it’s lighter, I'm able to lift it enough to coat the carpets and pour it over the dead bodies—saving Madam for last.

Gazing at my handiwork, I step backward out of the room, drawing the box of matches from my pocket. I light the match, watching the golden flame flutter and grow, sparks of energy reaching—clinging to the molecules of benzene that hang heavy in the air.

I blink, and it’s Maggie’s face I see in the fire. She’s smiling—and it’s a good smile. A pure smile. One free of fear. Free of the hatred. Free of the rage that’s seeping into the marrow of my bones, infecting every part of me and twisting my insides into one angry mass of red.

I take one last look at my best friend, carving her expression into my memory so I will already remember what they took from me. What they destroyed.

I flick the match across the room, and I burn it.

I burn it all.

I wake for the last time, tears streaming down my cheeks and the cold night air whipping against my skin. I look around the dark streets of Moriton, a chill creeping down my spine as I try to remember how in the fuck I got outside.

My memories play in my mind like a horror movie, jumping from scene to scene so violently and rapidly, I can’t make sense of them. But I do know one thing for sure.

I’m in a new kind of hell. One I can’t escape from.

42

ORION

“NOTHING BUT TIME”

Three hours, thirty seven minutes, forty three seconds ago.

Seraphina told me she hated me. I’m going to get her back.

Two hours, fifty five minutes, twenty four seconds ago.

I stumbled through my cabin door, my head pounding from the painful silence. Despair grips my chest.

One hour, thirty two minutes, four seconds ago.

I’ve been staring at a wall. My chest hurts. Everything hurts, and I’m angry.

Twenty two minutes, twenty seconds ago.

She’s not coming back. I know that now.

Five minutes, thirty five seconds ago.

I realize I’m a monster. She’s better off without me, but I don’t want to live without her.

Two minutes, twelve seconds ago.

I look around the room. I look inside myself. I realize I can’t.

One second ago.

The front door creaks open. My heart explodes.

Seraphina.

She came home.

43

ORION

“THE DOVE FLIES HOME”

I’m still sitting on the floor of the living room when she appears.

Like a ghost or a hallucination, Seraphina Valez stands in the open doorway, her chest heaving and cheeks wet with tears. Her eyes—her beautiful, golden pools—are rimmed with red and swollen, shoving wave after wave of moisture past her lids and down her face.

My heart stops in my chest, and I blink, waiting for her to disappear again.

But that doesn’t happen.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she whispers, her body shuddering with the strength she holds in her cries. “I didn’t… I don’t⁠—”

Before she gets the rest of it out, I’m up and across the room, pulling her so violently into my arms, I’m sure I’ll break her. I run my palms over her back, her arms, her face—touching every inch of her, trying to convince myself she’s really, truly here.

“Seraphina.” I press my lips to the top of her head. Her shoulders shake with heaving sobs, and I just hold her closer, humming soothing notes and caressing her until the worst of the pain leaves her.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on—not yet. Not ever, if you don’t want to. But if you ever do, I promise I will be here, and I will hold you like this. And we’ll get through it—together.” I pull back and run my thumb beneath her eye. A salty drop snags on the pad of my thumb, and I bring it to my mouth, sucking it clean and reveling in the taste of her.

She looks up at me, a world of pain brewing in her beautiful golden gaze. “I don’t know how I’ll… if I’ll ever be able to.”

I press my forehead to hers, gazing deep into her eyes so she can tell the seriousness of my words. “If you never do, then I will be here. If you always feel this way, then I’ll be your strength. I’ll fight the battles. I’ll be your loyal soldier. And if you need someone to hold some of that weight you’ve been living with, I can hold some of that, too.” I brush my lips against hers, my heart soaring at the satisfied hum that falls from her mouth. “You don’t need me to do any of these things for you, Seraphina. But if you’ll let me, it would make me the happiest man. To be allowed to care for you would be the greatest gift I could receive.”

She doesn’t speak, but the emotion in her eyes causes my heart to seize. And I know—I know she’s finally letting me in.

“Okay.” She nibbles her bottom lip, looking up at me beneath pale lashes. “I don’t—I never hated you, Orion. I’m sorry I said that, but I⁠—”

“Shh.” I grip her chin, guiding her lips up to mine. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just let me hold you, okay?”

She nods, and I scoop her into my arms, squeezing her tight enough to break her bones, but I don’t care. I finally have my dove back—finally have my reason for living again. I climb into bed, pulling the cover up over our heads as she nestles into my side. She feels so small and fragile in my arms, but I know that fire is still blazing in her chest—still pumping fight into her veins.

Today, we will rest. Today, I will hold her and let her know she’s safe. But tomorrow…

Tomorrow, we will get her revenge.

I stay awake through the night, counting Seraphina’s breaths, tracing the silver scar that runs the length of her face, trying to confirm she’s real. When she wakes and her golden eyes capture mine—when that comfortable warmth spreads through my veins, filling me with a sense of wonder—that is the moment I know she really did come back.

“Hello.” She blinks up at me with her big, beautiful eyes. I look over her face, searching for the sadness pouring from her yesterday, but she seems to have locked it away. For now, at least.

“Hello.” I lean over, brushing her hair behind her ear as I press a gentle kiss to her nose. “You look very beautiful when you’re asleep, Seraphina.”

A tinge of red flushes her cheeks, and she looks away. “You watched me sleep?”

“Every night since I first saw you.”

She meets my eyes at last, and the look she finds there increases the intensity of her blush. “I guess I could have guessed that…”

I brush my lips against hers, a deep groan rumbling from my chest at the taste of her. Using every ounce of control I possess, I roll out of bed, keeping my eyes trained away from her even though I feel her stare boring into my back. If I look at her fuck-me eyes, I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll take her—hard, like I’ve wanted to for so long—and I know that’s the last thing she needs right now.

I pull some fresh clothes from the dresser, pulling mine on first before stepping to the bed and placing Seraphina’s at the edge of the mattress. Without a word, she climbs out of bed, slowly—teasingly—inching out of her clothes before pulling on the leggings and tank top. I’m salivating by the time she’s finished, and as much as I want to take her right back out of the clothes, I know we don’t have time for that.

“Come on, little dove.” I hold out a hand and lead her from the cabin. Her brows pinch in confusion, but she doesn’t say a word—not even when I lift her into the passenger side of my truck. She doesn’t say anything for the entire drive, choosing to stare silent and forlornly out of the window, watching the trees whip by.

But when we stop in the clearing in front of Ghost’s lair, she does.

“Where are we?” Her eyes go wide as she scans the area for threats. She eyes the edge of the cliff warily, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. “If you’re planning to throw me off another cliff, I’m really not in the mood…”

I tut, stepping around to Seraphina’s door and pulling her from the truck into my arms. “I may be cruel, but I’m not that cruel, dove.”

“That’s to be debated.” She throws her arms around my neck as I walk her toward the edge of the cliff. A few feet from the edge, I set Seraphina down, then crouch, pressing my wrist to the hidden stone hatch. A section of the ground lifts away, and Seraphina gasps as the entrance to the lair becomes visible.

Her eyes are trained on the passageway, at the cracked stone steps that disappear a few feet down, eaten away by the shadows. “Orion… what is this? What’s down there?”

I grab her hand, tugging her down the first step. “Do you trust me, dove?”

She takes a moment to answer, but when she does, her face is pinched in resolution. “I do.”

“Then follow me. You’ll have all your questions answered in a minute.”

We step into the shadows, Seraphina’s breath coming out in short pants as I lead her down, down, down into the earth. When we make it to the bottom, she lets out a sigh of relief at the bright yellow light streaming in from the main room.

“You ready?” I ask.

She nods, gripping my hand tighter as we move into the light. Seraphina blinks out at the space, her mouth falling open as she takes in the mellow hue of the limestone walls, at the dozens of huge stone archways leading off into other passageways like a giant ant’s nest.

She steps toward the grand piano sitting at the center of the room, her golden eyes wide with awe. “What is this place?” she whispers.

“This would be my home.” A booming voice echoes from the shadows, causing Seraphina to jump. She looks around wildly, trying to find the source of his voice.

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I gesture to the darkened passageway to our right. “Seraphina, you should remember Ghost. You might have to speak up when you talk to him because he’s⁠—”

“Old.” Ghost interrupts, stepping forward out of the shadows.

“Well, it’s no fun when you say it,” I grumble. Ghost shoots me an exasperated look before turning his attention back to Seraphina.

“I’m sorry for your loss,”

She sputters, open-mouthed. “How-how do you…?”

Ghost doesn’t explain, only nods toward the couch. “Please, follow me, Seraphina.”

Seraphina and I share a glance, both just as confused. How the hell could he have known about Vee?

I’m halfway to the couch when I stop short, my mouth popping in horror. “Oh my God, are you a fucking psychic?”

Ghost jerks back like I struck him, a flabbergasted expression crossing his serious features. “Were you hit on the head? Take a damn seat.” He gestures to the loveseat Seraphina is lowering herself onto.

A smirk crosses my face as I shoot over, grabbing Seraphina’s hips and hauling her onto my lap before her ass can hit the cushion. Ghost rolls his eyes to the ceiling as I wrap my arms around Seraphina’s stomach, nuzzling my face between her shoulder blades.

“Could you please be serious for one moment?”

“What?” I grin into Seraphina’s skin, shifting my hips so her ass is pressing directly against me. “You told me to take a seat.”

Ghost sighs and drops the issue. His face goes taut, all signs of relaxation running from his face as he looks into Seraphina’s eyes. “Earlier… you wanted to know how I knew of your friend’s passing?”

I shift to the side, gazing at Seraphina’s profile as she nods. “Yes.”

Ghost clears his throat. “I guess the easiest explanation is that I am a man who knows things. You see, I had been raised as a⁠—”

“Phantom,” Seraphina finishes, her muscles tensing. “I… I remember now. You were the Phantom I saved that night at the Sanctum. The night I…”

The night she burned it all down.

Ghost nods. “I thought you might remember me eventually. Which means you also might remember the things the Sanctum did to you.”

Seraphina lets out a shudder. “I remember too well.”

“And you also remember the Madam who raised you?”

She nods.

Ghost sighs, looking anywhere but Seraphina. “Calathea—your madam—was an unusually cruel woman. She was the one who oversaw my training, so I am no stranger to the type of evil she possessed. But there was another—the one before her…”

At this, Ghost looks her directly in her eyes, a faint memory swirling in the violet depths. “Her name was Elvira. But you might have known her as Vee.”

44

SERAPHINA

“TIGER CUDDLES”

My heart seizes in my chest as I stare at the man with the strange-colored eyes, focusing on the vibrant purple hue bursting from his shoulders so I don’t have to think about what he just told me.

Vee—my Vee—was a Madam. She was just like Calathea.

A shudder runs through me, and suddenly, there’s not enough air in the room. Orion rubs his palm down my spine, gentle tingles sparking from his touch and grounding me as the information whirls through my mind.

“But… but that makes no sense,” I sputter. “When a new Madam is appointed, the old one is killed. Vee couldn’t be… there’s no way…”

“I’m afraid it’s true.” Ghost gives me a sympathetic look, but it’s the last thing I need. “I don’t know how, but somehow, she was able to escape. To live. I think that when she found you ten years ago… I think she knew what you were. I think she protected you, and it’s the only reason you’ve gone undetected for this long.”

I shake my head, looking anywhere but at his face—at his eyes, bursting with the truth of his words. I blink, my throat hot with unshed tears, and suddenly, a familiar face appears in my periphery. I nearly fall out of Orion’s lap as Maggie’s smile peeks through the shadows. I blink and blink at that spot, but she never disappears—just keeps grinning at me with that knowing twinkle in her eyes.

“He’s telling the truth.” Her voice is muffled like she’s talking to me from another room. I look deep into her cobalt eyes, fighting back tears as she begins to fade away. Just before she disappears completely, she opens her mouth, giving me one last piece of advice.

“Trust the Phantom…”

I look back toward Ghost, a myriad of questions swirling in my mind. But before I get the chance to ask any of them, the sound of footsteps draws my attention over my shoulder.

One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen stands on the threshold of the doorway, her bright green eyes twinkling with kindness behind layers of thick black hair. At her side stands a little girl no more than eight years of age, her features a carbon copy of her mother’s—save for the bright violet sheen of her eyes. That, I have no doubt, she got from her father.

“Hello.” The woman speaks first, tugging the little girl along as I stand from Orion’s lap. “My name’s Brett. I’ve heard so much about you…” She stops a few feet from me, gauging my expression to see if it’s safe to come any closer. “Ghost told me about your Vee… I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you...” I fight the urge to fall into her arms and sob. She looks like she could give a mean hug.

To my surprise, the little girl steps right up to me, shooting out her hand. “My name’s Sloane. I’m eight.”

“Hi, Sloane.” I take her little hand in mine and give it a shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her serious expression falls away to a bright smile, showcasing the gap from her missing front tooth. “You’re really pretty! I like your scar!” She points at the long silver line that runs the length of my face. “Are you a warrior? Daddy gave me a book about Valkyries, and you look just like one of the pictures!” She presses up on her toes, excitement brimming from her tiny body as a pale purple aura bursts from her outline.

“I… uh…” I sputter, not quite knowing how to respond to the little girl without crushing that excited sheen in her eyes. “I am?”

“I knew it!” She lets out an excited squeal. “Can you teach me how to fight? Daddy says I’m too young to practice with a real weapon, but I think⁠—”

“I will not risk you accidentally hurting yourself, little one.” Ghost interrupts, stepping forward and hauling her into his arms. She lets out a happy squeal as he tosses her into the air, only to pull her back into his chest as she falls back down. “When you’re old enough, I will teach you. Until then, you’ll have to deal with the wooden blade.” He presses a kiss to the top of her hair as he meets Brett’s eyes, and the look they share causes my heart to squeeze with emotion.

Sloane wriggles from Ghost’s arms, and he reluctantly places her back onto the ground. With a cheeky grin, she turns to Orion, addressing him for the first time since she arrived. “I have something to show you.”

Orion raises a brow. “Hello to you, too.”

Sloane just rolls her eyes. “No time for formalities, onion. Come on.” She springs forward, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the passageway at the back of the room.

Curious, I follow them, my interest deepening as we pass through a long, dark hallway that seems to slope downward into the cliffside. We come to a small square foyer with a door at the far end, complete with a large metal bar across the width.

Sloane steps forward, dropping Orion’s hand and sliding the barricade out of its slot. “Remember when you said there were no tigers in the woods?” Sloane looks over her shoulder, giving Orion a haughty smirk. She places the barricade on the ground and throws open the door, stepping back to reveal two massive white tigers.

“A simple ‘you were right’ will suffice.” She throws her hair over her shoulder, placing her hands on her hips as Orion and I stare on, dumbfounded. Before I know what I’m doing, my legs take me into the darkened room.

“No!” Sloane jumps forward, gripping the back of my shirt. “No! They could hurt you!”

I press on, my heart cracking wide open at the sight of the metal collars strapped around my babies’ throats. I fall to my knees in front of Sviato, my fingers working uselessly at the lock as tears stream down my face. Savyne crawls forward, baring gleaming white teeth as she pounces at me. Sloane cries out in horror, only for the sound to die as Savyne sticks her tongue out and slides it up my face.

A laugh pours from my mouth as I throw my arms around the twin white tigers, heaving sobs of relief shaking my body as I cling to them.

“Sviato… Savyne… I was so worried about you.” I press a kiss to each of their noses. “I don’t know why—look at the size of you two…” I look over their bodies, checking for any signs of injury, but find they look nearly the same as the last time I saw them.

“Daddy has been coming down here every day to feed them.” Sloane takes a tentative step toward the tigers. “He said… he said they belonged to someone. But I never thought—” Her eyes go wide as she gazes down at me. “You really are a warrior princess…”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “I never thought about it that way.”

Sloane takes another step forward. “Can I… will they let me pet them?”

I shrug, shuffling aside so she can step forward. “They can sense energies really well. If you’re in any danger, I’ll tell you to step back.”

Sloane nods resolutely, her face pinching in concentration as she slowly outstretches her arm. As soon as she places her fingertips on Sviato’s snout, a chuffing sound fills the air. He presses his nose into her hand, lowering his lids in content as she gives him a few gentle scratches.

“No freaking way…” Her eyes go wide as Savyne crawls toward her, nudging her side and nearly knocking the girl clean over. “Hey!” She giggles, reaching her free hand out to pet Savyne as well. “Don’t be jealous, girl. I have two hands for a reason.”

“That’s what I tell them.” I match Sloane’s grin, the weight on my chest easing as I take in her awestruck expression. “Careful, they might not leave you alone now.”

“I hope they never do,” she whispers, leaning down to place a kiss on Sviato’s nose like I had earlier.

Shuffling footsteps bring my attention back to the doorway, and I find Ghost leaning against the frame casually. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before she won them over.”

My eyes fill with tears as I look at him. “Thank you… thank you for keeping them safe.”

He shrugs. “You should thank Orion. When he was at Vee’s place, he noticed two men mauled to death, but no big cats in sight. He told me they were probably out in the woods and the one who asked me to find them.”

I gaze at Orion, at the smoldering look in his eyes. “I… Thank you…”

He shakes his head. “It was nothing. I only… only wanted to make sure the things you loved were protected.”

I stand, walking over to Orion and throwing my arms around his middle. Pressing up onto my toes, I place my lips on the tip of his nose, my heart fluttering at the contact.

“What was that for?” he whispers, his voice low and husky.

“You have a very kissable nose.” I smile, loving the way his arms tighten around me.

“I think I’ve heard that somewhere,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against mine.

A loud, gagging noise breaks the tensions between us. We snap our heads over, finding Sloane’s face buried in Sviato’s fur. “Oh my God, ew! Get a room!”

Laughter fills the space as Ghost steps toward Sloane, pulling her from the ground and into his arms. A large yawn pours from her mouth, and a loving smile tilts Ghost’s serious mouth. “I think it might be time for bed, little one.”

“Nooooo!” she protests, her little arms reaching toward the tigers. “I’m not even sleepy!” Another yawn interrupts her words, and Ghost lets out a little chuckle.

“Whatever you say.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he reaches into his pocket. He throws a small silver key into my hand, then turns and walks from the room.

“You can let the tigers out now that I know they won’t maul anyone to death. And meet me upstairs… we have to finish our conversation.”

Orion and I share a glance. I move toward the tigers, unhooking the collars chaining them to the wall, and follow Orion back up to the main room. We wait on the couch for about ten minutes before Ghost reappears, looking far more tired than he was when he left.

He rubs a hand over his face, plopping down into one of the chairs opposite us. “Sorry about that. Sloane was not happy she wasn’t allowed to hear this conversation. Brett’s in there with her now, so she doesn’t feel so left out.”

I nod, and Orion’s hand finds mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as Ghost takes a breath.

“As you know, your position is now compromised. The Sanctum will be looking all over the city for you—and they won’t stop until you belong to them. Not only does this put your life in jeopardy but also every person around you. Meaning myself, my family, and Orion.”

I look to the side, guilt squeezing my chest. “I know that. If you want me to leave, I will⁠—”

“That is not what I am saying.” Ghost’s eyes pierce mine. “Ten years ago, I tried to rid this city of the Sanctum once and for all. I thought I was successful, but like the damn weeds they are, they’ve clung to the filth of this city and grown back. And if nothing is done to stop them, they will take over anything good that’s left.”

He lets out a heaving sigh. “But we cannot just hide and wait for the storm to pass. If we want to stop them for good, we have to do something drastic.”

Orion and I pin our gazes on Ghost. “Just how drastic are we talking?” Orion asks.

Ghost shrugs. “Phenomenally. And you won’t like it, but it’s the only chance we have.”

45

ORION

“A DOLL RETURNS”

The smell of stale liquor and cigarette smog assaults my senses as Seraphina and I step through the doors of the Neon Flamingo. My eyes scan the crown, blinking past the flashing neon lights as I try to find that familiar face in the crowd.

Ivan Igor… where the fuck are you hiding?

Seraphina’s shoulder brushes against mine, and I look down at her, taking in the concentrated pinch of her face. “You really, little dove?”

“As ready as I can be.” She takes her lip between her teeth, worrying it as she scans the crowd like I had. “I don’t see him anywhere…”

“It’s Friday night. He has to be here somewhere.” The crowd breaks for a split second, and my eyes go wide as I look at the back of the club, finding Ivan and four of his friends spread around a booth. “Got him.”

“Wher—?” Seraphina’s voice is cut off as she takes in Ivan’s face, a fearful shudder running the length of her body. “Fuck. Okay—let’s get this over with.”

She gives me a resolute nod, and we make our way through the crowd of sweaty bodies. The music thumps in time to my pace as I stalk toward Ivan, my hand clenching into a fist at my side as his disgusting face breaks into a laugh.

A man like him shouldn’t be capable of joy.

I stop a few feet from his booth, surveying the crowd of men around him before I make my presence known. Seraphina takes a deep breath from my side, reaches out, grabs my hand, and gives it a squeeze. I look down into her beautiful golden gaze, my chin dipping in a near imperceptible nod.

She steps forward. Ivan looks up, meeting her gaze, and his jaw falls open in shock.

“Seraphina!” Ivan shoots to a stand. “My beautiful little doll! I thought… I thought you were gone.”

Seraphina shakes her head, glancing at me in her periphery. “I had to go away… but I’m back now.”

“I see.” He steps around the table, stopping a foot in front of Seraphina and raising his hands to her face. Instead of touching her, his palms halo her cheeks, the expression on his face one of disbelief. “Seraphina… it’s really you.”

“It’s really me,” she says, her voice taut. “I almost didn’t come back. You betrayed me, Ivan. You told the Sanctum I was alive.”

He shakes his head, his eyes widening in alarm. “I did that because I had to! You were gone, and I…” He looks over her shoulder, meeting my gaze for the first time. “Who are you?”

“I don’t think you want to know.”

Ivan’s lip curls, and he gestures to the four beefy men behind him in the booth. “Is that supposed to scare me? I think you’ll find you’re the one who is really in trouble here.”

Seraphina takes an unwitting step backward in my direction. Ivan sees this, and a red flush creeps up his neck. “Seraphina… what are you doing?”

“I’m not going to be with you anymore, Ivan.” She reaches for my hand, gripping it like a vise. “I found someone else. Someone who can actually take care of me.”

Ivan’s lip curls, and he jerks his gaze back and forth between our faces. “Is that so?”

She nods. “It is.”

“Well then…” Ivan’s face turns eerily calm, and where there once was a snarl, a malicious grin takes its place. “In that case… I’ll have to take you back by force.”

He snaps his fingers, and the four men in the booth rise to a stand. They step toward Seraphina and I, nasty snarls on their faces as they reach into their pockets for their weapons.

My muscles tense, and it’s taking everything in me not to retaliate. But I must. Seraphina squeezes my hand, then forces her face into one of terror.

“Ivan, please… please don’t,” she whimpers, ever the perfect actress. “Please… you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do, my little doll.” He reaches into his pocket, drawing out a dagger that glints pink in the flashing club lights. “You see… I will never let you go. You belong to me!”

A furious growl exits my clenched teeth, but thankfully, I’m able to stay put. Just a little longer…

“I will never belong to you,” she snaps. “I belong to no one.”

Ivan tilts his head, his smile dropping. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

It all happens at once.

One minute, Ivan and his friends are standing several feet away from us—in the next, all four of his brutes descend on me, each man having to grab an extremity to hold me down. I kick, punch, and bellow, but with four men on top of me, I can’t get a single blow in.

Ivan steps toward her, his smirk devious as he slides his finger beneath her chin, tipping Seraphina’s face up to meet him.

And I can do nothing but stand here.

“You belong to me, little doll,” Ivan whispers. “You always have. You always will.”

She shoots fire at him as she glares into his ugly hazel eyes, and I wish I had the power to make him drop dead on the spot—although, that would be too kind a death.

He keeps looking at her, waiting for a response. And she has only one to give him.

“I will never be yours.” She jerks her chin toward me. “Because I already belong to him.”

Ivan lets loose a furious snarl, pulling a long silver syringe from his back pocket. He jams it into her neck, and she falls limp. A scream of rage billows into the air, but a moment later, another syringe is plunged into mine.

And I follow her into the dark.

46

SERAPHINA

“THE KILLING OATH”

When I come to, the first thing I notice is the thick black bag covering my head. I suck in a deep breath, finding the air stale and unsatisfying, but at least I’m alive. I blink into the darkness, my heart racing as the low rumble of an audience makes its way to my ears. It’s low and so far away, but with the reverberations, it’s like I’m sitting in a⁠—

The bag is ripped from my head, and all the air leaves me as I stare out over a great, gold amphitheater. Hundreds of men line the stands, cheering and calling their praise. Some wear white masks, others red, but they all have one thing in common.

They work for the Sanctum.

My heart leaps to my throat, a faint buzzing noise sounding in my ears as I take in the huge golden pillars surrounding the arena. I’ve never seen anything like it—something so extravagant couldn’t possibly exist in the city of Moriton.

Yet here it is…

I’m not sure where exactly I am or how they managed to get the resources to build something like this. All I know is I am genuinely terrified for the first time all night. I look down at the see-through gown draping my body, at the golden cuffs strapped to my wrists and ankles, chaining me to the floor. I tug against them violently, my heart shuddering to a stop when I realize they’re not going to give.

“Welcome, Seraphina Valez.”

I jerk my gaze to my right, my eyes popping in surprise as I look upon the man in the golden bird mask. The light streaming in glints menacingly off the shiny gold beak, but it’s nothing compared to the cruelty in his pitch-black eyes poking through the slits in his mask.

“Where am I?” I pull on my restraints. “What the fuck is this?”

The man tilts his head, refusing to respond. Out of the shadows, twelve more men in bird masks step forward, their eyes trained and hungry on my frame. My pulse skyrockets, and I brace myself, preparing for the worst. One by one, each of the thirteen men crouch into a deep bow, dipping the tips of their masks toward the gold-plated floor. And when they speak, their voices mingle into an eerie, cacophonous chant.

“Madam, you have returned. Madam, we bow to you. Madam, we give our lives to you.”

One by one, each raises their head, meeting my stunned gaze head-on. And the chanting continues. “Oh great and glorious Madam, lead us from ruin. Lead us into the golden light, so we may always be bathed in the warmth of the Sanctum.”

They shuffle on their knees, positioning themselves around me in a half circle, pressing their foreheads into the floor as their chant continues. “May the true gods of death smile upon you. May they allow you to bring the Sanctum back to its glory. May they give you their gifts so you can lead us from the dark.”

The air is pushed from my lungs as I look around—at the Table Members, the hundreds of Masks standing in the crowd—all eerily, completely silent.

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?” I whisper.

The Table Member closest to me raises his head, and I nearly choke on my shock at that pair of familiar hazel eyes.

Dr. Kebler.

“You must complete the sacrifice,” he says. “Only then will you ascend into the role of our Madam.” He gestures behind him toward a large stone table I had not noticed before. There’s a man lying there, chained and bruised and bloody, his breath exiting him in great, rasping heaves.

And that man is… Orion.

Two Table Members appear at my sides, grasping me under the arms and pulling me toward the table. They set me on my feet at the head of the table, and I’m vaguely aware of someone placing a dagger into my palm. Orion meets my eyes, and though he can’t speak past the metal gag between his teeth, I know exactly what he would say.

Do it.

“There is no other way.” One of the Table Members places his hand on my arm, drawing my attention to him. “You are our Madam. There is no other life for you. You know this—deep down, you know it to be true.”

I swallow hard, turning my gaze to the golden wall in front of me, picking a random spot to ground me as I raise the dagger high. When I speak, it's no more than a whisper, though it’s addressed to no one in particular.

“I’m sorry.”

I bring the dagger down.

47

SERAPHINA

“DEATH IS FAR TOO BORING”

The tip of the blade clangs against the table, the force of the vibration sending a shudder up the length of my arm. I can do nothing but blink at that spot on the wall, breathing in the fresh smell of blood, listening as it falls to the floor in delicate, echoing drips.

My eyes flick to the table, taking in the pieces of gold chain holding Orion’s head in place, then to the growing pool of crimson appearing to flow from his neck. A sharp stab of pain echoes from my palm as I squeeze it tighter around the handle of the dagger, but I grit my teeth and tighten my grip even more. Fresh blood flows from the deep gash in my palm and down the glinting silver handle like a crimson waterfall, pooling on the table around Orion’s neck like a halo.

“Well done, Madam.” The Table Member at my side gives me an appreciative nod, not realizing the trick he’s fallen prey to. He turns his back to me, stepping away and forming a circle with the other masked men. They fall into hushed whispers of excitement, so preoccupied with their perceived win that they don’t notice Orion rising from the table.

Because I never actually stabbed Orion Adair—this time, at least. Right as I was lowering the blade to make the killing blow, I slipped my hand down to the bladed portion. The force of the blow cut a deep gash into the middle of my palm, while Orion remained unharmed. And there was so, so much blood—on Orion, on the table, on me—you would only be able to tell where it was coming from if you looked closely. Which the man in the bird mask failed to do.

I take a step back as Orion flexes his arms, the vein in the side of his neck throbbing against his thick golden collar as he uses all of his force to snap his restraints. The chains come away with a booming clang, drawing the attention of all thirteen Table Members. Their eyes widen in shock as Orion pitches forward, yanking away the chain on his ankles.

One of the members takes a step forward at last, raising a shuddering finger and aiming it straight at Orion. “I—you were… you’re dead!”

A menacing chuckle echoes around the space as Orion stands from the table, his eyes dark as pitch. “Oh no. Death is far too boring, especially with all the excitement going on in the city recently.” He turns to me, his eyes smoldering as he hums, “Wouldn’t you agree, little dove?”

My lips tip in a smile as I nod, tossing the dagger through the air. Orion snaps it up with a smirk, his eyes meeting mine as he brings the blade to his mouth. His pupils blow as his tongue lashes out, dragging across the length of the bloodied silver as a hungry growl rumbles from his chest.

Retching sounds drag our attention back to the Table Members, and my nose crinkles in disgust as I see one of the members spewing his guts onto the carpet. The others look just as horrified—some even going as far as to make crosses with their fingers and push them in Orion’s direction.

Orion shakes his head with a low chuckle, lowering the dagger to his side as he adjusts his grip. “What fucking pussies. Scared of a little blood, are we, gentlemen?”

No one utters a word, though a few pitiful whimpers break out among the group. Orion tuts, reaching up to his neck and sliding his fingers beneath the golden collar. With a snarl, he rips it clean away, letting it fall to the floor with a mighty clang. He stalks forward, herding the members into one corner of the room as the smirk on his face widens. “If you’re scared of blood, you won’t like what happens next.”

Orion rushes forward, aiming the dagger directly toward the eyehole of the closest Table Member. He’s just off center, and the blade clangs uselessly against the metal, the sound mingling with Orion's snarl of rage. He brings his free hand up, ripping the mask from the man’s face as he raises the dagger for a second strike, the corded muscles of his forearms straining deliciously. With a sneer, he plunges the dagger through the Table Member’s eye. Blood flows from the socket and down his face and neck as the body shudders, trying desperately to hold on to life as Orion twists the blade deep into his brain tissue.

The man goes limp, and Orion rips the dagger from his eye, allowing the body to fall limp to the gold-plated floors. A puddle of red forms around his feet as he stares down the rest of the men, his shining white smile a terrifying sight combined with the splatters of red coating his face.

“Well? Who’s next?”

Three of the Table Members rush forward, their eyes narrowed behind slits and daggers raised in shaking hands. Orion descends into battle with the three of them, dodging their blows easily and dealing vicious slashes to any part of their bodies he can manage.

I look past the fight to the nine remaining members, my heart constricting when I realize they’re preparing to join the fray. I yank against the thick golden chains holding me to the wall, wishing I possessed the sheer brute force of Orion when they refuse to give way.

Heaving, I glance down at my hand—at the pooling, slippery blood coating my palm—and I know what I must do. Taking a deep breath, I press the palm of my left hand just below the joint of my thumb, closing my eyes and feeling for the correct position. My muscles tense, my lungs scream for me to let out my breath, and just when I think I’m about to pass out, I shove my palm forward.

A deep crack penetrates the air as blinding, white-hot pain spreads from my thumb joint. My eyes fill with tears, and I have to bite my lip to stop my scream from leaving me. Blood fills my mouth as I grab the cuff on my broken hand, my muscles spasming from holding the pain inside as I slowly push the cuff from my wrist.

It clangs to the floor, and for a moment my heart stops—worried I may have drawn the attention of the Table Members. When no one looks my way or tries to stop me, I let out a breath, turning my attention to my busted hand. Gritting my teeth, I grab my thumb and pop the joint back into place. A blinding burst of pain shoots from the area, then ebbs to a gentle throb, and I throw my head back in relief.

That is, until I remember I have to do it to my other hand.

Sighing, I rub some fresh blood onto my good wrist, pushing the pain to the back of my mind as I position my palm like I had before. The second one hurts more than the first, but the relief is twice as sweet as my second cuff falls to the floor.

My joy is cut short, though, whenDr. Kebler decides to look my way. His eyes widen along with mine as he looks from my wrists to the metal cuffs lying on the floor. In a flash, he’s on me, drawing his dagger from his waist and raising it high above my head.

“You… you’re a traitor!” he screams, his eyes shining with tears behind his mask. “You were supposed to save us!”

I duck out of the way as his blade comes down, popping back up on the outside of his arm as the dagger swipes uselessly through the air. Reaching across my body, I grab his wrist and pull, forcing his elbow in a direction it definitely does not want to go.

The man’s scream rivals the booming pop of his joint, releasing the dagger on instinct and letting it clatter to the floor. Before he has time to recover, I swoop down to grab the weapon. My palm aches as I wrap my fist around the handle, but the pain is far from my mind as I reach around the Table Member, dragging the blade deep across the back of his ankles.

The man collapses backward onto the floor, a choked sound rattling his mask as the air leaves him. I clamor on top of him, red crowding my vision as I straddle his chest, raising the dagger high. He only manages to get out a pathetic “Plea—” before the blade is shoved deep into his chest.

My blood boils as I pull the dagger from his chest, deaf to the awful squelch as I raise the blade again, bringing it down onto his chest again, and again, and again.

I’m so lost to my rage that I don’t realize two more Table Members have crept up behind me. I don’t notice—not until their slimy hands grip my arms, stopping me from turning this man’s chest cavity into ground beef.

They pull me off the body, kicking and screaming, and I’m so out of my mind, I can’t seem to get a single hit in with the dagger. A third man joins the mix, grabbing my ankles and immobilizing me completely.

My chest grips with terror the longer I’m unable to escape their hold, and it’s only intensified when I look toward Orion, finding him in a similar position as I am. Five men are holding him down—though just barely—and his skin is peppered with deep, oozing gashes that cause my throat to dry.

“Orion!” I scream, bucking uselessly against my captors’ hold. “Orion! Don’t give up!”

But even as I say it, one of the members holding him down raises his dagger above Orion's chest, the tip of the blade glinting and poised to pierce his heart. As if he knows his time is nearing its end, he turns his head to face me, all the fight going out of his body as his bright blue eyes find mine—and they seem to be saying they’re sorry.

But I don’t want his apologies. I want him to live. I want us both to live.

Yet as I watch that dagger inch closer to his chest, I start to doubt either of us will make it out of this alive.

48

ORION

“THE LAST STAND”

I gaze into Seraphina's enchanting golden eyes, the seconds stretching into infinity as the tip of the dagger inches closer to my heart. And I know—I know if this is the last thing my living eyes see, I could die a happy man.

But that doesn’t happen.

Just as I’m preparing to take my final breath, the door to the balcony bursts open in a mighty explosion. Heat, rubble, and smoke flow into the room, burning my eyes and causing the men around me to choke and retch. The one holding the blade to my heart seems the most affected, and while he’s fighting to get his breath back, I snap my hand up, gripping the bladed fortune of the dagger.

Warm, wet red flows down my forearm as I push the blade away from my heart, a furious bellow flying from my mouth as adrenaline roars in my veins. With nothing but sheer will, I raise my chest from the floor, never taking my eyes off the man in front of me as I rise to a sitting position. Snapping my other hand up, I force the butt of my palm into his wrist joint, smiling as a loud pop fills the air. The man screams, his grip loosening enough on the dagger for me to snatch it from his grip. In a flash, I drag the blade across his neck before he can draw his last breath.

The last four men holding me regain their bearings as the smoke begins to clear, and they quickly reposition so each man can take hold of one limb. I try to take out one more, but two of the fuckers grab my hand with the dagger and work to pry it from my fingers.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you. Orion does love his playthings.”

Everyone’s head whips to the doorway at the entrance of the new voice. You can’t make out his features past the thickness of the smoke, but I would know that white hair and immaculate suit anywhere.

Ghost.

He steps into the room, cunning violet eyes surveying the situation as he reaches toward his waistband. “I’m glad to see the Sanctum remains archaic in their use of pointed objects. That makes this much easier for me.”

He rips a matte black gun from his waist, aiming the tip of his weapon at the man closest to my head. “Tradition is a problem sometimes, isn’t it?”

He fires.

The air cracks as the bullet flies through the air, lodging directly into the Table Member’s forehead. A small red circle appears in his forehead as his eyes roll, and he slumps to the floor, lifeless. Three more shots ring out, each landing home the same as the first, and the remaining men holding me to the floor release their grip.

“Much better.” He turns his attention to the men holding Seraphina. “Would you please let go of the lady?”

“Fuck you!” one of the men snarls. “You’re interfering with a sacred ceremony!”

Ghost shrugs, aiming the gun at the one who spoke. “Suit yourself.”

He fires twice more, and all but the last man slumps to the floor. His fingers tighten around Seraphina’s arms, and her lip curls back in a snarl as she tries to jam her elbow into his gut.

Ghost looks down at the weapon, testing its weight in the palm of his hand. “It appears I’m out of bullets… Kain?”

Through the fog, a man steps forward, so large and hulking he has to duck to make it under the doorframe. Kain stands at the edge of the room, his one good eye piercing through the eye hole of the metal mask strapped to the right half of his face. His molten-silver gaze turns to me, then Seraphina, and last Ghost before he reaches into his waistband and pulls out his own gun. His massive, tattooed biceps strain as he tosses the weapon to Ghost, a teasing smirk tilting the corner of his mouth.

“I knew you’d need more than six.”

Ghost rolls his eyes. “I thought they would be able to take out more than half of the Table Members before we arrived. It’s not my fault I had high expectations⁠—”

Ghost's voice is cut off by the choking sound coming from the last Table Member, and our gazes are all torn toward where Seraphina was being held.

No longer.

Kain’s mouth falls open in utter shock as he witnesses the tiny girl in front of him—at the horrible, vicious things she’s doing to that man. Meanwhile, Ghost holds a haughty expression, his violet eyes swirling with a mixture of pride and an I told you so.

And I… I think I just came.

Seraphina’s brow is furrowed in concentration as she straddles the man’s chest, holding him in place while she smashes the remains of my golden collar into his face. The gold luster of the collar is tainted by splatters of blood—hers, his—and it gets dirtier each time she slams the golden ring against him. Bone shatters, blood spews, but through it all, Seraphina stays eerily quiet. The only indication of her rage is the faint pink flush creeping up her neck, mottling the apples of her cheeks.

Only when the Table Member’s face has been reduced to a concave, bloodied mess of tissue does Seraphina stop. Her chest heaves as she gazes down at the lifeless body, a manic little smile creeping across her face. She turns her head, meeting my gaze head-on, and my heart stops. I see the monster lurking inside her—the cruel, calculating, dangerous beast roaring to break free—and I fall in love with her all over again.

“God, you’re perfect,” I whisper. In a trance, I step toward her, my hands reaching, wanting, needing to touch her. She rises to a stand, her shoulders slumping with fatigue. When I wrap my arms around her, she lets me—even goes so far as to let out a satisfied little hum—and it’s the best fucking drug in the world.

I squeeze her to my chest, breathing in her intoxicating scent as my eyes roll to the back of my head. This… this is heaven.

But it’s all cut short when that fucking geezer clears his throat.

I turn my head to Ghost, my eyes shooting molten fire. “What?”

“I’m sure we all want to celebrate… but I think you’ve forgotten something.” He takes a step forward, gesturing out past the balcony to the crowd of Masks.

“Fuck.” I slowly release Seraphina from my grasp. “Fuck!”

I’m running through the possibility of us being able to take out over a hundred masks when Seraphina removes herself from my grip, her steps ghost-like as she moves to the balcony. I reach my arm out to grab her and pull her back when I catch Ghost’s eye. He shakes his head firmly, warning me not to interfere.

“Don’t, Orion. Let her do this.”

I shake my head. Do what? I want to ask. I turn my head, my eyes landing square on Seraphina as my heart seizes. What is she doing?

I don’t need to wait long. Because as soon as Seraphina stops at the edge of the balcony, her shoulders drawn and proud as she gazes out over the hundreds of Masks, I get my answer.

They’re not fighting back.

They’re… bowing.

49

SERAPHINA

“A TRANSFER OF LOYALTY”

I look out over the crowd of dutiful soldiers—my soldiers—and my veins hum with an intoxicating swell of power. Because at this moment, I know. At this moment, I’m positive that if I ordered it, each one of those men would take their lives this very instant. They would do it to please me. Because I said. Because I wanted.

Because it’s the design.

They, like me, have been raised by the Sanctum’s cruel design. They have been taught to hate, to be violent, to be merciless. But above all, they have been taught to be obedient.

And I am the one who holds the strings.

Because the sacrifice was performed—I still have the blood of that Table Member on my hands, and all of the Masks know it—and now, I have all the power. I am their Madam.

My gaze flits toward Orion, at the awestricken look etched across his face. He looks reverent. He looks spellbound.

He looks delicious.

“Orion.” I hold my hand out at my side. “Stand by me.”

He nods, grabbing the Venetian mask and stalking to my side, his eyes smoldering as he places the hefty mask into my hand. Before I put it on, he leans forward, placing delicate kisses against the apple of my cheek. “Anything for you, my queen.”

My heart flutters at his low rumble, a flush creeping up my neck as I turn my gaze back to the crowd. I don’t know if I can do this—if I would even be a good Madam—but I have to try. For the good of this city and all the innocent people in it, I have to try. My hands shake as I place the mask on my face, but when I speak, my voice holds nothing but authority.

“You do not know me, just as I do not know any of you. But I know the thing that raised us, and I know it well. I know what you have been taught, and what you have been made to believe. But most of all, I know what you have lost.” My voice echoes across the amphitheater, nothing but the gentle rustle of clothing to interrupt me. I square my shoulders, projecting my voice so that all will be able to hear me. “The men who pretended to rule you—who gave you orders in my absence—are traitors to the good of the world. They have infected you with their lies and abused the power you possess. I will be doing no such thing.”

“From today, and all the days to come, you will no longer do harm. You will stand at my side, and you will follow the orders I give—but it will be nothing like it was. In return, I vow to lead you all with mercy. Not cruelty, or with fear, but with kindness. With understanding. I will not let the atrocities this organization profits from continue. Things will be different. They will be hard at first—maybe even impossible—but I know that in time, we can make a better world than we were given. If you agree to follow me, we can make things good again.”

When I’m through, silence is the only thing that greets me. My heart clenches, believing for one horrible moment that my speech meant nothing. That those hundreds of men are about to storm the balcony and take my life.

But then, slowly, one by one, each of the Masks takes a knee. It starts as a ripple that grows to a wave, until eventually, each one of the men is on the ground, heads bowed low in loyalty. Loyalty to me.

Orion slides his hand up my back, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Looks like they agree with you.”

“Congratulations,” Ghost pipes up, stepping to my other side and bumping his shoulder against mine. “Now, you just have to figure out how to rule this bunch of maniacs.” His eyes twinkle as he meets mine. “Luckily, I know a thing or two about that.”

Kain clears his throat, drawing all our attention back to the man with the half mask. He gestures to all the dead bodies lying around us, a flabbergasted expression twisting his features. “This is great and all… but who the fuck will clean up this mess?”

I turn to the balcony, a smile lighting my face. “I’m going to need three volunteers…”

50

ORION

“LUNCH BREAK”

1 week later…

My steps echo throughout the gold-hewn hallways, pounding in tune to my rapid heartbeat as I hasten toward Seraphina’s office. Since Seraphina took control of the Sanctum, we’ve been living here, in their new headquarters. The building is quite large—though tiny compared to the Sanctum’s former dwelling—but it does allow just enough space to house the Masks and for Seraphina to have a small office, so it’s perfect.

She’s been working tirelessly this past week to get everything under control, and to make good on her promises to the Sanctum. She’s been so focused, she often forgets to eat, sleep, or have any fun. Which is where I come in. I look down at the bag of greasy takeout in my palm, a smile eating my face as I hurry my pace.

Halfway down the hallway, I pass by a man in a red mask—a Disposer—that I now know as Adam.

“Hey, man.” I give him a little wave, brushing past him as I continue my mission.

“Hey, Orion.” His bright blue eyes snap down to the greasy bag in my hand. “Are you going to see Valez?”

I stop short at the mention of Seraphina’s last name—a name all the masks refer to her as now, seeing as she abolished the whole “madam” title as soon as she came to power.

I turn to face Adam, my brow raised in question. “I am.”

Adam reaches into his pocket, pulling out a rolled note and passing it to me. “Could you give this to her? I would, but I have to take a shit like you wouldn’t believ⁠—”

“Too much information, Adam,” I deadpan. “Is it something important?”

Adam looks at his feet, his face flushing. “Well, she had asked for all the Masks’ birthday cake preferences… so kinda?”

I bite back my chuckle, imagining my little dove poring over the list until the wee hours of the morning, making sure every Mask gets the type of cake he wants. “I’ll guard it with my life.” I hold the paper to my chest, pulling my shoulders back with a mock salute. “Now get out of here before you shit yourself.”

Adam laughs, turning from me and all but sprinting down the hall toward the bathrooms. I sigh, shaking my head at his retreating frame. It’s hard to believe that in just one week, Seraphina has managed to turn that bunch of brutish killers into silly, blushing teenagers before turning and walking the rest of the distance to Seraphina’s office.

I don’t bother knocking—one of my favorite things is to catch her off guard—and when I swing the door open, I’m greeted with a delicious expression of shock.

“Hello, little dove.” I step into her darkened office, closing the door softly behind me. “It’s lunchtime.”

Seraphina brings a hand to her heart, trying to catch her breath at the fright I just gave her. I’m halfway across the office when she stands, showcasing the silky black romper dress thing that hugs all her curves to perfection.

She tilts her head, a little smile playing on her lips as I stalk around the desk. “I didn’t realize it was so late.“

“Hmm. Lucky you have me to remind you, then.” I wrap my arms around her waist, yanking her flush against my chest before sliding my hands down to cup her ass. I give her a squeeze, and she lets out a little squeal, a pink flush mottling the pale flesh of her cheeks. “I’m fucking starving.”

“Are you?” She huffs a laugh, her lids lowering seductively. She gazes up at me through pale lashes, and that molten heat in her gaze has my veins roaring with want.

“Always.” I scoop under her thighs and haul her into the air. She wraps her legs around my waist as I lean into her neck, sinking my teeth deep into the spot above her thrumming pulse. She lets out a pained hiss, her eyes rolling back as she arches into me.

“Fuck, Orion,” she pants, her lids lowering as I kiss and suck at the area. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

A hungry growl rumbles in my chest as I turn around, the base of my thigh pressing into the edge of her desk. Holding her to me with one arm, I sweep the other out in a great arc, sending the contents of her desk crashing to the floor.

Seraphina presses her mouth against mine hungrily, a delirious moan echoing into my mouth as I lower her onto the flat surface. Her hands reach for my waistband, but I slap her away with a snarl.

“No, Seraphina. Bad girl.” I lower to my knees, snapping my hands out and forcing her knees apart. I slide my palm down her thigh, inching my fingertips toward her center as quick little gasps fall from her lips.

“That’s better.” I slide my fingers beneath the edge of that silky black fabric. I fist the area covering her pussy, ripping it from her body with one powerful swipe. Seraphina cries out in shock, a sound that turns to a moan as I press my face against her dripping cunt.

“Fuck. Yes, yes, yes,” she moans, reaching down and fisting my hair. She tugs violently as I press my tongue inside her, swirling the tip up, down, and around her walls, coating my mouth in her taste. My eyes roll to the back of my head as my cock swells, a delicious, pulsing heat spreading throughout my veins, burning me up from the inside out.

When I think I’m about to explode, I pull my tongue from her, dragging the flat of it straight up to her clit. I flick the little nub with my tongue, wrapping my lips around it and giving her a few gentle sucks.

Seraphina’s back arches as a gasping moan falls from her mouth, her fingers tightening painfully in my hair. I keep sucking her, flicking my tongue lightly against her clit as I push a finger into her dripping cunt. I curl it back, pressing relentlessly against that spot that drives her mad, licking and sucking and getting utterly lost in the heavenly noises she’s making for me.

“Fuck! Orion, I’m… I’m going to…” Her thigh muscles shudder, her walls convulse and clench around my finger, and I know one more lick will push her over the edge.

Using every last ounce of restraint I have, I pull away from her pussy. A frustrated scream echoes in the air, mingling with the low rumble of my laugh.

“Patience, little dove.” I hold her thighs apart as I stand. One hand shoots to my belt, and I rip it off with one stroke before dropping and kicking my pants to the side. I fist the hard length of my cock, meeting Seraphina’s wide-eyed gaze as I inch the head toward her opening. “Good things come to little sluts who wait.”

On the last word, I shove my cock inside her. Seraphina’s eyes pop, her head falls back and a choked moan pours from her lips. I reach forward, palming her breasts as I fuck her, thrusting violently, slamming my head against the back of her walls as red crowds my vision.

I slide a hand down her stomach and over the mound of her sex, my fingers inching toward her clit. I thrust once, twice more, and I pinch her clit just the way she likes. With an echoing scream, Seraphina comes, her entire body convulsing as her orgasm tears through her.

“Fuck, this pussy.” My chest rises and falls rapidly as I continue fucking her, losing all control as she breaks, squirting her juices all over the table and floor. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum.”

I slam my hips flush against hers, tossing my head back as a deep groan pushes from my chest. My cock throbs inside her, spewing every last drop of cum I have to give. When I’m done, I collapse forward, holding myself up with shaking arms as I press my forehead to hers, closing my eyes.

“God, you’re perfect,” I whisper, pressing a lavish kiss to her sweet lips.

“You are.” She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in for another long, loving kiss. “You and your massive, pierced cock.”

I can’t help but laugh. “It’s only ever for you—I would fucking hope you thought so.”

She giggles, a pink flush creeping up her neck. She opens her mouth to respond, but at that moment, my cock slips from her. With a growl, I push off her, returning to my crouched position between her thighs.

I bring two fingers toward the stream of cum flowing from her pussy, using the pads to push all my cum back inside her. I shove them inside up to the knuckle, drawing a small gasp from Seraphina as I stretch that sensitive area.

A dark chuckle falls from my lips as I pull my hand from her, leaning forward and lapping up the remnants of my release. Seraphina shudders as I drag my tongue over her clit, but I only torture her for a moment. Ducking back down to her entrance, I shove my tongue deep inside her, swiping it all along her walls and moaning at the new taste.

“You always taste better with my cum inside you,” I groan. She gasps as I drag my tongue once more up her length, and when I stand, the hooded look in her eyes has my cock throbbing to attention all over again.

“Fuck.” I grab my hardening cock, taking my lip between my teeth as I stare down at Seraphina spread and dripping for me. “Fuck. How long is your lunch break?”

Her lips tip in a sinful grin. “Does it matter?”

As I shove my cock deep inside her once more, I realize it doesn’t.

Not at fucking all.

51

SERAPHINA

“THE SECRET LOCKER”

1 week later…

I bring my forefingers to my temples, pressing down to try to stave away the headache that’s been trying to push forward all day. I’ve barely slept all week—something that’s not normal for me now that I have Orion—but it’s for a good cause, so I have no room to complain.

Over the past few days, Orion, Ghost, Brett, and I have been working tirelessly to shut down the trafficking rings run by the Sanctum. By now, we’ve stopped the import and distribution of X, but finding and stopping all the organizations running the child trafficking have been harder to stop. Every hour, every minute that goes by, children are being abused in this city—and I can’t rest until I stop it.

The sound of footsteps draws my attention to the doorway, and I’m met with Dorian’s worried hazel gaze. “You okay, boss?”

I nod tersely, dropping my hands from my head and giving him a bright smile. Dorian is head of the Reapers, and one of my trusted Masks. He and Ezra—the newest Phantom—are truly integral in bringing down the evil in the city. From their knowledge of the criminal organizations, to their top-notch information-acquiring skills, they’re truly irreplaceable.

“I’m okay. Just a little headache—how’s the melting process?”

“It’s going… slower than expected.” Dorian shakes his head, tossing his dark red hair from side to side. “Most of their gold had already been incorporated into other materials… wallpaper, flooring, pillars… so we’re having to separate it before we melt any of the gold down.”

“I was afraid of that.” I blow out a breath, my mind whirling. One of the first things I had the Masks do when I took charge was melt down all the gold the Sanctum had hoarded. With this, we’ll be able to pay for infrastructure and care for all the children we eventually save.

But we have to be able to melt it first.

“How much longer do you think?” I ask, staring at a spot on the wall just past his shoulder.

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Me and the other Masks are having a meeting later to go over different tactics.” Noticing the expression on my face, he clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his face. “We’ll figure it out, Seraphina. I promise.”

“Thanks, Dorian.” I force a smile onto my face. “Is there something you needed?”

He shakes his head. “Orion asked me to come and check on you.” His expression turns into a sheepish one. “He also told me to tell you… to get some sleep.”

I raise a brow, watching with amusement as Dorian all but cowers under my gaze. “That’s a good idea.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, good… I’ll talk to you later, boss.”

When Dorian leaves, I sit back in my chair with a heavy sigh. I gaze around my office, my eyes catching on the little black duck sitting square in the middle of the shelf, at the small silver urn that rests next to it, holding Vee’s ashes. My hands find my desk drawer, and I pull it open, staring straight down at the silver storage locker key.

What do you open? I pull it out, twirling the little key between my fingers, watching as the light catches and bounces off the slight grooves in the metal. When I first found it, the pain of losing Vee was too raw—I didn’t even want to think about the thing.

But now… now, I have to know. I have to see what’s in that locker.

I’m running out of my office before I realize what I’m doing. Halfway down the hall, I run smack into Orion, nearly falling on my ass from the force. Orion reaches out, steadying me with strong arms, an amused smirk spread across his handsome face.

“Where’s my little dove flying off to now?” He reaches a hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “And will you allow me to accompany you?”

My pulse spikes as I gaze into his bright blue eyes, a warm feeling spreading from my chest to my fingertips. “Of course.” I press up on my toes to place a chaste kiss against his lips. “I would love that.”

He grabs my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Lead the way, beautiful.”

We exit the Sanctum headquarters, the chill spring air nipping at my exposed skin, drawing goose bumps to the surface. Orion runs his hand up and down my back, giving me some much-needed warmth as I lead him toward his dark blue truck parked off to the side.

He opens the passenger door, helping me inside before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Where are we off to?” he asks past the roar of the engine.

I look down at the silver key in my palm, reading the smudged letters written in Sharpie on the front of the key. “Hidden Treasures Storage.”

“No one has asked to see this unit in years,” the woman at the front desk tells us. “Are you related to Elvira?”

I go to shake my head, but Orion pipes up, “She’s her granddaughter.”

“Oh. Of course.” The woman smiles kindly, pushing up her thick-framed glasses. “It’ll be through those doors, just down the hall on your left. Number 342. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” I take Orion’s hand and head through the sliding glass doors. We walk down to room 342, and I stop in front of the door, my hand shuddering around the key.

“It’s okay.” Orion wraps his hand around mine and leads it toward the lock. “We’ll do this together.”

I take a deep breath as I turn the key in the lock, then let it out as I push it open. My mouth falls open as I take in the contents of the storage locker. Dozens of extravagant red silk gowns line the back wall, the gold stitching glinting gently in the light streaming into the small space. On the left side sit two large file cabinets, and just below—lying on the floor in the dirt and dust—is Vee’s golden Venetian mask.

I step toward it, picking it up with shaking hands. It’s tarnished and chipped from age, but yet it’s clearly a Madam’s mask. So Ghost was right… she really was a Madam.

I place the mask on top of the file cabinet, then start pulling open the drawers to inspect their contents. Gold-plated daggers, armor, and hundreds of vials of Vespyr fill the top drawers. But it’s the content of the lower ones that cause my heart to seize.

Files. Files upon files of information. On Vee. On me.

I pull the first folder from the drawer, my hands shaking as I run my finger of the faded blue ink at the top. Annie Smith - “Seraphina Valez.”

Annie Smith? I flip open the folder, my eyes going wide as I take in the picture of the little blond baby clipped to the front. She’s smiling, holding a light blue pacifier in her chubby fist—but it’s her eyes that cause me to freeze.

Eyes… eyes like mine.

I flip through the file, emotion clenching my chest as I read more about the little girl. About me.

Annie Smith, born to Tom and Annabelle Smith. Acquired by R-159 on October 12, 1998. Biological parents were paid a sum of 70k and were given a week's supply of X for the commodity.

Below, in the margins, there’s a handwritten note.

Psychological evaluation: prime candidate for future Madam.

I frown, reaching to the back of the cabinet where a folder with Maggie’s name sits. Unlike mine, her first name hasn’t been changed. And at the bottom of her page, her evaluation is much different from mine.

Psychological evaluation: prime candidate for fodder/training other Madams

I throw the folder back into the cabinet, my stomach twisting with disgust. They knew from day one who they wanted to be their next Madam… and they knew Maggie would die.

Shaking my head, I close the cabinet and step back, moving my attention to the other file cabinet. This one is empty, save for the bottom drawer.

Inside, I find only a small glass vase and a dove feather. I twirl the feather between my fingers, a memory from over a decade ago crashing into my mind.

Maggie… Maggie gave me this feather. I remember now. The day the Madam cut my face, this was the thing Maggie wanted to show me.

The urn weighs about the same as the feather as I pull it out. I bring it up to the light, noticing something small and white peeking out of the lid. Frowning, I lift the top off, surprised to find a note attached to the base of the lid.

Even more surprised to find the vase contains ashes.

“What the heck?” My brows furrow as I stare down at the remains, utterly confused as to who they’re supposed to belong to. Maybe Aaron, Vee’s old love? Shrugging, I place the urn carefully onto the cabinet and fold open the note, my eyes taking in the handwritten words hungrily.

Dove,

If you’re reading this letter, it means I am no longer in this world.

It also means I have some apologizing to do.

First, for never explaining the contents of this locker. For never confiding in you about my past. You must realize—as someone who was almost forced to become a Madam herself—how secretive we are about the organization that raised us. How, even though we hate them, we still carry a shred of loyalty to them. You and I may be the only two people who know it. For we escaped. We survived.

Forty years ago, I was tasked with selecting a new Madam. Knowing I would have to end my life, knowing it was what the Sanctum expected of me.

I was a coward—or the bravest person alive—but I ran the day after selection. I grabbed my possessions in the dead of night, and I took to the streets. I hid in plain sight, knowing the Sanctum would never expect to find me there. Not a Madam—with her taste for finery, with the extravagant life of luxury I was allowed to live.

What fools they were.

I had resigned to live my life alone and on the streets of Moriton when I came across… you.

When I saw you ten years ago, scrawny and dirty and rummaging through the trash—I knew exactly what you were. I could see so much of myself in those eyes of yours—so much of the anger, the hatred I carried with me to that day. But when I saw you, it all fell away. And suddenly, I wanted to be good. I wanted to help you.

And so, I did.

The more I got to know you, the more I realized how truly alike we were. You see, we have both lost someone dear to us. Someone we swore we would protect—and we failed. I was not allowed to have anything of my Aaron’s—even the little duck he gave me was burned to ash by the Sanctum. I was not allowed to keep his remains, or bury him in a dignified way. I was not allowed to mourn.

So when I found out about your Maggie—you do like to talk in your sleep—I knew I had to do something. I snuck out one night, to the place I know they keep the remains of fallen Madam and Mask trainees… and I took your Maggie back for you.

I know this will offer no comfort—will take away none of the pain—but at least now, you can have a piece of the girl you loved. The one you will always love.

Mourn her, Seraphina. Take as much time as you need. And when you’re ready… let her go. You have lost so much already, but I’m hoping this will offer you a shred of comfort.

I know my death must be painful as well—and I so wish I was there to hold you, to tell you it will be okay. But I am not, so I must leave you with the only thing I have left. My advice:

You will never escape the things they did to you. It will hurt. It will hurt deep, and it will hurt long. It will consume you until you think you can’t blink, breathe, or be without feeling that sharp, painful ache.

But it only hurts because you survived.

So keep surviving, my darling girl. Show them all who you are. Show them what it means to be good, to turn your face from evil. Show them what it means to have strength—and not the kind that comes from brute force, but the one that comes from within.

You have a powerful heart, Seraphina. One capable of so, so much love.

Give it to someone. If it’s the last thing you do—if you only do it for me—just promise me you will.

There is no better cure in the world.

All my love,

Vee.

Tears fall freely down my face as I finish the contents of the letter. I fold it neatly, hands shaking and making it nearly impossible to stuff it into my pocket. I reach for the urn—the remains of my precious Magoo—and I hold it to my chest like a lifeline.

Orion steps over to me, throwing his arms around me and pulling me deep into his chest, keeping me in one piece as my sobs fill the air. They’re sad cries—but also relieved, and I’m such a mess of differing emotions, I’m not sure what to do. When they subside, he pulls back, blue eyes shimmering with barely contained worry.

I know he wants to talk—to know about the contents of the letter. And soon, when it stops hurting so much, I’ll tell him. Until then…

I look up at him, the warmth in his gaze thawing my blackened heart.

“Let’s go home.”

52

ORION

“ONE TALL POLE”

As soon as Seraphina and I get into the cabin, she turns to me, nibbling her bottom lip with lowered lids. My heart stutters, shooting hot blood throughout my body as my cock throbs to attention.

“Fuck,” I groan. “I know what that look is for.”

She releases her lip in a sinful smirk, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the bedroom. We’re in the middle of the room when I stop her, yanking her arm to make her face me. My hands reach up, cupping her little face in my palms as I search her gaze.

“Are you sure?” I lean forward, brushing my lips against hers. Just an hour ago, you were ready to break down, and now…

“I need you, Orion.” Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them away. “I need you to make me… make me forget about everything for a while. Please.”

“Fuck.” I tip my head back, my pulse thumping wildly in my ears at the sweet sound of that word on her lips. “You don’t know what you do to me, dove.”

She presses on her toes, brushing her lips along the underside of my jaw. A shudder runs through me, and my arms snap out, hauling Seraphina hard against my chest. My breath comes out in heavy pants as I gaze down at her, barely able to contain that thing inside me that needs all of her, all of the time.

“Please, Orion.” She slides her palm down the front of my chest and cups my cock. “Please fuck me.”

Red crowd my vision as I come undone. With a growl, I haul her into my arms, stalking toward the closet toward the back of the bedroom. Holding her against me with one arm, I rip the door open, a devious smile carving across my face as I reach for the thick metal pole sitting at the back.

Seraphina gazes curiously at the gleaming metal pole as I place it onto the bedroom floor, positioning the square base in such a way that it suctions to the floorboards. I place Seraphina onto the bed, my voice a menacing growl as I speak. “Remove your clothes and stay there.”

She obeys, but her eyes follow every twitch of my muscles as I move back into the closet to grab the attachment. The silicone dildo is heavy in my palm, causing the little rubber projections to press into my skin, leaving behind tiny red marks. Seraphina’s lips part in shock as I place the large, ribbed dildo on top of the pole, and she lets out a little squeak when I crook a finger at her, ordering her to come near.

She stands on shaking legs, the insides of her thighs already glistening as I position her right above the metal pole. I slide my hand down the curve of her back, satisfaction humming in my chest at the shiver my touch elicits.

“Are you ready to break for me, Seraphina?” My hand stops at the peak of her ass, and I hold my breath as I slide a little lower, pressing a finger inside her tight little asshole.

Seraphina gasps at the pressure and tries to clench her thighs together, but I stick my foot out, holding her legs spread as I add another finger inside.

“Shh.” I brush my lips against the thrumming pulse in her neck. “Be a good little cum hole and take it.”

Her legs shudder beneath her as she desperately tries to remain upright. A menacing chuckle rumbles from my throat as I lean down, my hand cupping the lever and slowly raising the height of the pole. The mushroom head of the dildo inches closer and closer to her entrance as Seraphina spasms around my fingers, and her lips part in shuddering gasps as I add a third.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” My heart seizes as the head presses against her dripping folds. It slides in so easy—like it was made for her—and as soon as the base hits her pussy, she comes undone.

“Fuck!” she screams, her entire body convulsing with the strength of her orgasm. She falls forward, her body folding in half when she’s no longer able to control her muscles, but the thick metal pole keeps her lower half upright.

Stuck.

“Wh-what?” Weakly, she tries to straighten. When that doesn’t work, I snap up, grabbing her shoulders and hauling her into an upright position. She gazes up at me through hazy golden eyes, her bottom lip pinned between her teeth as she tries to remove herself from the pole. “Orion… I can’t move.”

“I know.” I smirk, leaning down and stealing her lip with my teeth. “My favorite way to have you.”

I drop my pants to the floor, kicking them to the side as I fist my cock. I run my hand along the length, a low hiss escaping my clenched teeth as I inch it toward Seraphina’s ass. I spit into my palm, rubbing moisture along the head of my cock before pressing it against her tight little hole. A gasp leaves Seraphina’s lips as I shove the head inside, the sound overshadowed by the growling moan that leaves mine.

“Fuck, Seraphina.” I press the rest of my length inside her, my eyes rolling to the back of my skull as pleasure bursts from every pore. “Fuck, all your holes are perfect. They squeeze me so well—fucking made for my cock.” My muscles shudder as I thrust in and out of her violently.

A scream is yanked from Seraphina’s throat as her body is filled to completion—my cock and the ribbed dildo stuffed deep in her, working in tandem to bring her to the edge. I slide my hands around to her stomach, one hand reaching to cup her full breast while the other slides down to her clit.

I pinch her clit between my thumb and forefinger as I twist her nipple, and Seraphina’s head falls back in a deep, throaty moan. Her muscles spasm, contracting around my cock as she bellows her pleasure. The sound is such sweet music—and I’m already so, so close to the edge—that when she turns her head, meeting my gaze head-on, I break.

My head tips back in a groan as my cock shudders inside her, spewing my release deep into her asshole. I hold it inside her, lightly toying with her clit as the last drops of my cum fill her. With a throaty moan, I let my cock slip from her hole, my fingers digging into her skin and drawing beads of blood to the surface.

She looks at me with wide eyes as I crouch low, pulling her ass apart with my palms, a devious smirk on my face. A gasp fills the air as I fall forward, licking away the dribbles of cum that leak from her tight hole. I roll my tongue around the sensitive area, loving the gasps and moans my touch draws from her parted lips.

“You taste even better with my cum inside you.” I pull away, smacking her ass hard enough to leave a print. She jerks from the force but is still unable to move due to the dildo lodged deep in her dripping cunt.

Chuckling, I straighten, keeping my hands on her as I lick up the length of her spine. Seraphina shudders, a slight convulsion of her tired muscles that turns into full-blown quaking as I pull her up, ripping the dildo from her pussy.

“Fuck!” Her eyes go wide as she gazes down at the puddle on the floor. “Is that from me?”

“All you.” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to my chest as I place a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Every glorious, delicious inch of you.”

Her breath stutters as I walk us to the bed, gingerly peeling the covers back before climbing beneath. I pull Seraphina impossibly closer to me, wishing I could sew her into my skin, wanting to take every piece of her and fold it into mine.

I brush her silver hair back from her forehead, my heart seizing at the powerful emotion swirling in her eyes. “What’s that look for?”

“Hmm? I don’t knowww….”

I growl, covering her throat with my palm and applying pressure. “I don’t like when you keep secrets from me, little dove…”

She giggles, and the sound is so pure and full of love that it causes me to jerk back. “You really want to know?”

I nod, unblinking, as I run my thumb across her cheek, utterly enchanted by the memory of that sound. “Always…”

She rolls over, pressing her swollen lips to the tip of my nose. She dips lower, kissing my mouth, my chin, and back up to my lips. Her eyes are hooded, her pupils blown, eating up the beautiful gold or her irises. And when she speaks, it’s an even more lovely tune than that laugh.

“I was just thinking… that I love you.”

I reel back, searching her face for any sign of deceit. Any chance she’s playing some horrible prank on me?

But the only thing I find is honesty.

“I love you, Seraphina,” I whisper, taking her face in my palms. She’s so small, so fragile, I’m worried I’ll break her.

But no… that’s not right.

Because Seraphina is anything but fragile. She has teeth and claws of her own, sharp and deadly and ready to fight. She’s a force to be reckoned with—and no matter how I’ve tried, I’m the one shattering beneath her gaze. I’m the one begging—pleading on my hands and knees—for her to be mine.

“I love you, my darling little dove. I have since the first moment I saw you, and I have loved you more every day since.” Her eyes well with tears, and I reach up, swiping them away with the pad of my thumb. “I will love you more tomorrow than I do today. I will love you more every day until my death. And then…”

I lean forward, stopping when our lips are just a breath apart. “And then, my sweet Seraphina… I will love you from the never. I will love you when I am nothing more than food for worms, when my skin and bones dissolve, and my brains turn to mush. My soul is irrevocably tied to yours now, and I… nothing could have ever made me so happy. Nothing ever will.”

She smiles. And it’s a good smile. A pure smile—one free of hatred. Of pain. On the contrary—the only thing shining in her golden gaze is pure, unadulterated devotion.

“You’re mine, Orion Adair.” She brushes her lips gently against mine. “Just as I am yours. Forever.”

I close the distance, and the sky opens up as our lips meet. For once, someone is listening. Someone cares.

And they’ve given me her.

“Forever,” I repeat. “Forever.”

As if that would be long enough.

53

SERAPHINA

“GOODBYE”

6 months later…

My lungs ache, my muscles spasm, my nose is damn near about to fall off from the frosty air, but I can’t stop—not when I’m so close. I look to my right, then hurry my pace when I see the sky is now a pale violet hue. I’m not looking where I’m going, and the toe of my hiking boot snags on a rock, sending me off-balance. My eyes widen as I tilt toward the edge of the cliff, looking down at the five-thousand-foot drop for one terrifying moment before I’m pulled back onto the trail.

“Watch your step, little dove.” Orion pants, his face set in concentration as he hooks one of his tethers to my backpack. “There. Now you won’t be able to fly away from me.”

I bark a laugh, and a cloud of vapor billows in the frozen air. “I wasn’t trying to fly away.”

“Mmhmm.” He swats my ass, tipping his chin at the trail ahead. “Go on, Seraphina. The sun isn’t going to wait for us to rise.”

This time, I keep my eyes on the frozen path as we climb the rest of the distance to the summit. It took months of training, preparation, and planning to get here, but today, we’re doing it—we’re climbing to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

It’s been a difficult and overwhelming seven-day journey, and I can’t help but think how much Maggie would have loved it. Each day has been a different experience and climate—from grasslands, rainforests, and deserts in the first half, to the snow and icy tundra of the second half as we ascended into the sky—they all possess their own unique beauty and danger.

I reach my arm back, feeling the space in my backpack where I’ve carefully stored Maggie and Vee’s ashes. My eyes sting with tears as I think of their smiling faces, but I press forward, needing to make it to the top before the sun crests the horizon.

It seems too good to be true when we finally reach the summit. Every muscle in my body screams for me to bend over, to sit and rest after that tiresome journey, but I can’t. I’m frozen, awestruck by the beautiful scene in front of me.

It feels like I’m on top of the world—and I’m not sure if it’s the altitude or the physical activity, or both—but I can’t seem to catch my breath. Orion stands next to me, his hand enveloping mine as we look out at the horizon. The top of the sun is just starting to appear, coloring the snow-capped mountains in beautiful pink and golden hues. The snow sparkles like diamonds in the glowing light, burning my retinas and making my chest ache with the pure beauty of it.

“It’s spectacular.” The howling wind carries my voice away. Orion squeezes my hand, unzipping my bag and pulling out the two small urns. One silver for Vee, one bright red for Maggie. Both small and tough and beautiful—just like the two women I loved so much.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, bathing the world in a bright golden light, Orion helps me pull the tops from the urns. My hands shake as I hold the vases out over the cliff, and for one horrible moment, I don’t think I’ll be able to do it. I don’t think I can let go.

“You were right.”

I look to the side, my mouth parting in shock as I gaze into Maggie’s cobalt eyes.

“Wh—right about what?” I sputter.

She gestures to the horizon, her cheeks spreading in an infectious grin. “We made it to the top of the mountain.” Her bright pink aura bursts from her shoulders, mingling with the hue of the sunrise and casting her face in a beautiful light. “You brought me to see the sunrise. Just like you said you would.”

My eyes brim with tears, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to form the words to respond. I blink, and Vee appears at her side, placing a warm, weathered palm onto Maggie’s shoulder.

“You did it, Seraphina.” The corners of her eyes crinkle with her smile. “I knew you could. Now, there’s just one thing left.”

“We love you, Nina,” Maggie adds. “We always will. But now, it’s time to let us go.”

I nod, holding back the heaving sob that tries to break free. For a moment, I’m worried I’ll drop the urns because my hands are shaking so badly. But then Orion reaches out, covering my frigid skin with his warm, calloused palm, and I stop shivering.

“It’s okay, little dove.” He places a delicate kiss atop my head. “You can do this.”

Sucking in a breath, I spare one last, long glance at Maggie and Vee. Etching their faces into my mind—my soul—so I might always have them with me.

“I love you, too,” I choke. “I will always love you.”

I turn my eyes from those spirits, gazing out at the wonderful sunrise. I twist my wrists, watching as the breeze captures the ashes and willows them away. I hold my hand outstretched until the last of my loved ones is gone, and long after that.

I only realize I’ve been crying when Orion reaches out, swiping my tears away with the pad of his thumb. I look up at him, letting the pure love brimming in his gaze ground me.

Save me.

When I feel like I’m not going to break apart, I take my eyes back to the horizon, admiring the rising sun. And when I speak, my voice is no more than a whisper.

“Maggie and Vee always believed in a good, kind being… not the ones the Sanctum told us to pray to.” I blink at the brightening sky, a vise tightening around my heart. “They believed their souls would go someplace better after this life. They really thought that—believed it with all of their being. I think it was why they remained so positive… so good up until the very end.” Orion grabs my hand, and I cling to it like a lifeline as tears stream down my face. “I never believed in any of that, but still, I hope… I hope, wherever they are, that someone heard them coming. That they’re taking care of them.”

Orion looks at me, takes my chin in his hand, and pulls me back to earth. “If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that today, someone decided to listen. I know it like I know the forests of Moriton.” He takes a deep breath, sparing a glance toward the horizon before settling back on me. “They’re safe, little dove. No one can hurt them anymore.”

I can only nod, turning toward the vast openness as my tears dry—the weight in my soul lifting. I fear I will never be rid of it completely, but it’s lightened tenfold by the wonderful man at my side. And one day, I’ll be able to look back on these memories and smile, knowing I had them.

Just as I’m about to turn back, my gaze snags on two little birds dancing among the pink and orange sunrise, wings spread proud as they shrill their joy to the heavens. One tipped with silver, the other a vibrant red—both striking and beautiful and graceful and free.

I have to do a double take because I know for a fact that particular species shouldn’t be found at this altitude. It’s impossible. Inconceivable.

Yet they’re unmistakable.

Shrikes.

The End.

EPILOGUE

SERAPHINA

8 months later…

“Come on, everyone! Dinner’s on the table!”

I look toward Orion, matching shit-eating grins on our faces as we spring up from the sofa. The heavenly smells wafting in from the kitchen for the past few hours have nearly driven me mad, but now, it’s finally time—it’s time for Thanksgiving motherfucking dinner.

Sloane lets out a squeal, jumping off the back of the couch. She rushes over, wrapping her tiny hand in mine as she jumps about. “Dinners ready! Dinners ready!”

“So it is.” I give her a bright smile, then turn my gaze toward the little black-haired boy still sitting on the sofa. “You coming, Hadrian?”

Bright silver eyes blink at me and Sloane, and a flush creeps up his neck as he takes in the bright smile on the little girl's face. Hadrian is Kain and Lillith’s son, and he’s a few months older than Sloane—and also, I’m fairly certain, in love with her. But he’s only nine, so he doesn’t know quite what to do with the spunky little hellion. I’ve been trying to push the two of them together, but try as I might, Sloane keeps overpowering the poor boy.

“Come on, Hadrian!” She turns to him with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Get up! You’re gonna make my mom mad!”

At her order, the little boy jumps from the couch, silent as he creeps over to Sloane’s side. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she grabs his hand as well and pulls us both toward the kitchen. Orion chuckles behind us, following at our heels as we all make our way to the table.

“Ah! There you are!” Hadrian’s mother, Lillith, gives us a big smile. Lillith is easily one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen, with her bright blue eyes and shocking black hair. She has a timeless sort of beauty about her, and her sweet little face has only seems to grow more attractive as she ages.

Lillith pushes her hair behind her ear and turns to grab the tall stack of plates lying on the counter. She steps toward us, her arms straining with the weight of the porcelain. “Hadrian, Sloane, I need you to set the table, please.”

“I thought dinner was ready!” Sloane drops my hand with a pout, but it doesn’t escape me how she keeps Hadrian’s clenched tightly in her. Maybe there is hope for them…

Lillith’s laugh tinkles across the room. “Don’t worry, I’m just heating up the gravy. By the time you put those plates out, it’ll be ready to be served!”

Sloane lets out a sigh, finally dropping Hadrian’s hand to grab the plates Lillith holds out. Just before she can grab them, Hadrian’s face scrunches in a frown, and he nudges Sloane with his shoulder, pushing her out of the way so he can grab the plates.

Once the stack is in his arms, he turns and gives her a gap-toothed grin. “Let me. You’re too pretty to carry things.”

Lillith covers her mouth to hold in her laugh as Sloane scrunches up her nose, trying to seem unimpressed despite the bright red of her cheeks. “I’m strong! I can do it!”

She reaches for the plates, but Hadrian jumps back out of the way, shaking his head. “No. I’ll carry them.”

Sloane bares her teeth, looking like she’s ready to take a swing when Brett swoops into the room. “And what do we have here? Sloane, you should thank Hadrian for being so courteous! Not all young men are that kind.”

Hadrian blushes, dropping his eyes and looking anywhere but at Sloane. “It—it’s no big deal…”

Sloane stamps her foot. “He won’t let me carry the plates! He thinks I’m too weak to do it!”

Hadrian starts to shake his head, eyes wide with mortification, but luckily, Brett steps in. She crouches by Sloane, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He doesn’t think you’re too weak, sweetheart. I’m sure Hadrian knows you can carry them, but he wants to help you anyway, because he’s your friend. Isn’t that right, Hadrian?”

The little boy nods, relief flashing in his silver eyes. “Yes! I just wanted to help you Sloane! Because… because…” His brows furrow. “Because I just do!”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile. “I think that’s as good a reason as any.”

Sloane jerks her eyes to mine, lips pressed together in an angry little pout. Her eyes seem to scream whose side are you on, lady?

Before she can say anything, Brett presses her hand against Sloane’s back, pushing her toward the dining room. “Go on, sweetie. Go help Hadrian set out the plates.”

Hadrian gives us all a big grin, waiting for Sloane to step to his side before he turns for the dining room. They devolve into hushed whispers, and I can only presume they’re figuring out the best way to split up the work.

Lillith lets out a big sigh, her eyes shining with emotion as she stares after the two retreating kids. “They’re just too damn cute together.”

“I know it.” Brett nudges Lillith with her shoulder. The two women give each other matching grins, a motherly secret shared between them. “It’ll only be a matter of time, you know.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Lillith tilts her eyes to the ceiling. “Poor Hadrian is wrapped around her little finger.”

“To be fair,” Orion pipes up. “I think we’re all wrapped around Sloane’s finger.”

The four of us fall into laughter, matching grins spread around our little circle.

“Well… shall we get the food on the table?” Brett asks.

Lillith nods. “Kain and Ghost should be coming in with the turkey any minute now.”

Brett chuckles. “I still don’t see why it took two whole grown men to fry a turkey.”

“One to work, one to observe,” I say, shrugging with a cheeky smile. “Either that, or they didn’t want to get smacked any more today.”

“If they would stop sticking their big ol fingers in the mashed potatoes, maybe they wouldn’t get hit!” Brett throws her hands up in exasperation. “Animals, I say. Animals.”

We all devolve into laughter again as we move into the kitchen, pulling the sides from the oven and finishing up the last touches. We each grab a dish and move into the dining room, finding all the plates spread neatly around the table. Sloane and Hadrian are sat next to each other, their heads bent low and giggles flowing as they whisper secrets to each other. Noticing our arrival, the pair jump apart, sheepish grins spread across their faces.

“Glad to see you two finally getting along.” Ghost steps into the room, a bright white smile spreading his lips as he looks toward his daughter and Hadrian. “Everyone ready to feast?”

“I am! I am!” Sloane raises her hand high in the air, giving her father a wide, gap-toothed grin. “I want the first piece of turkey!”

Hadrian raises his hand, shooting Sloane a loving glance out of the corner of his eye. “Sloane gets the first piece! She called it!”

Ghost chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he steps up to the table, making way for Kain to drag in the turkey. The sight of the hulking man in a pink, flowery apron shouldn’t be as funny as it is—yet, the sight has me biting down on my lip to hold in my laugh.

“I checked it three times. No salmonella.” Kain places the bird proudly onto the table.

“That’s a lie. He checked it at least thirty times.” Ghost rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the amused smile on his face. “The man is obsessed.”

“I don’t fuck around with my family’s safety.” Kain glowers at Ghost, his fist clenching at his side. “Salmonella is a major threat to their health.”

“Okay, big guy. Whatever you say.” Ghost pats him on the shoulder. “Enough talking—let’s eat!”

We all take out seats around the table, Orion plopping down next to me and scooting his chair as close as possible. He rests his palm over my thigh, his expression the picture of serenity as he gazes into my eyes.

The background noise fades until there’s just me and him. Until it’s just me, and the man who worships me. The man who saved me—who loved me, when I couldn’t even love myself.

“Oh, wait, I almost forgot!” Ghost pipes up, drawing me and Orion from our trance. “We don’t have the animals here!”

Sloane squeals, grabbing Hadrian’s hand and pulling him from his seat as she rushes from the room. When she returns, there’s a petting zoo at her heels. Sviato and Savyne lead the pack, their bright yellow eyes trained on the steaming turkey as Rupert—Ghost’s Great Pyrenees—lets out an excited woof. Venom, the cat with tiny legs and a massive heart, follows at Rupert's heels, his shocking black fur standing out like a beacon against Rupert’s fluffy white coat. To top it off, Orion’s crow Bacchus and Lillith’s pigeon Herb fly into the room, their wings beating a flurry of air across the table as they perch on the back of one of the chairs. The only ones who aren’t here are the gators—for obvious reasons—but they’re enjoying their very own Thanksgiving dinner in their lake outside Orion’s cabin.

The animals settle into place as Sloane and Hadrian take their seats, a hush falling across the room. I stare at each one of them—the animals, too—and for once, I don’t feel so alone. For once, I feel like I belong somewhere.

I never thought I would have a family. Yet, when I look around at all the smiling faces at the table, it feels like home. It feels like safety. It feels like love.

Orion squeezes my hand, and that hole in my heart closes over.

This time, for good.

EXTRA EPILOGUE

ORION

4 months later…

I take a deep breath, the air stale and reeking of leather behind my plague mask. My eyes gleam red in the dark, illuminating my path through the woods and allowing me to see through the worst of the shadows. Which is good, because my little dove has gotten much better at hiding from me.

A twig snaps nearby, and my steps come to a halt. I tilt my head, trying to listen past the violent roar of blood in my ears. Close. She’s close.

I purse my lips, allowing an eerie whistling tone to fill the air.

In the night, little doves take flight,

Silver wings soft as fading light.

Once they trilled a gentle song,

But in the dark, their calls feel wrong.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,

For the doves have found their rightful home⁠—

Another snap. A smile spread across my face. I stalk toward the direction of that sound, picking up the tune where I left off.

In the night, little doves take flight,

Silver wings shining in moonlight

Once they trilled a gentle song,

Now a warning as shadows grow long.

‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,

For the devil has taken his rightful throne.

I stop in front of a bush, the shining leaves glowing red with the light of my eyes. A menacing chuckle rumbles in my chest, and I take a deep inhale, focusing on anything other than the musky scent of leather. And surely—but faintly—there it is.

I can smell her.

I take another step toward the bush, my hand sliding to the dagger at my hip as I hum the last verse.

Little doves with wings of ghostly gray,

They sit from their perch—watch the living fade away.

Wide-eyed lovers, when the doves begin to sigh,

It’s time to say your last goodbye.

The tune comes to a halt—only for my deep, rumbling voice to fill the air. And I only say one word.

“Run.”

The bush vibrates violently as Seraphina throws herself from her hiding spot, a high-pitched squeal filling the night air as she takes off into the mouth of the forest. My veins hum with electricity as I take off after her, my blood pumping fast and hot and straight to my cock.

A loud snap rigs out, followed by a surprised grunt, and I know Seraphina has run straight into my trip wire. I’ve been herding her toward this particular spot all night, hoping that she’d fall prey to my trap. And now she has.

Now, she’s mine.

I crash through the brush, my smile widening as I take in Seraphina’s body spread along the ground. Her movements are feverish as she tries to untangle herself from the fishing line, but she freezes as a stick crunches under my foot. Her golden eyes shine under the light of the moon, peeking out through the shadows like two stunning beacons of light. A light I’m dying to snuff out.

I take another deep breath, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “I can fucking smell you from here, little dove. Dripping, desperate for my cock.”

I shoot forward, crawling on top of her and pinning her arms to the dirt. Her lip curls back in a snarl as she fights against me, though all it does is cover her skin with thick clumps of sand. I lean down, nuzzling the side of my mask against her face as I whisper into her ear. “Why is it you only get this wet when you’re being chased? Hmm?”

I cross her wrists above her head, pinning her with one hand as the over moves to cover her throat. I apply gentle pressure that increases by the second, my cock throbbing at the rasping breath she tries to take. “Could it be because you’re sick? Because you’re deranged, just like me?” I take a deep breath, inhaling her fear like a drug. “Or is it because you’re still that dirty little slut I found a year ago? The one who craves violence, craves pain?” I release her throat, smirking as she takes in a gasping breath. “The one who just wants to be chased and fucked by a stranger in a mask?”

Seraphina’s eyes go wide as I reach down, ripping her shorts away with one clean movement. I pull my cock from my pants, positioning the head at her entrance as her muscles spasm into the dirt.

“Do what you were made to do, Seraphina. Take my fucking cock.”

I thrust forward, slamming my cock all the way inside her dripping cunt. She arches back with a scream of pleasure as I take her, as I ravage her body and make every part of her mine. I lean down to her breast, taking her nipple into my mouth and biting down hard enough to draw blood.

She moans and gasps as I suck her, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as that heady metallic taste coats my mouth. My vision clouds, my blood boils, and all I want, all I need, is to come deep inside her perfect pussy.

“Orion!” she moans, eyes rolling as her pussy clenches my cock. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, I’m… I’m going to…”

I toss my head back as she comes, losing all control of my body as I slam my cock in and out, over and over and over. Her body trembles as I spill my seed inside her, her walls collapsing and holding me inside her until she gets every last drop.

“Greedy girl.” I drop my forehead onto hers as my cock throbs with the last spurts of my release. “Good. Fucking. Girl.”

Seraphina closes her eyes, letting me wrap my arms around her and pull her from the dirt. I rise to a stand, holding her to my chest like she’s something fragile as I yank off my mask.

“I love you, my little dove.” I press my lips to her kissable forehead, a satisfied hum rumbling in my chest. “I love you, and I’ll never get fucking tired of chasing you. Of catching you.”

Seraphina laughs—a good laugh—one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard. She looks up at me, and the love swimming in her gaze is enough to cause my heart to burst. And when she speaks, I never want her to stop.

“I love you, Orion Adair.” She reaches a hand up, cupping my face with her gentle touch. “And I am yours. To chase, to catch, to love. All of it. Just yours. For now, forever… for always.”

As I press my lips to hers, I know that no sweeter phrase has ever been uttered. But more than that, I realize:

I’ve finally broken Seraphina.

And my, how pretty her pieces look with mine.

AFTERWORD

Well… that’s the end. It only took a year, but we’ve reached the end of the Dark Triad series.

OR HAVE WE?! (Hadrian and Sloane seemed pretty cute… perhaps there will be a next gen series sometime soon) *laughs in sleep depravation*

ANYWAYS…

It’s been a wild journey, and I could not have done it without you, dear reader. There’s been many laughs, tears, and sleepless nights, and without you, there would be no one to give these characters life. For that, and a million other reasons, I thank you. For your support and love of these characters so close to my heart, you will always have my gratitude <3.

*Kain, Ghost, and Orion tip their masked faces in one last spooky goodbye*

And now, I must be off. I hope you’ve enjoyed this series and all the twisted characters within (because there are many, many more to come).

Xoxo,

Mindy Paige

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are so, so many people to thank for this book and series. Those who have read, supported, and loved the characters and words within these books. Those who have taken time out of their day to send me a kind word, or to offer encouragement when motivation was nowhere to be found. Those who have uplifted me, who have shown me enough kindness and love to last me several lifetimes over.

First, thank you to Mitchell, who keeps my feet on the ground and heart in the clouds. Whose constant love and devotion allows me to write the kind of love you only read about in books (and who will always remind me to add *one more* spicy scene lolol)

Thank you to my Alpha readers, Jackie, Holly, and Megan, who read the books in their rawest form <3 This series would not be what it is without your feedback. You kept me sane, you kept me laughing, and you kept me writing. More than anything, you showed me all the wonderful parts of the story<3

Thank you to my Beta readers, Erin, Holly, Jazmyn, Brenda, Tammie and Jill. You kept me straight and bedazzled the books with your pretty red pens. Your reactions kept me going on sleepless nights, and I’ve never smiled harder at messages in my entire life.

Thank you to my editor Jenny, who has a remarkable talent of turning a rough slab of manuscript into a pretty, pretty novel <3

Thank you to Shauna and Becca of The Author Agency, who are always so kind and take great care to make sure my releases are special <3

And last, but most importantly…

Thank you, dear reader. Thank you for your time. Thank you for your support. Thank you for being here.

For being you.

For reading.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mindy Paige was born and raised in the jungles of Florida. She decided to pursue her lifelong dream of being an author after a grueling bachelor’s degree in botany.

From contemporary to dark romance, she loves writing spicy, fast-paced stories, and has a goal to write the most unhinged MMC’s you can’t help but love.

If not writing or reading, Mindy can usually be found playing with her dogs, tending to her plants, watching trashy reality TV with her boyfriend, or fighting off alligators.

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ALSO BY MINDY PAIGE

Dark Triad Series

The Devil’s Vice - Book 1

The Phantom’s Vice - Book 2

The Reaper’s Vice - Book 3

The Vixen’s Vice - Standalone Novella

Lust & Love Series

Time & Tide - Book 1

Broken & Bound - Book 2

Salt & Sunshine - Book 3