Chapter 18 Dante
The email tab had been open for two hours.
I refreshed it again.
Nothing.
Not one message.
Not one attachment.
Not one scrap of information from the woman who had practically stared death in the face and called it a challenge.
“Is she toying with me?” I muttered.
The clock on my desk read 11:48 PM.
Seraphine had said she’d send the files tonight.
She wasn’t careless.
She wasn’t forgetful.
So what the hell was she doing?
I refreshed the page again.
Still nothing.
The longer the silence dragged, the more it scraped against something almost… primal inside me. Not anger. Not irritation.
Something sharper.
Something territorial.
Before the thought could escalate into something humiliating, a soft knock tapped against my office door.
Lucian stepped inside, a tablet under his arm, his expression pulled tight.
“You’re still awake,” he remarked.
I didn’t bother hiding the edge in my voice. “You have something?”
Lucian set the tablet down. “You’re not going to like it.”
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tensing. “Start talking.”
“The missing women Seraphine is investigating?” Lucian began. “They’re real. And they’re all still listed as missing.”
That much I expected.
But his face didn’t match the simplicity of the report.
“Then why hasn’t anyone touched the case?” I asked. “Why freeze something with this many victims?”
Lucian exhaled slowly.
“Two reasons,” he said. “First — none of the victims’ families reported them missing. Only bosses, coworkers, landlords. No loved ones. No parents. No partners. No one with political sway.”
That already made my stomach sink.
“And the second?” I pressed.
Lucian hesitated.
“Most of these women,” he said carefully, “have records. Jail time. Substance issues. Prostitution charges. Or histories the police consider... inconvenient.”
He looked up at me.
“The department doesn’t care.”
My blood went cold.
Human institutions were always the same — power dictated worth. Influence dictated who deserved protection. But something about this hit differently.
These women were being discarded. Forgotten.
And someone in my territory was using that to their advantage.
I pushed to my feet, pacing behind my desk. “And Seraphine is the only one looking into it.”
“Yes,” Lucian said. “And if you want my opinion? She’s already in deeper than she knows.”
I stopped.
“James,” I said.
The name had stuck with me — the way she tensed when she mentioned him. The grief buried under her anger. The rawness in her voice when she talked about being the only one left investigating.
“What about him?” I demanded.
Lucian’s expression tightened. “He’s dead. Officially reported about a week ago.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
He turned the tablet around and pulled up a photograph.
I froze.
My lungs stopped.
My body went still.
The corpse was sprawled across a cement floor, throat slashed deep enough to expose spine. His tongue had been severed — ripped out, not cut — long blood trails staining his shirt.
And carved into the center of his forehead—
My mark.
Not mine literally.
But a mark I recognized instantly.
A mark burned into the flesh of every enemy, traitor, or threat slain by a Shadow King.
A mark belonging to one dragon.
One clan.
One man.
“Kael,” I breathed.
“Exactly.” Lucian crossed his arms. “The killing mark is distinctive. Ancient. He didn’t even try to hide it.”
My hands curled into fists.
Rage simmered molten and lethal beneath my ribs — not the careless, human kind of rage.
No.
This was the fire of a dragon who recognized a threat to his dominion.
Kael killed James.
Kael silenced the last person who investigated.
Kael left his mark like a warning:
Stay away.
This is my territory.
My secret.
Lucian watched me carefully. “I assume you see the problem.”
“Oh, I see the problem,” I said, voice low and crackling at the edges. “Kael’s consort was in my club. Kael’s mark is on a dead journalist. And Kael is pretending he doesn’t know what the hell is happening in my territory.”
“Exactly.”
“And Seraphine,” I continued, “is now walking the same path James died on.”
Lucian didn’t deny it.
He didn’t need to.
I sank back into my chair, fingers steepled.
Seraphine hadn’t emailed the files yet.
She was alone.
She was digging.
And Kael had a history of eliminating anyone who got too close.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re one thought away from burning down the Shadow District.”
“I might be,” I murmured.
Lucian waited, giving me space to think — calculating, waiting for my command.
Finally, I stood.
“Find everything you can on Kael’s movements the last two months,” I ordered. “Find out why his consort keeps crossing borders. And find out why he marked a human.”
Lucian nodded. “On it.”
“And Lucian?”
1 New Message
My pulse kicked.
Finally.
I clicked it open instantly, anticipation tightening in my chest.
The subject line hit me first:
You Can Fuck All The Way Off
My eyebrows lifted.
Well.
Not what I expected.
The email opened with a single picture attachment.
I clicked it.
It was a close-up photo of the VIP card I’d had printed for her.
Front side elegant and perfect.
Back side…
VOID in big silver letters, shining like an accusation.
And the email itself?
Short. Brutal. All her.
Dante,
Thanks for the fake VIP card.
Very classy.
You can fuck off now.
And leave me alone.
—Seraphine
I stared at the screen for a long, stunned moment.
Then another.
Then—
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
A deep, genuine sound I hadn’t made in years.
Lucian looked up sharply. “You okay, or did Kael finally make you snap?”
I turned the laptop.
His face split into a grin. “Oh gods. She said that to you?”
“Oh, she did,” I murmured, leaning back in my chair.
Lucian tapped the screen lightly with a chuckle. “She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.”
Balls wasn’t the word.
Fire.
She had fire.
More than half the dragons I knew.
I reread the email, the photo of the VOID stamp taunting me like some sarcastic little challenge.
She wasn’t scared.
She wasn’t impressed.
She wasn’t waiting for me.
She wasn’t courting my attention.
She was pissed.
At me.
And the worst part?
It made something inside me… hum.
Lucian arched a brow. “You going to respect her wishes and leave her alone?”
I didn’t look at him as I closed the laptop slowly.
“No.”
“Of course not,” he said with a sigh.
“She’s angry,” I said. “But she still sent the email. She still showed me the card. She still wanted me to see it.”
“Or,” Lucian deadpanned, “she wanted you to choke on it.”
“Same thing,” I muttered.
Lucian snorted. “You’re deranged.”
“Probably.”
And it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that she wasn’t cutting herself off completely — not yet. She was mad, yes. But if she truly wanted me gone?
She wouldn’t have contacted me at all.
“She’s testing you,” Lucian said suddenly, as if reading my thoughts.
“No.” I shook my head. “She’s daring me.”
“And what are you going to do?” he asked.
“What I always do,” I said.
“Win.”