Chapter 55 Seraphine
I knocked softly before opening the door, even though I already knew she was inside.
Amara was curled on the edge of the bed like she didn’t quite trust it to hold her, arms wrapped around her middle, shoulders shaking. She looked up when she heard me, eyes red and glossy, mascara smudged beneath them.
“Oh,” she said weakly. “Hey.”
My chest tightened.
“Hey,” I replied, closing the door behind me. “I came to check on you.”
She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Figures. I storm off like a dramatic idiot and then immediately fall apart.”
I crossed the room and sat beside her, close enough to feel the cold radiating off her skin. Not metaphorical cold. Real cold—like she’d been standing outside in winter too long.
“What’s going on?” I asked gently.
She scrubbed at her face. “I don’t know. I hate this. I hate feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m drowning,” she snapped—and then immediately winced. “Sorry. I don’t mean at you. I just—everything feels too big. My feelings feel too loud. Too heavy. And Lucian just keeps telling me to breathe and ‘center myself’ like that fixes anything.”
I snorted despite myself. “Of course he does.”
She shot me a watery glare. “Do not defend him.”
“I wasn’t,” I said quickly. “Just… yeah. That tracks.”
She exhaled, shoulders slumping. “It started when I connected with him. Like—really connected. And he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t feel it the same way. He’s calm. Controlled. And I’m over here losing my damn mind.”
I tilted my head, studying her. “Okay, very important question.”
She groaned. “If you ask me if I’m pregnant—”
“Worse,” I said. “Are you on your period?”
She stared at me for a second.
Then barked out a laugh. “No! God. No. And that’s the problem—it’s not that. This isn’t hormonal. This is… elemental.”
Well. That was new.
“I feel like I’m going to burst,” she whispered. “Or spill. Or flood. And I don’t know how to stop it.”
I didn’t think. I just leaned in and wrapped my arms around her.
She stiffened for half a second before melting into me, forehead pressing against my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was overwhelmed and I took it out on you.”
She sniffed. “I was mean. And judgy. And projecting. I’m sorry too.”
We stayed like that for a moment—breathing, grounding.
Then—
WHAM.
Cold hit me like a truck.
I gasped as something drenched me from head to toe, my shirt instantly clinging to my skin, hair plastered to my face. Water dripped down my nose, my eyelashes, the hem of my shorts.
I stumbled back, sputtering. “What the—Amara!”
She froze, eyes wide, hands lifted like she’d just committed a crime.
“I—I didn’t mean to!” she said, then looked down at her hands, horrified. “Oh my god.”
Water pooled across the floor, spreading outward in a shallow wave.
We stared at each other.
Then she blinked.
And blinked again.
And then—
She started laughing.
Not polite laughter. Not nervous laughter.
Full-on, bent-over, snorting laughter.
I looked down at myself—soaked, dripping, hair ruined—and something inside me cracked.
I started laughing too.
“Are you kidding me?” I wheezed. “You literally dumped a bucket of water on me.”
“I didn’t even feel it happen!” she gasped. “It just—came out!”
I wiped water from my eyes. “You know what? Honestly? Worth it.”
She wiped her cheeks, still laughing. “I feel… better. Lighter.”
I glanced at the water spreading across the floor, already thinning, evaporating at the edges.
“Maybe that’s it,” I said slowly. “Maybe you needed to let it out.”
She tilted her head. “Like emotional pressure relief… but wetter.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Very scientific.”
She grinned, then sobered slightly. “I really am sorry, Sera. For yelling. For acting like I know better than you.”
I shook my head. “We’re both navigating supernatural nonsense while our lives implode. I think we’re allowed to be messy.”
“Clearly,” she said, gesturing at me.
I laughed again. “I’ll go change. But… thank you. For trusting me enough to fall apart.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks for not freaking out when I accidentally turned you into a drowned rat.”
“Hey,” I said, standing. “If this is what calming you down looks like, I’ll bring a raincoat next time.”
She snorted.
And for the first time since everything started unraveling, the room felt lighter.
Quieter.
Like the storm had passed—at least for now.
The laughter hadn’t even fully faded when the door swung open.
Dante and Lucian stepped in at the same time.
The shift in the air was immediate.
Not hostile—just sharp. Focused. Purpose snapping into place like armor being locked on.
Dante’s gaze swept the room in a single pass. The water on the floor. Me soaked. Amara damp but calmer.
His jaw tightened once—barely—but he didn’t comment on any of it.
“We’re leaving,” he said. Not loud. Not rushed. Absolute. “There’s an important meeting. You’re both coming.”
I blinked. “Leaving… where?”
Lucian crossed his arms by the door, eyes alert. “Somewhere neutral. Secure.”
Dante’s attention landed on me fully now. “Pack a bag. Light. And dress professional.”
That snapped me out of the moment.
“Professional?” I echoed. “For what meeting?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, I frowned and gestured at myself. “I didn’t exactly bring clothes with me. Or—anything, really.”
Dante didn’t miss a beat.
“There’s a closet in the hall,” he said, already turning away. “One for you. One for Amara. Everything you need is there.”
I stared at his back. “…You planned this?”
He paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder.
“I prepare,” he said simply.
Then he walked out.
Just like that.
No explanation. No reassurance. No Sera, it’s going to be okay.
The door closed behind him with a quiet, final click.
I stood there dripping onto the floor, staring at where he’d been.
“…Well,” Amara said slowly, breaking the silence. “That was ominous.”
I scrubbed water from my hair, irritation flaring. “He does this thing where he just—decides and doesn’t include me.”
Lucian hesitated by the door. “He’s not shutting you out to be cruel.”
I looked at him sharply. “Then what is it?”
Lucian met my eyes. “He’s scared. And when Dante is scared, he goes into control mode.”
That… didn’t help as much as Lucian probably thought it would.
He cleared his throat. “Get dressed. Both of you. We don’t have much time.”
Then he followed Dante, leaving us alone again.
Amara looked at me, eyebrows raised. “So. Closets full of mystery clothes. Very billionaire cult energy.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Come on. Let’s see what he thinks ‘professional’ looks like.”
As we stepped into the hall, I couldn’t shake the feeling settling in my gut.
Whatever this meeting was—
It wasn’t small.