Chapter 6 Seraphine
It hadn’t taken long for her to find me.
The woman from the crime scene photos—the one who kept showing up beside every missing girl—found me.
I was walking through the mall, pretending to browse handbags while secretly scanning every reflection and camera angle for someone who might be watching me. I’d dressed carefully for the occasion: one of Amara’s hand-picked outfits that made me look sharper and more confident than I felt. A deep emerald blouse tucked into a black leather pencil skirt, paired with boots that said I could kick your ass and then buy you lunch.
And then she appeared.
A flash of black hair and red lips. Before I could even think, she looped her arm through mine like we’d known each other forever.
“Seraphine, right?” she said brightly. “I’m Onyx. We’re gonna be best friends.”
I blinked. “I—wait, what?”
Her smile widened, dazzling and unnerving all at once. “You looked like you needed company. Come on. You’re shopping alone, and that’s just tragic.”
I stared at her, utterly thrown. “Do I—know you?”
“Not yet,” she said breezily. “But you will. Trust me, I’m great at picking friends.”
And just like that, she tugged me toward a boutique before I could think of an excuse to say no.
She was magnetic. Effortlessly charming, with the kind of energy that bulldozed through hesitation. I told myself I was just playing along—keeping her close so I could figure out who she was—but the truth was, she made it hard to say no.
We drifted through racks of clothes together, her picking out dresses like she already knew my size. “This one,” she said, holding up a fitted black jacket. “It says power. You want to look like someone people listen to.”
“That’s… weirdly specific,” I muttered, but took it anyway.
By the time we stopped for lunch, I felt like I’d been swept into someone else’s current. She ordered for both of us without asking, and the conversation flowed like she’d known me for years.
“So,” she asked casually, “what do you do for work, Seraphine?”
My brain scrambled for something believable. “Used to bartend. Back in college.”
Her dark eyes gleamed. “A woman after my own heart. You’ve got that energy—like you’ve seen the world at 2 a.m. and survived it.”
I laughed softly. “Something like that.”
We swapped bar stories and bad-customer horror tales until she leaned forward, voice dropping to something silkier.
“You should come out with me tonight. Blow off some steam. I know a place that’ll change your life.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, feigning nonchalance. “What place?”
Her lips curved. “It’s called Obsidian Veil.”
My pulse stumbled. “Never heard of it.”
“That’s the point,” she said, laughing lightly. “You won’t find it online. No website, no socials. It’s invite-only.”
I sipped my drink to hide my curiosity. “Then how’d you find it?”
“I know the owner,” she said smoothly. “We’re… not exactly on the best terms, but it’s the best club in the city. And I don’t stray far from what’s best.”
“Sounds intense.”
“Everything worth doing is,” she said, smiling like she’d just told me a secret. “Come tonight. I’ll take care of you.”
Every instinct I had screamed don’t, but I forced a smile. “Sure. Why not?”
\---
The club was a cathedral of sin.
Obsidian Veil pulsed with light and music the way a heart pulses with blood—dark, rhythmic, alive.
Inside, the crowd shimmered in leather and lace. Confidence hung in the air like perfume. And to my surprise, I didn’t stand out. There were women like me here—curvy, bold, unashamed. For once, I wasn’t the odd one out.
Onyx found me near the entrance, glowing under the gold lights. “You made it,” she said, looping her arm through mine again.
“Of course,” I said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She led me to the bar, the hum of conversation thick as smoke. The bartender slid two drinks our way before we even ordered.
“How do they know what we want?” I asked.
Onyx smirked. “I told you. I have my ways.”
I sipped the whiskey sour, the familiar burn grounding me. “So tell me—how do you get into a place like this? You can’t search it online.”
She laughed, the sound smooth and musical. “You really are curious, aren’t you? Fine. Like I said—I know the owner. He’s… complicated. We’re not exactly on speaking terms, but I go where I please.”
“That sounds… dangerous.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Danger keeps life interesting.”
I smiled faintly. “You’re something else, Onyx.”
She lifted her glass. “And you, Seraphine, have no idea how much you belong here.”
Before I could ask what she meant, the air shifted.
The crowd parted subtly, like the tide pulling back before a storm. Three men stepped through the haze of light, and everything in me froze.
They radiated power—real, palpable, electric. The kind that made your instincts sit up and pay attention.
One of them, taller than the rest, with dark hair and eyes like molten gold, stopped when he saw me.
“Enjoying the club?” he asked, voice smooth but edged like a blade.
I swallowed hard. “Never been here before. But so far… I’m impressed.”
He studied me—no, devoured me with his gaze—like he was trying to remember something he’d never known.
Before I could breathe again, one of the others—silver-eyed, storm-voiced—turned to Onyx. “You need to leave. Now.”
Her smile vanished. “I—”
“Now,” he said again.
Onyx bowed her head slightly and slipped into the crowd without another word, vanishing as easily as smoke.
I blinked. “Okay, what the hell was that about?”
The man with the golden eyes—the one who hadn’t stopped staring—set his drink down. “That woman doesn’t belong here.”
My heart kicked. “And I suppose I don’t either?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just watched me with that unsettling focus.
My insecurities flared like an old wound. “Right,” I said, voice sharp. “Because I don’t fit your perfect fantasy? What’s the problem—too much woman for your precious club?”
His jaw tensed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh please,” I said. “Let me guess—you like your girls carved out of smoke and self-loathing? Sorry, I take up space. Some of us have the nerve to exist in three dimensions.”
He looked stunned—then intrigued.
I leaned in, smirking. “Don’t worry, though. I wouldn’t expect a man like you to handle a woman like me anyway.”
Before he could respond, I downed the rest of my drink, tossed a fifty on the bar, and turned away.
“If you ever decide you want a real woman in your life,” I said over my shoulder, “ look me up.”
And with that, I walked out—heart pounding, head spinning, and completely unaware that the man I’d just told off was already burning the world behind his eyes trying to figure out who the hell I was.