Chapter 9 Dante
The city still hadn’t shaken off its morning haze. From where I sat—parked across the narrow street in a black Maserati that looked like every other expensive ghost in this neighborhood—I could see her window.
Seraphine Vale.
She moved around her apartment with restless energy, a streak of cream sweater against the muted glass. I wasn’t close enough to see her face clearly, but I didn’t need to. The flash of red hair was enough.
When she stepped outside with both bouquets in her arms, I smiled.She hesitated for only a heartbeat before walking straight to the dumpster and tossing them in. The sound of shattering glass reached me even through the closed window of the car.
I chuckled under my breath. “Defiant little thing.”
From the passenger seat, Lucian Drayke looked up from the tablet balanced on his knee. “I told you she wouldn’t keep them.”
“I didn’t send them for her to keep,” I murmured. “I sent them to see what she’d do.”
Lucian gave me a crooked grin. “And now you know. She’s not the type to play the pretty captive.”
“She’s not a captive.” I let the words roll slowly. “Not yet.”
He barked a laugh. “You sound like you almost admire her.”
“I don’t admire humans.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Lucian muttered, tapping at the tablet again. The glow from the screen painted his sharp features in ghostly light. “Want to hear what else I dug up about your little journalist?”
I said nothing, so he took that as a yes.
He scrolled down, eyes scanning the data. “Seraphine Vale, twenty-seven. Freelance journalist, works for smaller outlets. Born and raised in western Washington—grew up in a rural town called Northbend Ridge. Population three thousand, one stoplight, the kind of place where everyone knows your business before breakfast.”
I made a noise in the back of my throat. “Sounds charming.”
“Oh, it gets better.” Lucian smirked.
“She’s got one sibling, half brother—Detective Stephen Vale, currently with Organized Crime. Seems like the boy made it out of small-town hell and straight into badge heaven.”
I turned my head slightly. “And the rest of the family?”
Lucian’s smirk faded. “That’s where things start getting messy.”
He flicked to another file—grainy photos, old reports, and charred wreckage. “Their family home burned down when she was seventeen. Electrical fire, according to the report, but the local fire chief at the time made a note about ‘accelerant residue present.’ It was scrubbed from the official record later.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So, arson.”
“Or someone covering up arson,” Lucian replied. “Either way, it doesn’t smell like an accident.”
“What about casualties?”
He sighed. “The mother, Marjorie Vale, didn’t make it out. Cause of death—smoke inhalation. Seraphine and her brother were both treated for mild burns and smoke exposure. They spent a few months living with an aunt before going their separate ways.”
“And the father?” I asked.
Lucian tapped the screen, bringing up a blank page with a single line of text across the top: Federal Custody—Restricted Access.
“He’s alive,” Lucian said. “But locked away in a federal facility in Montana. Records sealed under FBI encryption.”
I leaned back in my seat, the leather creaking. “Sealed? For what reason?”
“That’s the problem. It doesn’t say. The case ID’s been buried—filed under an unrelated alias. You can’t even cross-reference it without tripping Bureau alarms.”
My fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “How long will it take to open it?”
Lucian tilted his head. “Depends on how loudly you want the FBI to notice us poking around their systems.”
I shot him a look.
He chuckled. “Fine. Give me a few days. I’ll go in quiet.”
“Do it,” I said. “I want to know why he’s there. Something doesn’t add up.”
Lucian gave a low whistle. “You think the daddy’s sins run deep?”
“I think nobody ends up under federal lock and key for jaywalking,” I said.
“And if his record’s that protected, he’s either someone’s asset or someone’s problem.”
Lucian’s grin returned. “You really are interested in this girl. Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”
“I don’t get soft.”
He laughed. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve spent the last thirty minutes watching her throw out flowers like a man nursing a bruised ego.”
I shot him a sideways glare. “Keep talking, and you’ll be breathing smoke instead of air.”
Lucian raised both hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you wanted her attention, you got it. You might not like what she does with it, though.”
“She can do whatever she wants,” I said quietly. “For now.”
Lucian leaned back, arms folded. “So what’s the plan, Fire King? You going to let her walk away after she threw your little love notes in the trash?”
“She can run,” I murmured. “But she won’t get far. I just want to know why she was with Kael’s consort. Renee doesn’t make social calls without a reason.”
Lucian’s smirk vanished. “You think Kael sent her?”
“I think Kael’s playing a game,” I said. “And he used the wrong pawn.”
Lucian looked thoughtful. “If you’re right, that means Kael’s breaking the treaty. Again.”
I gave a humorless smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He huffed a laugh. “What is it about you two? You’ve been snarling at each other for decades. It’s like watching a toxic marriage that won’t die.”
“He’s reckless,” I said. “He doesn’t understand restraint.”
Lucian laughed. “Says the man who once burned down a casino because the dealer was cheating.”
“That was principle.”
“That was over poker chips.”
I ignored him. “Kael’s hiding something. I can feel it.”
Lucian’s grin faded at my tone. “And you think the journalist is part of it?”
“She’s connected. I don’t know how yet, but she is.”
The tablet buzzed, interrupting us. A red light blinked at the top of the screen—an encrypted incoming call.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil.”
The name appeared in bold letters: KAEL DRAKOV.
I exhaled slowly, taking the device from him. “Well, that didn’t take long.”
Lucian’s lips quirked. “Try not to set him on fire this time.”
“No promises.”The line connected, filling the car with static and Kael’s smooth, dangerous voice.
> “Dante. We need to talk.”
I leaned back in my seat, voice low and even. “I couldn’t agree more.”
There was a pause—long enough to feel deliberate. Then Kael spoke again, his tone cold and edged with amusement.
> “Good. Then maybe you can explain something to me.”
“Depends what it is,” I said.
> “Why the hell,” Kael said slowly, “did you and your little lightning rod of a partner go sniffing around my consort?”