Chapter 91 Seraphine
I didn’t hesitate the second time.
I should have.
But the woman in front of me was watching with that same careful, aching hope the others wore—hands clenched tight in her lap like hope itself might vanish if she loosened her grip on it.
I stepped forward and placed my fingers at the base of her throat.
Warmth bloomed.
Steady. Controlled.
No pain. No resistance.
Her breath hitched once—and then she sagged in relief, a soft glow pulsing beneath my hand before sinking into her chest like it had always belonged there.
I pulled back, heart pounding.
“That one was easy,” Amara murmured behind me.
My dragon stirred immediately—alert, wary.
Don’t get comfortable, she warned. That’s how you overreach.
“I know,” I whispered back.
I did.
And I still moved to the third woman.
She was older than the others—late thirties, maybe early forties. Her eyes were sharp despite the exhaustion, tracking every movement like she’d been waiting her whole life for something to finally make sense.
“You don’t have to,” I told her quietly.
She nodded once. “I want to.”
That was enough.
I reached out.
The moment my fingers touched her—
Agony ripped through me.
Not sharp. Not clean.
It was like my veins turned to molten metal, fire screaming through my bones from the inside out. My vision white-flashed. The air punched out of my lungs, and I screamed before I could stop myself.
My knees buckled.
I warned you, my dragon said sharply, her voice strained. You crossed your threshold.
Hands were on me instantly.
Dante.
I felt him before I saw him—his fire surged up and around me, not wild, not possessive, but controlled, wrapping me like a living shield. Heat chased the pain back just enough to keep me conscious.
“Sit,” he ordered, voice low and steady as he guided me down. “Right now.”
I didn’t argue. I couldn’t.
The pain dulled—not gone, but manageable—like embers instead of an inferno. I wheezed, chest heaving, vision swimming as Dante knelt in front of me, his fire carefully regulating itself around mine.
“I’ve got you,” he said. “Don’t fight it. Let me carry some of it.”
I clutched his sleeve, fingers shaking. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he shot back. “For saving lives?”
Behind us, someone gasped.
I twisted weakly to look.
The woman I’d just touched was glowing.
Not red.
Not black.
Green.
Soft at first—then brighter, like sunlight filtered through leaves after a storm. The air around her crackled faintly, pressure building and releasing in rhythmic waves.
Lucian inhaled sharply. “Storm.”
Thane stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Valin’s district.”
The woman stared at her hands, trembling. “I—I can feel the air,” she whispered. “Like it’s listening.”
“You’re okay,” Lucian said quickly, already moving to her. “You’re safe.”
I slumped back against the wall, exhausted beyond words.
And that’s when Thane moved.
Not toward the women.
Toward me.
“You can do more,” he said sharply, slicing through the fragile calm. “I felt it. That second awakening barely cost you anything.”
My head snapped up. “That’s not true.”
“You’re lying,” he countered. “Or you don’t understand what you are yet. Either way, this is not the moment for hesitation.”
Unease rippled through the room.
I pushed myself upright, legs trembling. “They get to choose.”
Thane’s eyes darkened. “Choice is a luxury extinction doesn’t afford.”
Something inside me snapped.
Before I could speak, my dragon did.
Oh, absolutely not.
Her voice tore through me—hot, sharp, furious.
You will not turn her into a tool.
Heat surged in my chest, answering her anger.
“She’s done enough,” Dante growled, stepping closer, fire flaring low and dangerous. “You push her again and—”
Thane didn’t even look at him.
“Another one,” Thane said to me. “Now.”
My vision swam. Pain still burned under my skin, deep and lingering.
“I said no,” I snapped.
My dragon coiled tight.
He wants obedience, she snarled. Not balance. Not survival. Control.
“She can’t,” Amara said, moving to my side. “Look at her.”
“She can,” Thane replied coolly. “And she must.”
My dragon surged forward—not violent, but present. Heavy. Pressing.
Listen carefully, King of Death, she said, her voice echoing through me. You do not get to force evolution through her hands.
Thane froze.
Not afraid.
Surprised.
“You speak,” he murmured.
I have always spoken, she replied coldly. You simply never listened.
Heat flared behind my ribs.
“She will not touch another soul unless they ask,” my dragon continued. And even then, only while she has strength. You will not break her to save your numbers.
Thane’s jaw tightened. “…Fine,” he said at last. “But you’re wasting time.”
“No,” I said hoarsely. “I’m saving lives.”
I turned back to the women, forcing my shaking hands to still.
“Anyone who wants to try,” I said clearly. “Raise your hand.”
No pressure.
No command.
A pause.
One hand lifted.
Then another.
Thane said nothing—but his eyes never left me.
I stepped forward again—on my terms.
Lucian moved fast after that.
“Change of course,” he announced. “Everyone gets unchained. Anyone who doesn’t want to continue leaves—now.”
Thane hesitated, then nodded. “Probably for the best.”
Chains were unlocked. Restraints cut away.
“You’re safe,” Dante kept saying.
“No one’s touching you again,” Lucian promised.
Some women left immediately, fear outweighing curiosity.
Others stayed.
Lucian pulled out a checkbook, startling everyone.
“If you leave,” he said calmly, writing, “this helps you disappear. Lay low. Say nothing.”
Checks exchanged hands.
Only three women stayed who I hadn’t been able to unlock—too weak, my dragon warned.
I pushed myself upright again.
“Don’t,” Dante said softly.
“I have to,” I muttered.
Black crept into my vision.
The room tilted.
Amara screamed my name.
Strong arms caught me mid-collapse, fire flaring instinctively around me. Heat flared instinctively around me, familiar, grounding.
I buried my face against his chest, dizzy and fading.
Please be Dante, I thought hazily. Please be—
“Easy,” he murmured, breath warm against my hair. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
Relief hit me so hard it almost hurt.
Darkness closed in anyway.
The last thing I felt was fire—not consuming, not demanding.
Protective.