Chapter 50

Damon POV

Her voice was steady, but I knew better.

I had heard her whisper in the bath, felt her body tremble when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.

She had lived through hell.

But she had walked out of it alive.

And now, the men responsible were still trying to claim her.

No.

That wasn’t going to fucking happen.

Marius exhaled sharply. "He’s the one taking the girls."

Seri nodded. "Yes."

Tyrone finally spoke, voice calm but ice-cold. "And you’ve been tracking him."

"Yes."

Another pause. Then Tyrone tipped his head to the side, studying her like she was a problem to solve.

"You said your husband made you a prisoner." His tone was careful, deliberate. "Not Genovese."

A flicker of something crossed her face. Something dark.

"He was my husband." Her voice was quiet. Lethal. "But he stopped being my husband long before Genovese was the one who made sure I never escaped."

Silence.

Thick, heavy, dangerous silence.

Tyrone exhaled through his nose. "And Sophia?"

Seri’s expression didn’t change. But I saw the shift in her stance, the barely perceptible tightening of her shoulders.

"She’s mine."

The words were absolute. Final. Unforgiving.

And god help the man who tried to take her away.

Because he wouldn’t survive it.

I moved.

She didn’t step back.

Seraphina stood her ground, arms crossed over her bare stomach, her scars laid out like a map of survival.

I traced my fingers along the ink covering her ribs, pressing into her skin, where intricate designs hid the jagged reminders of the past. I wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft—I needed her to feel this.

"You survived."

It wasn’t a question.

Her chin lifted slightly. "Of course I did."

Of course she did.

I ran my palm up her side, fingers grazing the edge of a particularly deep scar, just above the waistband of her sweatpants. A knife wound. Too clean to be from torture, too sharp to be accidental.

"Your first kill?" I murmured, voice low, rough.

A pause. Then, softly— "Yes."

Marius shifted beside me, but he didn’t speak. Neither did Tyrone. I think they were still in shock.

"Tell me."

She exhaled slowly, watching me. Her pupils were slightly dilated, but there was no fear in them. Just calculation. Caution. Control.

But I was already inside her head.

And I wasn’t leaving until I had everything.

"I killed an Irishman." Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "A faction leader. He was supposed to sell me back to my ex-husband."

My fingers tightened on her waist.

"Supposed to?"

Her lips curled, just slightly. "He didn’t get the chance."

She lifted her hand, dragging her fingers across the scar I had just touched.

"I let him get close. Let him think I was too broken to fight. And when he grabbed my hair—" Her breath hitched, just slightly, before she controlled it. "—I drove his own blade into his gut and twisted."

Marius exhaled, slow and measured.

Tyrone didn’t react at all.

I leaned in, just enough to crowd her, to remind her that she wasn’t alone in this. "And his men?"

"I gave them a choice."

A flicker of something crossed her face. Not pride, not regret—just cold memory.

"They could follow me or die."

My fingers flexed against her skin.

Jesus.

She had walked into a den of men sent to break her—and walked out their leader.

I let out a slow breath, tilting my head. "And they followed?"

She gave me a small, sharp smile. "They made the right decision."

I swore under my breath.

Beside me, Marius let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. Just understanding. Respect. Maybe even admiration.

"And Genovese?" I pressed, my other hand bracing against the counter behind her, fully trapping her in.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. Not in fear—in restraint.

"He’s not selling random girls." Her voice was quieter now, more measured. "He’s targeting the daughters of the Big 5…"

Silence.

Dead, suffocating silence.

Tyrone’s expression didn’t shift, but I could feel the cold fury rolling off of him.

Marius let out a slow exhale. "Why?"

Seri’s gaze darkened. "Because if you control the women of the Big 5… you control the next generation."

I went completely still.

Marius’s jaw clenched. "He’s using them as leverage."

Seri nodded.

"He’s not just trafficking them." Her voice was quiet, lethal. "He’s making them into wives. Into bargaining chips. He’s putting them in the hands of men who will use them to gain power over the five families."

Fucking Christ.

I exhaled through my nose, my grip on her waist tightening instinctively.

Because I already knew what she wasn’t saying.

Genovese had planned to do the same thing to her.

And he had succeeded.

For a time.

But she had escaped.

And now, she was making damn sure no one else would go through what she did.

I dragged my hand up her side again, this time deliberate, this time grounding.

"You’re not alone anymore, angel."

Seri tilted her head slightly, searching my expression, waiting for the catch, the condition, the lie.

She didn’t find one.

And for the first time since I met her—she looked unsure of what to do with that.

A sharp breath. The flicker of something breaking, unraveling.

Damon shifted, closing the last inch between them, and then—

"Say it."

Her back hit the counter as he caged her in, his hands bracing on either side of her hips.

Marius and Tyrone moved too, silent and sure, coming in on either side of Damon, their gazes pinning her in place.

Tyrone’s fingers brushed her arm first, tracing the scar she had just revealed, mapping it like he had the right. "No more secrets," he murmured, his voice smooth, commanding. "If you’re ours, we deserve the truth."

If.

There was no if anymore.

"I am yours," she whispered.

Damon growled lowly, his hands sliding to her waist, gripping, possessive. "Say it again."

Marius’ fingers ghosted over her throat, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his thumb. Tyrone traced higher, following the ridges of hidden scars, committing them to memory.

"I’m yours."

Marius’ grip tightened. Tyrone’s fingers flexed against her ribs. Damon’s thumb brushed over her bottom lip, his pupils blown wide with hunger.

"You don’t know what you’ve just done," Tyrone murmured, voice dark with promise.

Marius leaned in, lips just ghosting over her ear. "But you will."

Damon’s mouth crashed against hers, stealing the last breath she had.