Chapter 27 Seraphine
Saturday morning sunlight spilled through the diner windows, warm and golden, like the universe was trying to convince me the world wasn’t full of sleazy bosses and dragon-eyed men with questionable moral compasses.
The smell of cinnamon, maple syrup, and fresh coffee drifted through the air. And for the first time in what felt like months, I actually… relaxed.
Amara sat across from me in our cozy corner booth, already halfway through her second mimosa. Her purple hair clip sparkled in the sunlight, and she was smiling — a big, bright, wicked smile that made me wonder how I had gotten lucky enough to meet her.
“Okay,” she said, swirling her drink in dramatic circles. “Best idea ever: breakfast mimosas. I feel like a goddess.”
“You look like one,” I said, cutting into my stuffed French toast. “And I’m pretty sure I’m in love with this cream cheese filling.”
Amara leaned forward on her elbows. “So, speaking of love…”
I groaned. “Here we go.”
“Oh, we’re not just going,” she said with a smirk. “We’re sprinting. Full speed. Headfirst. No brakes.”
I tried to hide behind my mimosa, but she snapped her fingers.
“Spill.”
“About what?”
Her eyes widened like I’d insulted her ancestors. “Uh, Dante Vescari showing up to your double date last night? The city’s most dangerous bachelor? That Dante?”
I stabbed my toast defensively. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, “it’s exactly like that.”
I opened my mouth to argue again — but she cut me off.
“And don’t even try the ‘I’m not his type’ line. I saw the way his eyes locked on you like you were the last dessert on earth. That man wants you.”
My face burned. “I haven’t even— I mean— I’m not— you know—”
Amara blinked. “Seraphine… are you a virgin?”
My fork froze halfway to my mouth.
The silence was deafening.
Then she gently set her drink down and whispered, “Honey.”
I braced myself for pity.
But instead, she clapped her hands once, eyes sparkling. “Dante’s gonna love that.”
I choked. “AMARA!”
“What?!” She laughed. “Girl, do you know what dominant men are like when they find out someone’s untouched? They lose their minds. It’ll drive him insane.”
“Okay, no,” I said, flustered. “No more talking about Dante going insane.”
“Why not? I think it’s cute.”
I dragged my hands down my face. “This is breakfast.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t discuss how your future mafia husband is obsessed with you.”
I nearly spit my mimosa across the table.
Future… husband?
Nope. Nope. We were not doing that.
I cleared my throat, desperate for a change of subject. “We should talk about something else.”
“We should, but we won’t.” She leaned in, fingertip tapping the table. “Because you have that look.”
“What look?”
“The look that says you’re holding onto something big. Spill it.” She motioned for the server. “And bring us two more mimosas! She’s confessing something!”
I rolled my eyes — but the truth pressed at my ribs.
So I told her.
Not everything.
But enough.
“I’m working on a missing women’s case,” I began. “Twelve women. All vanished after entering a club.”
Amara sobered immediately, mimosa halfway to her lips. “Twelve?”
“Yeah.”
“And… that’s why you went into Obsidian Veil?”
I nodded. “Onyx — the girl I was with — she’s in every last photo. Different wigs, different clothes, but it’s her.”
Amara stiffened. “That’s…”
“I know.”
“So you went into a literal underground fetish club alone,” she said slowly, “for a job that your boss didn’t even want you to survive.”
“Pretty much,” I admitted, sipping my drink.
Amara exhaled. “Seraphine… honey… you’re brave, but you’re also stupid-adjacent.”
“I’m aware.”
“So now what? You look at the photos again? Sneak into another club? Get kidnapped? Become a Netflix documentary?”
“That’s the problem,” I muttered. “I don’t know what the next move is.”
Amara studied me for a long time, her expression softening.
“You want my honest advice?”
“Yes.”
“Talk to Dante.”
I blinked. “…Sorry?”
“Talk. To. Dante,” she repeated. “He owns the place the photos lead back to. He literally dragged you out of a bathroom while trying not to burn the city down, Seraphine. The man clearly gives a damn.”
“That doesn’t mean he cares about the case.”
She raised a brow. “Then he cares about you.”
My face went hot all over again. “Amara—”
“Girl,” she said, reaching across the table to flick my wrist, “I watched him charge across a bar like a rabid wolf the second your eyes went watery. That’s not a man who’s indifferent. That’s a man who’d set someone on fire for you.”
“Not funny,” I muttered, picking at my toast.
“Kind of funny,” she said. “But also kind of sexy.”
I groaned into my hands.
“And let’s be real,” Amara added, “you can't do this story alone. Someone out there is taking women. Dante has resources. Connections. Men. Power. He’ll help you.”
“That’s assuming he wants to.”
Amara scoffed. “Sweetheart, you sent that man an email telling him to go fuck himself. He’s probably in his penthouse right now rereading it like it’s a love letter.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
Then—
My phone buzzed on the table.
A number I didn’t recognize.
I unlocked it.
A single text.
My smile dropped.
Amara leaned over immediately. “What? What is it?”
My heart sank as I handed her the phone.
The message was short.
Just one sentence.
And it chilled my blood.
“We saw you at Elemental Veil. Stop digging.”
No name.
No signature.
No number ID.
Just an anonymous threat.
My hands trembled around my mimosa glass.
Amara looked up, eyes wide. “Okay. Nope. Absolutely not.”
I swallowed thickly. “I… think I need to call Dante.”
Amara exhaled sharply. “No. You don’t think. You are.”
She shoved the phone back into my hand.
“Because, babe? Someone’s watching you.”
I nodded — slow, stunned, terrified.
And for the first time since this whole nightmare began…
I wasn’t thinking like a journalist.
I was thinking like a woman who finally realized she might be next.
My thumb hovered over Dante’s name.
And I hit call.