Chapter 49 Dante
The room was crowded now.
Not chaotic—never that—but dense with presence. Heat and water alike. My men stood along the walls in disciplined silence, fireborn veterans with eyes sharp and posture locked. Lucian’s people mirrored them opposite—calm, fluid, deadly in a quieter way. The air itself felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.
Nearly an hour.
That’s how long it had been since Amara left my office to tell Seraphine about the cameras.
No shouting.
No slammed doors.
No explosions—literal or otherwise.
Nothing.
I hadn’t checked the feeds.
Not once.
That restraint cost me more than I cared to admit, but Lucian was right—we couldn’t afford divided attention. Not now. Not with Valin’s dolófónos moving and Renee cutting across territories like she wanted the world to burn behind her.
Lucian stood at the head of the table with me, a digital map projected between us. Routes. Timelines. Fallback positions.
“We intercept before she reaches the river line,” Lucian said, tapping the display. “If she crosses into Water territory, Valin won’t hesitate. He warned us.”
“And if she doubles back?” one of my captains asked.
“She won’t,” I said flatly. “Renee doesn’t retreat unless she’s already won.”
A low murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
Lucian continued, “You know your assignments. No heroics. No solo chases. If you lose visual, you pull back and report. We do not escalate unless necessary.”
“Necessary,” one of my men echoed with a grim smile.
Lucian shot him a look. “Necessary means unavoidable. Not satisfying.”
The smile vanished.
Good.
I opened my mouth to speak again when the side door cracked open and one of the live-in maids slipped in, pale and visibly shaken.
“Sir,” she said, eyes darting between us. “There’s… there’s someone on the ground floor. Trying to access the private elevator.”
Every instinct in me snapped tight.
“Who,” I demanded.
She swallowed. “A man. He keeps entering different codes. He’s… getting frustrated.”
I was already moving.
I crossed the room in three strides and pulled the security feeds onto the main screen. Cameras flickered, shifting angles until—
There.
Stephen Vale.
Seraphine’s brother.
He stood in front of the elevator panel, jaw clenched, running a hand through his hair as he punched in another code. His badge was clipped to his belt. His stance tense. Controlled. But beneath it—
Worry.
Anger.
Fear.
“So,” I muttered. “He knows she’s here.”
Lucian joined me at the screen. “Or he guessed. Cops have instincts too. Even the dirty ones.”
I didn’t respond.
Instead, I switched feeds.
Seraphine’s room.
She was sprawled across the bed, fully clothed, curled on her side like her body had simply shut down. Exhaustion radiated off her even through the screen. Amara sat in the corner chair, legs tucked up, completely absorbed in some bright, ridiculous game on her phone, oblivious to the world ending around her.
No confrontation yet.
No screaming.
Just… quiet.
Relief hit me so hard it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Good,” I said softly. “She’s asleep.”
Lucian studied the screen for a moment. “Doesn’t mean she won’t wake up angry.”
“Fair,” I admitted. “But it buys us time.”
I turned back to the room. “Lucian.”
He looked at me.
“Send the men,” I said. “They’re ready.”
Lucian didn’t hesitate. He raised his voice—clear, commanding, carrying authority that needed no volume.
“Move. All teams. Now.”
The room exploded into motion—boots hitting the floor, coats grabbed, weapons secured. In seconds, my office emptied of everyone but the two of us.
And the screens.
Stephen Vale was still downstairs, swearing now as another attempt failed.
Lucian crossed his arms. “You want him handled?”
“Not yet,” I said. “He’s not the threat. Not tonight.”
Lucian nodded. “Renee is.”
“Yes.” I exhaled slowly. “But Stephen complicates things.”
I shut down the feeds and turned to him fully.
“I need you with me,” I said. “We’re going to Seraphine’s room.”
Lucian frowned immediately. “Dante—”
“I need you to handle Amara,” I cut in. “Keep her occupied. Calm. Away from Seraphine.”
“You’re assuming Seraphine will talk to you,” he pointed out.
“I know,” I said. “But I need to try.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like it. I could feel his reluctance like pressure in the air.
“She just found out you were watching her,” he said quietly. “That’s not nothing.”
“I know,” I replied. “And I’ll deal with the consequences. But if Stephen gets upstairs, if Seraphine wakes up and sees him here—”
“That could get ugly,” Lucian finished.
“Fast,” I agreed.
Lucian dragged a hand down his face. “You’re asking me to run interference on my mate.”
“I’m asking you to protect her,” I corrected. “And Seraphine. Both.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then Lucian sighed. “You owe me for this.”
“I already do,” I said.
He shook his head, but there was no real anger there. “Fine. But if she throws something at me, I’m not apologizing.”
I almost smiled.
We moved together down the hall, the penthouse eerily quiet now without the hum of preparation. As we passed the security station, I issued a quick order to the maid.
“Do not let Stephen Vale onto the elevator,” I said. “Tell him Seraphine is safe, but unavailable.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And alert me if he refuses.”
She nodded, visibly relieved to have clear instructions.
Lucian slowed near Seraphine’s door. “You ready?”
No.
“Yes,” I said anyway.
I rested my hand on the doorframe—not opening it yet—grounding myself.
Whatever waited on the other side, I would face it.
Because half-measures would get people killed.
And I was done losing things I hadn’t even been allowed to keep yet.
Lucian didn’t knock.
He opened the door quietly, controlled, and stepped aside just enough for me to follow him in.
Amara noticed us instantly.
She straightened in the chair, phone slipping into her pocket, eyes sharp despite the hour. She crossed the room in two quick steps and shook Seraphine gently by the shoulder.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Sera. Wake up.”
Seraphine stirred, brow furrowing, a soft sound leaving her throat as she rolled onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first—then they landed on me.
There was no flash of anger.
No flare of fire.
Just bone-deep weariness.
“…what,” she murmured hoarsely. “What’s wrong now?”
The sound of her voice hit me harder than shouting would have.
Lucian moved immediately.
He caught Amara by the wrist—not roughly, but firmly—and guided her backward, one steady step at a time, until her back brushed the far wall near the window.
“Quiet,” he said under his breath. Not a suggestion. An order.
Amara opened her mouth to argue—of course she did—but one look at Lucian’s face stopped her cold. He shook his head once, subtle but absolute, then positioned himself slightly in front of her like a shield.
She folded her arms, jaw tight, eyes never leaving me.
Good. She was alert. Protective.
Seraphine pushed herself upright, hair falling into her face as she sat on the edge of the bed. She scrubbed a hand down her cheeks and blinked a few times like she was trying to wake her brain up fully.
I stepped closer—but not into her space. I stopped a few feet away, keeping my hands visible, open. Non-threatening.
“There’s someone downstairs,” I said. “Trying to get up here.”
That got her attention.
Her spine straightened. “Who.”
“Your brother.”