Chapter 50 Seraphine
My breath caught.
Not dramatic. Not loud.
Just a sharp, involuntary hitch—like my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
“…Stephen?” I said again, slower this time. Like saying his name differently might change what it meant.
“Yes.”
The word landed heavy. Bitter.
I looked past Dante for a moment, eyes unfocused, replaying years of shared history. Fights. Protectiveness that smothered. Guilt tangled with love, all bound by blood and obligation.
“He shouldn’t be here,” I said finally.
Not angry.
Just tired.
“I agree,” Dante replied. “Which is why he isn’t coming up.”
My gaze snapped back to him. “You stopped him?”
“I blocked elevator access and had him intercepted.” He paused. “I told him you’re safe. But unavailable.”
My jaw tightened. “He’s going to lose his mind.”
“I know.”
“And he’ll think that’s your fault.”
“I can live with that.”
That earned him a look—one brow lifting slightly, heat flickering behind exhaustion.
“Of course you can,” I muttered.
Lucian shifted subtly in the corner, attention split between Amara and the hallway beyond the door. Amara hadn’t said anything yet, but her posture was tense—wound too tight.
I dragged a hand down my face.
“This is a lot,” I said quietly. “I went to sleep because my brain literally shut off.”
“I know,” Dante said.
I glanced at his hands—open, visible—then back to his face.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
There it was.
He exhaled slowly. “Valin confirmed Renee isn’t moving cautiously anymore. She’s accelerating.”
My shoulders stiffened. “Toward…?”
“Toward Lucian’s territory.”
Lucian answered before Dante could. “If she crosses the river line, that becomes an act of war.”
My eyes widened. “War. Like—actual war.”
“Yes.”
I let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh that broke halfway through. “All because of me.”
“No,” Dante said firmly. “Because of her.”
“Because of what I am,” I corrected.
He didn’t deny it.
I stood, wobbling slightly before steadying myself. Every instinct screamed for Dante to reach out—but he didn’t.
He was giving me control.
“What happens if she reaches Water territory?” I asked.
Lucian didn’t soften it. “People die.”
My throat tightened.
“And Stephen showing up,” I continued, thinking out loud, “that’s not random either. Someone tipped him off.”
“Yes,” Dante said. “Or baited him.”
My head snapped up. “You think they’re using him.”
“I think Renee doesn’t waste leverage.”
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Then I surprised everyone—including myself.
“What do you need from me?” I asked.
Lucian went still.
So did Dante.
“I’m serious,” I continued. “If I’m the variable everyone’s circling, tell me how to minimize the damage.”
Something warm stirred low in Dante’s chest—not wild fire.
Pride.
“I need you to stay here,” he said. “For now. No leaving. No contacting Stephen directly.”
“He’s my brother.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I’m not asking you to abandon him. I’m asking you not to walk into a trap.”
I studied his face, then nodded once. “Okay.”
Lucian’s brows lifted slightly.
“And,” I added, turning toward him and Amara, “if someone tries to use either of them because of me—I want to know.”
“You will,” Lucian said immediately.
Amara finally exploded.
“Okay, hold up—no,” she snapped. “Absolutely not. Cameras? Everywhere? Sera, that’s not okay. You’re a journalist. You should be furious. That’s a massive invasion of privacy.”
I blinked at her.
“Amara,” I said slowly, “he told me. During the tour. He pointed them out.”
She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “That doesn’t make it better.”
“It does to me.”
Lucian stepped subtly between us. Not aggressive. Just final.
“She’s aware,” he said calmly. “And she consented.”
Amara’s jaw clenched. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t creepy.”
“I don’t feel creeped on,” I said flatly. “I feel protected.”
That shut her up.
Barely.
Dante met my eyes. “I’ll handle Stephen,” he said. “And Renee.”
I nodded. “Then go. Stop her.”
He turned to leave.
“And Dante?” I added.
He paused.
“When this is over,” I said steadily, “we’re talking. Really talking.”
Something unspoken passed between us.
“Yes,” he said.
Dante looked at me one last time before leaving—really looked at me, like he was checking something internal, something only he could see—then nodded once and turned toward the door.
Lucian followed him out.
The door shut softly behind them.
And that’s when Amara lost it.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded, spinning on me. “You’re a journalist, Seraphine. A journalist. You’re supposed to care about privacy. Consent. Surveillance.”
“I did consent,” I said, confused. “He told me—”
“That doesn’t make it okay!” she snapped. “You should feel violated. You should feel angry.”
I blinked at her. “I don’t.”
She threw her hands up. “That’s the problem.”
“No,” I said, sharper now. “The problem is you telling me how I’m supposed to feel.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You don’t get to project your panic onto me,” I continued. “Not right now.”
She stared at me for a long second, like she didn’t recognize me at all.
Then she scoffed. “Wow. Okay. Fine. Clearly I’m the crazy one.”
She stormed out, muttering something under her breath.
The door slammed.
I exhaled slowly.
Jesus. What was her deal?
She’d been weird all day—overprotective, jumpy, defensive in a way that didn’t quite track. I made a mental note to revisit that later, then grabbed my phone off the nightstand.
Several missed calls.
Stephen.
Texts too. Rapid-fire. Worried. Angry. Confused.
I didn’t open them.
Dante would handle it.
And honestly? I trusted that.
He wouldn’t hurt Stephen. Not unless Stephen did something incredibly stupid first.
I changed into pajamas—soft tank, short shorts—and crawled into bed, exhaustion finally pulling me under like gravity.
I’d barely settled when—
BANG.
A loud crash echoed somewhere in the penthouse.
Then shouting.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
I bolted upright, every nerve lighting up at once.
“What the hell…?”
My heart dropped straight into my stomach.
Amara screamed.
It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t startled.
It was sharp—raw—fear cutting clean through the penthouse.
And then—
My brother’s voice thundered across the entire floor.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
Stephen.