Chapter 7 - Seraphine
The second I stepped outside Obsidian Veil, the night air hit me like a slap.
Cool, damp, and blessedly ordinary.
I didn’t stop moving until I slid into the back seat of a waiting cab and slammed the door behind me. The driver asked where to, and I managed to mumble my address before my voice completely gave out.
My hands were shaking so hard that I nearly dropped my phone when I pulled it from my purse. My pulse was a freight train. My head was spinning.
I couldn’t believe I’d just walked into that place—that club—and walked out alive.
My mouth still burned with whiskey and adrenaline. My brain replayed everything: the heat of those golden eyes, the way he’d looked at me, the way Onyx had disappeared like smoke the second things got tense.
I’d gone undercover in a den of monsters—and somehow, I’d made it out alive.
The cab sped through the glowing veins of the city. Neon signs blurred past like memories I didn’t want to keep. Every few seconds, I glanced out the window, half expecting to see one of those black luxury cars from the club following close behind.
But the streets stayed empty.
I’d poked something I didn’t understand. And now I was in deep.
By the time the cab dropped me off, my heart rate had barely come down. I fumbled with my keys, locked the door behind me twice, and sank onto my couch. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
I should’ve called him sooner.
My brother.
But calling Stephen meant admitting that I was in over my head. And I hated doing that.
Still, there was no other choice now.
He was a cop—and not just any cop. Detective Stephen Vale, night shift, organized crime division. If anyone could dig up dirt on Obsidian Veil, it was him.
And if anyone would hold it over my head forever, it was also him.
I hit call.
He answered on the third ring.
“Seraphine?” His voice came through groggy but alert. “You alive, or calling to confess to a homicide?”
“Neither,” I said, collapsing back against the couch. “Just… checking in.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. You only call me when you need something. So what’s the favor this time?”
“Can’t a sister just call to say hi?”
“Not when she sounds like she’s hiding a body.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Fine. I need you to look something up for me.”
He groaned dramatically. “Here we go. What’s the name?”
“Obsidian Veil.”
There was silence on the other end, followed by the sound of him typing. Fast.
“You’re kidding,” he muttered.
“Nope.”
“Seraphine… please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing. Please tell me you didn’t actually go there.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Jesus, Seraphine.” More typing. “You do realize people disappear after going to that place, right?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “That’s kind of why I went.”
“Of course you did.” He sighed heavily. “Hang on.”
I didn’t answer.
I could hear the rapid-fire clicks of his keyboard, the faint hum of his police-issue computer fan. Stephen was annoyingly good at his job. He could pull up anyone’s records in less time than it took me to make coffee.
“Okay,” he said finally, voice unreadable. “Got your info.”
“That fast?”
“I’m amazing. You’re welcome.”
“Great,” I said, sitting up. “So, who owns the place?”
He hesitated. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you’re gonna do for me in return.”
I groaned. “Stephen, come on—”
“Information isn’t free, little sis.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll cook you dinner for a week.”
“Tempting, but no.”
“Lunch for a month? Night shift meals, hot and homemade.”
“Still not good enough.”
I sighed. “Then what do you want?”
He paused long enough for me to know I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“You remember what I’ve been asking you to do for the last six months?”
My stomach dropped. “No. Absolutely not.”
He chuckled. “Then I guess I can’t tell you who owns the club.”
I groaned. “Stephen—”
“Say it,” he said smugly.
I clenched my jaw. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Go where?”
“On the stupid double date. You, Carol, and your cop buddy, right?”
“That’s the one.”
I sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”
“You’ll live. Rio’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
His grin was practically audible through the phone. “Deal’s a deal. You ready for your info?”
“Spit it out.”
“The club’s listed under Lucian Drayke—owner and operator. But there’s a co-owner, and that’s where it gets interesting.”
“Who?”
“Dante Vescari. And before you ask, yes, that’s spelled V-E-S-C-A-R-I.”
I froze. “Vescari?”
“Yep. Guy’s got ties to everything from property development to private imports. Real quiet type, though. Practically invisible on paper. But from what I can tell?”
“What?”
“He’s dangerous. Really dangerous.”
The air left my lungs. Dante Vescari. The man from the club. The one who’d looked at me like he was peeling away my secrets.
Stephen continued. “I’m sending you what I’ve got—photos, records, and what little background info’s public. Be careful, Seraphine. These guys don’t play around.”
My phone buzzed as the files started coming through. I opened the first image and almost dropped it. Dante, mid-conversation, captured in perfect lighting. The same molten eyes. The same quiet danger.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Stephen replied. “You owe me dinner with Carol and Rio. And guess what? Tomorrow’s the only night we all have off.”
“Tomorrow?!”
“Yep. I already told Carol to make the reservation.”
“Where?”
“At Elysium House.”
I groaned. “The one that costs more than my rent?”
“Exactly. Dress up. You’re buying dessert.”
He hung up before I could protest.
I stared at the phone, then at the photo of Dante still glowing on the screen.
Lucian Drayke. Dante Vescari. Obsidian Veil.
The pieces were starting to fit together—and I had no idea what kind of monster I’d just made a deal with.