Chapter 70 Seraphine
The warmth held.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the fire itself—I’d already pulled that back, tucked it low and tight so Renee wouldn’t sense it flaring again—but the way the concrete no longer bit into my skin like ice. The air wasn’t comfortable, exactly. Just survivable.
That mattered.
I shifted as much as the chains would allow, metal scraping softly against stone. My wrists burned where the cuffs rubbed raw skin, but I ignored it. Pain was familiar. Panic was the enemy.
The women were watching me.
Not staring—not anymore. Watching the way people do when they’re waiting for instructions they don’t know how to ask for.
Okay.
Fine.
I exhaled slowly. “All right,” I said quietly. “We need to do this smart.”
A woman a few feet away snorted under her breath. “Smart would’ve been not getting kidnapped.”
A few tired, bitter laughs followed.
“I agree,” I said evenly. “Unfortunately, we’re past that part.”
That got their attention.
I let my gaze move deliberately around the room, counting heads, watching breathing patterns, posture, tremors. Some women looked barely conscious. Others were alert but weak. A few were watching the door like cornered animals.
“First,” I said, “who’s hurt?”
A pause.
Then a woman near the wall raised her hand shakily. “My ankle. I think it’s sprained. Maybe worse.”
Another voice chimed in. “She dislocated my shoulder dragging me in here. I popped it back myself.”
“That’s metal,” someone muttered.
“Not helpful,” I said, but there was a faint edge of approval in my voice. “Anyone bleeding?”
A woman closer to me lifted her sleeve, revealing dried blood along her forearm. “Cut it on the chains.”
I nodded. “Okay. Injured stays seated. Don’t move unless you have to.”
I shifted my weight again, chains clinking. “Who’s been here the longest?”
A woman with hollow cheeks and sharp eyes lifted her chin. “Me. Almost two weeks.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
“Has anyone tried to leave?” I asked.
“No,” she said flatly. “No doors from inside. And she doesn’t unlock these unless she’s taking someone out.”
That word landed like a stone.
“Taking out?” someone whispered.
The woman nodded once. “Three so far.”
My stomach twisted. “And they didn’t come back.”
“No.”
Silence swallowed the room.
“Has anyone seen anyone with her?” I asked instead. “Anyone else. Guards. Assistants.”
A younger girl—late teens, maybe—hesitated, then raised her hand halfway. “I saw a man once.”
Every muscle in my body went tight. “What kind of man?”
She frowned, trying to remember. “Tall. Dark jacket. Didn’t feel like her. He didn’t talk.”
“Did he touch anyone?” I asked.
She shook her head quickly. “No. He stayed by the door.”
“Did he look… human?” I pressed.
She chewed her lip. “I don’t know. He didn’t feel like a cop. Or security.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
“Anyone else see him?” I asked.
A couple women nodded.
“Did Renee seem in charge?” I asked.
“Yes,” several answered immediately.
Okay. That mattered.
“How did she take you?” I asked the group. “Where did you meet her?”
The answers came in pieces.
“At a club.”
“I was leaving the ER. She said she needed help.”
“I was at work. She walked right into the store.”
“A pet store,” someone said faintly. “She asked about food for reptiles.”
A few incredulous laughs broke out, sharp with disbelief.
“She didn’t care who saw?” I asked.
“No,” the pet store woman said. “She smiled the whole time.”
My jaw tightened.
Hospitals. Clubs. Sidewalks. Daylight.
She wasn’t hiding.
She was shopping.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “That tells me something.”
“What?” someone asked.
“She’s not worried about being stopped,” I said. “Which means either she thinks she can’t be… or she’s running out of time.”
That sent another ripple through the room.
A woman near the back asked quietly, “What are we?”
Every head turned toward me.
I didn’t dodge it.
“We’re dragonborn,” I said. “Or… adjacent to it. Aligned. Something inside us reacts to certain forces.”
“Like superpowers?” someone asked skeptically.
“No,” I said. “More like… pressure. Heat. Cold. Weight. Shadows.”
A woman hugged herself. “I always feel like the room is heavier around me.”
Another whispered, “I’m cold even when I shouldn’t be.”
I nodded. “That tracks.”
“What does she want us for?” the injured woman demanded. “What’s the point?”
My chest tightened.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “And that’s the worst part.”
Frustrated murmurs broke out.
“But,” I continued, raising my voice just slightly, “I do know she’s not killing us randomly. She’s waiting. Preparing.”
“For what?” someone snapped.
“I don’t know,” I repeated. “But whatever it is, it involves timing. And control.”
A woman near the wall spoke up hesitantly. “This place… I think I’ve been here before.”
Every eye snapped to her.
“Where?” I asked.
“Years ago,” she said slowly. “I worked maintenance for the city. This feels like an old transit hub. Emergency tunnels. Power conduits.”
My pulse jumped. “Which means?”
“Multiple exits,” she said. “Hidden ones. Freight lifts.”
That was the first real hope I’d heard.
“Good,” I said. “That means this place wasn’t built to be a cage.”
A woman frowned. “Then why chain us?”
“Because she doesn’t trust us not to run,” I said. “And because fear makes people easier to control.”
A bitter laugh came from somewhere. “She picked the wrong group.”
I allowed myself a thin smile. “Yeah. She did.”
I shifted again, testing my chains subtly. “Listen to me. We don’t fight her head-on. We don’t provoke her.”
“Then what?” someone asked.
“We wait,” I said. “We watch. We remember.”
I met their eyes one by one.
“And when there’s an opening—we take it.”
A beat.
A woman whispered, “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
I thought of Dante. Of panic. Of locking parts of myself away.
“No,” I said quietly. “But I’m very good at noticing patterns.”
That earned a few nods.
The warmth lingered.
Not fire.
Not fear.
Just enough to keep everyone breathing.