Chapter 72 Seraphine
I didn’t mean to drift.
One moment I was sitting upright, back pressed to cold concrete, counting breaths and keeping the fire steady—low, contained, shared—and the next my head tipped forward, chin brushing my chest. The warmth I’d bled into the room was still there, faint but present, like an afterimage. My eyelids felt too heavy to hold open.
Voices carried through the haze.
Low. Careful. Whispered like secrets passed hand to hand.
“…why’s it getting cold again?” someone murmured from somewhere to my left.
Another voice—older, sharper—answered, “Because she’s falling asleep.”
I forced my eyes open a fraction. The fire dimmed in response, not gone, just… tired. Like me.
A third whisper cut in, harsher. “Then wake her up. I’m so fucking sick of freezing.”
My jaw clenched.
Before I could speak, someone else snapped back, “Don’t be rude. Jesus. She didn’t have to do anything for us.”
A few soft snickers followed. The kind that weren’t funny—just mean.
“Yeah, well,” another muttered, “some of us haven’t felt our feet in days.”
My head lifted slightly. I tried to pull the fire closer again, but it flickered, uncertain. My body protested—heavy, sluggish, like I’d run a marathon and then some.
“I’m not asleep,” I rasped. My voice sounded wrecked, scraped raw. “Just… give me a second.”
The murmurs quieted.
Someone near me—close enough that I could feel her warmth—shifted and whispered, gentler this time, “Don’t push yourself. You already did more than anyone here.”
I nodded faintly, even though she couldn’t see it.
That’s when the door exploded open.
Not a knock. Not a warning.
A violent crash that echoed through the chamber, metal slamming against concrete hard enough to make the walls shudder.
Women screamed.
Chains rattled.
I snapped fully awake, every nerve screaming.
Light flooded in from the hall beyond—harsh, white, unforgiving—and silhouetted two figures in the doorway.
Renee walked in first.
Calm. Composed. Smiling like she’d just walked into a party she was hosting.
And behind her—
Thane.
For half a heartbeat, my brain refused to process it.
Storm King. Thunder. The one who postured and joked and pretended everything was a game.
He was here.
In this place.
With her.
“What the hell—” I breathed, more to myself than anyone else.
The room erupted into chaos. Women scrambled away from the door, backs pressing to walls, chains clanking as panic spread. Someone cried out. Someone else prayed.
Renee’s eyes found mine instantly.
Of course they did.
Her smile widened. “Did you miss me?”
Thane stepped forward, boots heavy against concrete, eyes locked on me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t wait to dismantle. Power rolled off him in waves—electric, sharp, buzzing against my skin.
He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to my level, gaze sweeping over me with unsettling interest.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” he murmured, voice low, almost pleased. “But I’m impressed.”
My stomach dropped.
“Get away from her,” someone shouted from the back of the room.
Thane didn’t even glance in their direction.
Renee laughed softly and moved closer to him, pressing herself into his side like she owned him. She tilted her face up, lips parting, clearly going in for a kiss—
The crack of impact echoed like a gunshot.
Thane backhanded her without hesitation.
Renee flew sideways, body slamming into the concrete and skidding several feet before she hit a wall near the other women. They scattered instinctively, scrambling away from her like she was contagious.
She didn’t get up.
Didn’t cry out.
Just lay there, stunned, one arm twisted awkwardly beneath her.
No one helped her.
Not one person moved.
The silence that followed was thick. Shocked. Heavy.
Thane straightened slowly, rolling his shoulder like he’d just swatted an inconvenience.
“Don’t touch me,” he said flatly, not even looking at Renee. “You forget your place far too easily.”
My heart hammered.
So much didn’t make sense. Kings didn’t work like this. They didn’t share power. They didn’t collaborate with unhinged shadow dragonborn and then strike them down in the same breath.
Unless—
Unless this was never a partnership.
Unless Renee had been useful. And now she wasn’t.
Thane’s attention snapped back to me.
He walked closer, unhurried, each step deliberate. The women shrank back as much as their restraints allowed, fear rippling through the room.
I tried to summon my fire.
It stirred—but weakly. Flickering like a candle in a draft.
Damn it.
Thane stopped just out of arm’s reach, towering over me. I could feel the storm in him now, pressure building in the air, the faint scent of ozone.
“I have special plans for you,” he said softly.
Every instinct I had screamed.
“For all of you, really,” he added, glancing around the room with open calculation. “But you…” His gaze returned to mine. “You’re the key.”
I forced my chin up, even as my pulse roared in my ears. “You’re insane.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “Possibly.”
Renee groaned behind him, finally stirring. Thane didn’t turn.
“She burned the room,” he went on conversationally. “Warmed them. Organized them.” His eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t instinct. That was leadership.”
I swallowed hard.
“And that,” he continued, “is far more dangerous.”
I met his gaze, refusing to look away. Fear churned in my gut, but beneath it—anger sparked. Hot. Familiar.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said hoarsely.
Thane laughed quietly. “Every great change starts that way.”
Behind him, Renee pushed herself up onto her elbows, eyes wild, blood trickling from her mouth. She watched us with something like hatred—and something like relief.
As if this had always been how it would end.
Thane straightened and snapped his fingers.
“Prepare her,” he ordered, voice sharp. “The others can wait.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Prepare me for what?
As he turned away, the fire inside my chest flared weakly in protest—small, defiant, refusing to go out.
I clung to it.
I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I knew I had to survive. If not for myself, for the other women here in this room.