Chapter 97 Seraphine
I woke up warm.
Not the burning, frantic heat I’d grown used to over the last few days—but the steady kind. The kind that seeps into your bones and convinces your body it’s safe enough to let go.
Dante.
I was curled into his side, my cheek pressed against his chest, one of his arms draped heavy around my waist like he’d decided in his sleep that I might try to escape if he loosened his grip. My legs were tangled with his, sheets twisted beyond saving.
Vaguely, I remembered eating an absurd amount of pad thai—five pounds, at least—sitting cross-legged on the floor with the others while exhaustion finally dragged me under. I remembered Amara threatening Lucian with bodily harm if he stole her spring roll. I remembered laughing. Actually laughing.
Then the bed.
Then Dante pulling me close like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I smiled to myself and carefully rolled onto my side, moving slow, testing every inch like a bomb disposal expert. I really didn’t want to wake him. He looked… peaceful. Which felt rare. Earned.
I was halfway through my escape when I realized I was being watched.
“Going somewhere?” he murmured.
I froze.
His eyes were open, bright and amused, a lazy smirk already curling his mouth.
“Rude,” I whispered. “I was being stealthy.”
“You’re terrible at it,” he said fondly.
I huffed, then leaned in and kissed him—soft, brief. A test.
He didn’t move.
So I did it again.
And again.
Three gentle kisses, spaced like punctuation marks.
He caught my wrist before I could pull away, tugged me closer. “You know,” he said quietly, “if you keep doing that, I’m not responsible for my actions.”
I grinned. “Bold of you to assume I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”
I leaned in—
BANG.
The knock rattled the door.
I groaned, dropping my forehead to Dante’s chest. “Of course. Of course.”
The knocking turned frantic, pounding now, and before either of us could say a word—
The door burst open.
“WE HAVE A PROBLEM.”
Lucian practically skidded into the room, hair wild, eyes bugged out like he’d just seen the apocalypse personally sign his death certificate.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. “We are never getting two minutes alone, are we?”
“No,” Dante muttered darkly. “We are not.”
Lucian didn’t even hear us. He was pacing now, running a hand through his hair, phone clenched tight in the other.
“This is bad,” he said. “Like, really bad.”
I pushed myself upright, sheets tangling around my legs. “Lucian. You say that about spilled water.”
“This is worse than spilled water.”
That got my attention.
He thrust the phone toward me. “I just got this.”
I squinted at the screen.
An email.
From Thane.
My stomach dropped.
I read it once.
Then again.
By the third time, rage was already clawing its way up my spine.
To the Council of Kings,
It has come to my attention that both Dante of Fire and Lucian of Water have crossed into my territory without permission. Their purpose was to obtain an unmated female currently under my protection.
This is a violation of ancient law.
It is also an act of treason.
An emergency council meeting has been called. Attendance is mandatory.
—Thane, King of Death
My hands shook.
“Unmated female in his possession?” I repeated slowly.
Dante sat up beside me, fire stirring just under his skin. “He does not own you.”
“Oh, I know,” I snapped. “But I would love to hear him explain that phrasing in public.”
Lucian swallowed. “They’re calling an immediate council. Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty,” I echoed. “That’s generous.”
My pulse roared in my ears.
Treason.
Traitors.
For saving women.
For dragging me out of his little horror show.
I looked down at the phone again, heat building fast and furious in my chest.
“Fine,” I said tightly. “Let’s go.”
Dante turned to me, expression fierce and protective. “You don’t have to—”
“I absolutely do,” I cut in. “He just put a target on all of us. I’m not letting you walk into that room without me.”
Something dark and proud flashed in his eyes.
Lucian exhaled shakily. “I really hate him.”
I handed the phone back, already swinging my legs out of bed. “Good. Because I’m about five seconds away from proving him right about the treason part.”
The clock was ticking.
And Thane had just made the biggest mistake of his long, miserable existence.
I was done.
Not tired-done.
Not overwhelmed-done.
The kind of done where something inside you goes very still and very sharp, and you realize you’re not surviving anymore—you’re ending things.
I moved through the townhouse like a woman possessed.
“No—boots, not sandals.”
“Yes—jacket, you’ll freeze in there.”
“Hair up. All of you. If someone grabs you, I want nothing they can pull.”
They listened.
That was the part that gutted me the most.
These women—who had been chained, drowned, drugged, used—didn’t hesitate when I told them what to do. Not because I commanded them.
Because they trusted me.
I helped zip coats. I tied laces with shaking fingers. I handed out water bottles and protein bars like rations before war.
Amara hovered at my shoulder, quietly grounding panic when it flared. Lucian moved fast and silent, eyes sharp, checking exits, checking reflections. Dante stayed close enough that I could feel his heat even when I wasn’t touching him.
“You don’t have to bring them,” Lucian murmured once.
I didn’t look at him. “Yes. I do.”
“They’ll be targets.”
“So will I,” I replied. “At least they won’t be alone.”
No one argued after that.
The drive was tense and quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with anticipation, like the air right before lightning splits the sky.
Five minutes late.
Deliberately.
I wanted them already angry. Already rattled.
The building loomed ahead—ancient stone and modern steel fused together, wards etched so deep into the structure they practically vibrated. The Council Hall. Neutral ground in theory. A battlefield in practice.
The moment the doors came into view, the noise hit us.
Shouting.
Not whispers. Not veiled threats.
Open, furious yelling.
“—THIS IS A VIOLATION—” Thane’s voice rang out, cold and thunderous, death rolling behind every syllable. “They trespassed on my land—”
“My consort is DEAD,” Kael roared, raw and unrestrained. “You let her die—”
Valin’s voice cut through them both, sharp as lightning cracking stone. “None of you have respect anymore. Not for law. Not for balance—”
I smiled.
Tight. Mean.
Perfect.
Dante stepped forward first.
I followed half a step behind him.
Amara fell in behind Lucian.
And the women—my women—walked behind us in a loose line, shoulders squared, eyes forward, fear held tight but not winning.
The doors opened.
Every voice stopped.
The hall went dead silent.