Chapter 9 – Between the Thorns of Morning

POV: Seraphina

The phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Once. Then again.

A small, persistent tremor against the nightstand, slicing through the hush that followed everything.

Alex stirred beside me, half-asleep, one arm heavy across my waist. The moonlight cut through the blinds, drawing pale silver lines over our tangled limbs. My heart still hadn’t steadied from earlier, from the warmth of his hands, the heat that made me forget who I was for a little while.

I turned my head toward the glow on the nightstand. Mom again.

The name on the screen made something in my chest tighten. For a second, I thought about answering. I could almost hear her voice, calm but sharp around the edges, asking why I hadn’t come home. But I didn’t want to hear anything right now, not apologies, not explanations, not her soft “sweetheart” that always came home too late.

I let the phone buzz until it stopped. Then silence again.

Alex’s breathing deepened. I stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the shadows, trying not to think about the blood I’d seen earlier, or the sound of the vase breaking, or the way the house had gone silent afterward, too silent.

I closed my eyes and whispered to no one but myself; I just want to forget.

By morning, the world had rearranged itself into sunlight and noise.

Alex was already gone. A half-empty glass of water sat by the sink, his cologne still lingering in the air. The usual sharp, expensive, and intoxicating smell.

I pushed the blanket aside, dragging myself up. My head ached. My throat felt dry.

Everything looked too bright. Too clean. Like the night had never happened.

I showered, dressed, and texted my driver to meet me in ten minutes. My voice message, as usual, was clipped and direct.

He didn’t show up for twenty-five.

When the black car finally rolled up, I was already pacing by the dorm gate, clutching my bag too tightly. The morning air was hot, humming with the sounds of campus life: laughter, footsteps, engines starting. Everyone seemed too alive, and it irritated me.

The driver stepped out, another a new face. Young, polite, nervous. He bowed slightly. “Apologies, Miss Marcell. There was a bit of…”

“Save it,” I cut in. “You’re late.”

He blinked. “Only fifteen minutes…”

“Fifteen minutes is still late.” My tone was sharp enough to make him flinch. I didn’t even mean to sound cruel. It just came out that way, easier than letting anything else show.

He nodded, murmuring, “It won’t happen again, Miss.”

“It better not,” I said, sliding into the backseat. “The last one said that too, and he’s probably working in traffic control now.”

His shoulders stiffened in the mirror, but he said nothing. I leaned back, crossing my legs, pretending not to notice.

The truth was, this wasn’t my first driver.

Not my second either.

Most didn’t last long, some quit, others got reassigned. My father always handled it with a shrug, my mother with a soft sigh. The pattern never changed. I told myself it was because they were careless, because I couldn’t stand waiting around for people who didn’t value time.

But deep down, I knew the truth: I just couldn’t stand feeling ignored.

The silence in the car stretched. My phone buzzed once again, Mom. I didn’t open it.

I didn’t want to read the words. Not yet. Maybe never.

Instead, I looked out the window, watching the glassy campus gates come into view. The Marcell name still got whispers here, power, money, perfection. But underneath, I was just tired.

The driver pulled up by the student dorms. He climbed out to open my door, his hand trembling slightly. “We’ve arrived, Miss.”

“Good,” I said, stepping out, adjusting my sunglasses even though the sun wasn’t that bright. “If you’re ever late again, I’ll have you replaced by tomorrow.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking up in the mirror. “Understood, Miss.”

His tone wasn’t submissive, it was tight. Something in it made me feel small for a second, like I’d gone too far. But I didn’t apologize. I never did.

I turned away before the guilt could settle, my heels clicking against the marble pathway that led to my dorm.

The building loomed ahead, sleek, glass-paneled, the kind of luxury only old money could afford. Inside, I could already hear faint voices echoing down the hallway. My suite was on the third floor, shared with Avery, my best friend since high school.

At least, that’s what I still told people.

The elevator was slow, humming with old jazz music that only made the silence louder. When the doors opened, I stepped into the hallway, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

Then I froze.

A sound.

Soft, muffled.

It came from my room, our room.

I frowned, taking slow steps forward. The corridor smelled faintly of vanilla and coffee, Avery’s usual mix, but beneath it, something else hung in the air. Something heavy.

I reached for the door handle, my pulse picking up.

A thud.

Then a low, breathy sound, a woman’s gasp, half-choked.

My fingers went cold.

At first, I thought maybe Avery was watching something on her phone again, she had no shame when it came to trashy romance films. But then I heard it clearer.

Breathing. Panting. A muffled moan that didn’t belong in any movie.

I stood frozen, my knuckles pale against the doorknob. The air around me seemed to hum, hot and electric.

The rhythm of the sounds quickened, soft, desperate, intimate.

Something inside me twisted. My breath caught somewhere between disbelief and recognition.

I leaned closer, heart thudding.

Was that Avery?

The thought hit like a slap, not because of the act itself, but because of what it might mean.

The memory of last night, of Alex, of his scent, of the perfume I’d smelled that didn’t belong to me, flashed through my mind like lightning.

No.

It couldn’t be.

I pressed my ear closer to the door.

The moans grew louder, more desperate, tangled with a man’s low groan.

My throat went dry. My hand shook on the handle.

And just as I was about to turn it, …

A sharp cry cut through the air.

My heart stopped.

The sound that followed wasn’t just pleasure.

It was recognition.

The air left my lungs.

And everything inside me went still.