Chapter 4

Seraphina’s POV

A cold hand slipped under the edge of the silk, and I violently shoved the person away, pressing my whole weight deeper into the mattress as if I could melt right through the wood and disappear from the world entirely.

The hand came back, reaching for me again. I lashed out, shoving it off with a choked sob.

“It’s me, Phin.”

My eyes flew open at the sound.

That voice. Only one person on this earth ever called me that.

My blurry gaze locked onto a familiar, carved face, and the fight drained out of me in a single, shattering breath.

There he was.

The man I had loved through years of silence and ghosts. The same man who had slipped out of my life like smoke, only to crawl back wearing a different name and a terrifying new skin.

“Cas,” I muttered, the weight of the night crushing my chest.

If only he wasn't married to Valentina.

If only.

His hand reached for me again, cautious this time. I didn't push him away. Instead, I launched myself forward, burying my face blindly against his chest as a fresh wave of raw, agonizing sobs tore out of my throat.

My fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left in a universe that had just torn me apart.

His large palm came down on my back, slow and heavy, rubbing soothing circles while I wept until my ribs ached.

Slowly, the fog in my brain parted just enough for awareness to seep back in. I sniffed hard, pulling back just an inch to stare up at his face.

Beyond his shoulder, the dimness of the room resolved into a terrifying scene. The six men were kneeling on the floor, surrounded by armed guards with cold, heavy barrels pressed against the backs of their heads.

They shook in sheer, abject terror.

I tore my eyes away from them, looking back up at the man holding me.

“How—”

His jaw was locked so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. His eyes burning with a dark, lethal fury that felt entirely too heavy, too vicious.

Why is he this angry?

Definitely not me right?

“Why are you here?” I whimpered, wiping a trembling hand across my wet cheeks. “Is Valentina aware?”

He’s my first love, yeah. But he’s still my sister’s husband.

He’s the man who walked down the aisle with her, and now they both expect me to play incubator, carrying their child like I'm nothing more than a leased vessel.

Without a word, he scooped me effortlessly into his arms, carrying me out of the nightmare room. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, my gaze locked entirely on his clenched jaw.

He carried me down a quiet hallway, kicked open a door, and gently lowered me onto a plush bed. Reaching for a glass of water on the nightstand, he handed it to me.

My hands shook taking it from him, forcing the cold liquid down my burning throat, licking my dry lips.

Looking at him now under the light, the disconnect hit me hard. Carrius never carried this kind of dark, suffocating aura. Who even was this man sitting in front of me?

No. That wasn't the right question.

When did he change this much?

Not that it mattered. I wasn't the woman standing by his side anymore. Valentina was. She was the one who had his ring, his life, his public loyalty.

“Why did you even come down to this club, Phin?” His voice cut through the silence, dark and low.

I stared at him, a bitter laugh bubbling up my throat. I snapped my head back, anger flaring hot and bright right through the numbness.

“I’m not allowed to walk into a club now? Do I need your permission to breathe?”

He rubbed his temples hard, sinking back against the sofa chair with a sharp, ragged breath escaping his teeth.

He leaned forward.

“And what happened when you walked into the

club? huh?” He retorted, his voice rising, laced with an explosive mix of frustration, annoyance, and something else.

My mouth parted to speak, but the words caught in my throat like broken glass. I snapped my lips shut, pulling the duvet tighter around my shivering, bruised body, my eyes dropping to stare blankly at the floor.

Yeah. What was I supposed to say?

Oh, nothing much. Just walked into a club and got violated by men?

Please.

“Phin,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He breathed in deep, his dark gaze searching my face. “Give me time. I’ll pull you out of this mess. I promise.”

A promise? 

The word felt like salt rubbed directly into an open wound.

“Did you keep your promise years back?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet, hollowed out of all hope.

He looked away instantly, dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as if my words physically hurt him.

“And then you came back as Carrius. What happened to the name Caspian? Where the hell did he fly off to?” I deadpanned, letting the bitter memories wash over me in a tidal wave.

I was supposed to be the one holding the title of his wife. Not Valentina.

And now? Now that she was broken, now that her body couldn't give him a child, they remembered Seraphina existed?

I was definitely no longer a person to them anymore. I was a tool. A convenience.

“You didn’t come back for me, Cas. And now what? You realized your precious wife can't bear a child, so both of you suddenly remembered Seraphina exists, huh?” I snapped.

“Phin, it’s not what you think, ” he muttered. My brow furrowed, a bitter sob tearing out of me.

“It’s not what I think? Then enlighten me! Prove me wrong, Cas! Didn't you abandon me years ago as Caspian, only to stroll back into our lives as Carrius with my own sister wearing your ring? And now you're standing here acting like my savior?” I scoffed loudly, the sound echoing harshly in the quiet room.

“Phin, I—” he mumbled, completely swallowing his own words, not even knowing what lies left to tell.

“Just save it. It’s too late anyway.” I interrupted, clutching the duvet to myself, standing up on shaking, unsteady feet.

He didn't stand. He just slumped back against the chair, cursing lowly under his breath, staring at the ceiling.

My eyes flicked briefly to his arms. When had he built up like this? The last time he came around with Val, he was lean, polished, soft around the edges. This man sitting before me was built out of pure steel and danger.

I tore my gaze away, clutching the heavy duvet tighter around my bare chest, and dragged my dead weight toward the washroom.

“I’ll have someone get you something to wear,” he called out quietly.

I didn't bother answering. I slipped through the door, letting it click shut behind me, and pressed my entire back against the cold wood.

My legs gave out. I slid down to the tiled floor, pulling my knees up tight to my chest and burying my face against my arms.

A quiet, broken sob finally slipped past my lips, echoing off the sterile walls.

It was all just so exhausting.

I was tired.

Tired of being the substitute. Tired of being the pawn. Tired of being used, broken, and thrown away by the people who were supposed to love me.

It all just fucking sucks.