LOGINShe can see the chains on his soul. He can't see the knife in her hand. Seraphina Luca has spent her whole life watching powerful men wear invisible chains they don't know exist—contracts written in shadow, binding their souls to an ancient debt. She never asked for this gift. It's only made her isolated and alone. Then Dante Romano stole her father's soul to burn his own contract. He's the most feared name in the underworld—cold, ruthless, and utterly convinced the ends justify the means. Seraphina should want him dead. God, she wants him dead. She also can't stop watching the way he flinches when someone calls him a monster. Like some small, starving part of him agrees. When she's pulled into his world, the attraction is immediate and electric. He sees her as leverage. She sees him as the man who destroyed her family. They circle each other, testing and taunting, until the wall between hatred and hunger crumbles. She falls into bed with the man who orphaned her—and hates herself for wanting to stay. But the clock is ticking. The ancient god who holds their contracts is dying. Someone is planning a massacre that will shatter the system forever. Seraphina has one choice: help Dante burn it all down, or watch everything she loves disappear. She can't have vengeance and love. She can't save the world and save herself. She has to pick one.
View MoreSERAPHINAI don't sleep the night we come back from the Wood.I lie in the dark, turning Odette's words over and over. A Keeper.Once a generation. Rare enough that most Houses think the bloodline died out.I feel the shape of my own secret get heavier every time I turn it.He doesn't know. He sat three feet from the truth and didn't see it. Some small, cowardly part of me is relieved.Some other part, colder and more honest, knows exactly what that relief is worth.Nothing. It's borrowed time. And I know better than anyone in this tower what borrowed time eventually costs.I don't tell him. Not that night. Not the next morning either, when Vittoria knocks on my door before I've even dressed, trailing a woman I've never met behind her."Lena," Vittoria says, by way of introduction. "Works the Under-Tunnels.Her grandfather runs half the black market moving between the Houses. She's got something you both need to hear."Lena doesn't sit. She stands with her arms crossed, jaw tight, dir
SERAPHINA"You want to take me where?"Dante doesn't blink at the sharpness in my voice.He stands in my doorway, already dressed for travel, dark coat over his shoulders, impatience in his eyes."The Mourning Wood," he says. "Odette Delacroix hasn't left it in eleven years.If you want answers about the ritual, she's the only one left alive who has them.""I've heard the stories," I say, crossing my arms. "Whisper-Wraiths.Things that wear the faces of people you've lost. They lure you off the path and into the dark. People go in and never come out.""They're real," he says plainly. No comfort. No softness."Stay close to me. Don't answer anything that talks to you wearing a face you recognize. That's the only rule that matters.""That's not a rule. That's a warning wrapped around a nightmare.""Most useful things are," he says, and holds the door open.I stare at him. I think about the Stone Garden. I think about the rot spreading through his chain. I think about my father's name st
SERAPHINAThe knock on my door comes late, well past the hour any of the guards usually bother checking on me, and when I open it, I'm expecting Cato with another tray I won't finish.Instead I find a woman I've never met, standing with her arms crossed and an expression that is doing its very best to look casual and failing completely."You're the debt girl," she says, like that settles something."I have a name.""I know. Seraphina." She says it carefully, like she's testing the shape of it in her mouth. "I'm Vittoria. Dante's sister."I study her for a long second. Same dark hair as her brother, though hers falls loose instead of cropped "Depends," she says, and steps past me into the room without waiting to be invited, which I decide, after a moment, that I don't actually mind. "Are you planning to murder my brother in his sleep?""I've thought about it," I say honestly. "I decided against it. For now."That gets a startled laugh out of her—real, sudden, nothing careful about it a
SERAPHINAThree days. Three days locked in a glass room at the top of a black tower, and the worst part isn't the guards outside my door, or the cold marble under my bare feet at night, or even the ache of missing Ruth's stall and Milo's terrible jokes.The worst part is that Dante Romano hasn't come back.I tell myself I don't care. I tell myself that every hour I don't have to look at his face is a mercy, one less chance for him to see how badly my hands shake when I think about the rain barrel… About my father's soul torn loose like something ripped out of a body that was never meant to give it up.I tell myself that, and I don't believe a word of it."You're doing the thing again," says the guard outside my door Cato, I've learned, is his name, one of the only ones who bothers to talk to me at all. He's leaning in the doorway with a tray of food I don't want. "Pacing. You've worn a track in the floor.""There's nothing else to do," I say. "Unless you're offering to let me leave.






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