LOGINAuthor POV The rock was cold in Alex’s hand. Jagged edge pressed against his palm. Seraph felt it hover behind her head, close enough that her hair moved when his fingers trembled.Sloane’s gun stayed level. “Alex. Put it down. Now.”Alex didn’t move. His arm stayed locked around Seraph’s waist. His breathing was fast, uneven, against the back of her neck. Not calm. Not cruel. Terrified.“I can’t,” he whispered in her ear. “If I don’t, Maya gets arrested tomorrow. Elena has files. Her signature. Forged, but it won’t matter. She’s twelve, Seraph. She thinks I’m the one who keeps the monsters away.”Seraph’s heart hammered. She didn’t struggle. She didn’t scream. She listened. “Then let me help you,” she said, voice low. “There’s another way. We have the drive. We take Elena down. No one has to die.”Alex laughed. It hurt to hear. “You think Elena doesn’t know that? She sent me the photo of Maya because she knew I’d choose her. She wants you to watch me become him. She wants me to prov
The car smelled like rain and Alex’s jacket. Seraph slept with her head against the window, flash drive clutched in her palm. Data that could end Tradefare. Data that made her a target. Alex drove. Quiet. Too quiet. She woke when the streetlights disappeared. No city glow. No other cars. Just trees crowding the road and the sound of tires on gravel. The GPS showed nothing but black. Seraph sat up slow, rubbing her eyes. “Where are we?” “Taking the back way,” Alex said. He didn’t look at her. Both hands on the wheel. Knuckles white. “Less traffic. Less eyes.” Seraph frowned. “Back way to where? The safehouse is on the other side of the city.” Alex didn’t answer. He reached forward and turned off the GPS. The screen went dark. The car went darker. Seraph’s stomach tightened. “Alex.” “Yeah?” His voice was still Alex. Still low, still tired. But there was something under it. Something she’d never heard before. “Why’d you turn off the GPS?” she asked. She kept her voice even. Sh
Author POV Darkness swallowed the warehouse whole. The nightlight died. The single bulb above the door went out. Even Elena’s gun made no sound.For three seconds there was only breathing. Seraph’s. Maya’s. Elena’s sharp inhale.Then Alex’s voice again, closer this time: “Hands off the gun, Elena.”A scuffle. Metal clattered on concrete. The gun skidded across the floor and hit Seraph’s foot. She didn’t pick it up.A lighter flared. Alex stood ten feet away, one wrist still cuffed to a piece of broken chain. Sloane’s cuffs, probably snapped off with a pipe somewhere between the precinct and Pier 17. His face was pale, sweat at his temples, but his eyes were clear. No flatness. No knife.“Alex,” Elena said. She didn’t sound surprised. She sounded annoyed. “You were supposed to be in a cell.”“I was,” Alex said. He didn’t look at her. He looked at Seraph. “Then I remembered you count to twenty when you’re lying. You only
Author POV The apartment didn’t feel empty. It felt hollow. Like Alex took the air with him when Sloane dragged him out. Seraph stayed on the floor for a long time. The phone buzzed again in her hand. She didn’t look. She knew what it would say. More photos. More threats. Elena’s way of saying *you’re next*. Her palm hurt. She opened her fist. The flash drive was still there. Warm from her sweat. Data that could end Tradefare. Data that got Alex cuffed. The knife lay ten feet away, blade sunk into the floorboard from where Alex drove it down. He chose not to. He chose her. And Elena punished him for it. Seraph stood. Her legs shook. She crossed the room and pulled the knife from the wood. It came free with a sound like tearing. She set it on the table. Didn’t touch the blade. Didn’t want to know if her hands would shake too. Her
Author POV Sloane didn’t lower the gun. “Alex. Last chance. Drop the knife.” Alex didn’t blink. He didn’t turn. The knife stayed an inch above his leg, blade catching light from the kitchen. Three feet between him and Seraph. Two feet between him and Sloane behind him. Seraph’s heart was so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. The flash drive bit into her palm. The phone in her other hand buzzed again. Elena. Always Elena. “Alex,” Seraph whispered. His name felt wrong in her mouth now. Like saying it might break something. “Don’t.” “I’m not,” he said. But he didn’t drop the knife either. His eyes stayed locked on hers. “I’m not making you choose, Seraph. I’m making myself.” Sloane shifted her weight in the doorway. “Alex, she has backup outside. If you hurt her, you don
Author POV The apartment was quiet after Amplified. Too quiet. Seraph sat on Alex’s couch, the flash drive warm in her palm. Data that could burn Tradefare. Data that made her a target.Alex was in the kitchen. Water ran in the sink. The sound of a knife scraping against a cutting board. Slow. He’d been quiet since they got back. Quieter than usual.Seraph’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. Unknown number. She almost ignored it. Ronan used unknown numbers. But something made her pick it up.The message had no text. Just a photo. Alex. Two hours ago. Standing across the street from her building. Hood up, hands in pockets. Watching her window. The timestamp glowed in the corner: 11:47 PM. Right after the warehouse. Right before he knocked on her door.Under the photo, three words: *She has the drive. Finalize it tonight or I will send the photos of your sister to the police.*Seraph’s
Seraph I took my eyes away from his. He was watching me, studying me, trying to find a crack in something I've been building for five damn years. "You're the woman who made him beg you at the parking lot for five minutes." Those words Melanie said made my hand tighten on the pen firmly. Brian n
Seraph The sound echoed through my apartment. Slow. Deliberate. Not the frantic banging of a delivery guy. Not the rhythm of Sloane when she forgets her keys. Three knocks. It paused. Like the person knew I was listening. My phone was still in my hand. The text glowed on the screen. "Welcome home
Seraph The restaurant Brian chose was the kind of place that whispered money. Glass walls, soft jazz, waiters who remembered your name before you said it. I walked in wearing heels again. Not the ones Elena mocked. These were mine. Red -soled, sharp, unapologetic. My reflection in the glass doors
Seraph FIVE YEARS LATER I stared at the email on my laptop screen, fingers hovering over the reply button. The company of the man who called me unfit wanted me to meet. Why? Five years had passed since I walked out of that house, left the heels behind and stopped apologizing for existing. I'd b







