John X Seraphina Novels & Stories

Yours — always a little too much, Seraphina

He walked towards her and spoke. "Follow me inside, " Hearing his voice, Seraphina downcast her eyes. He turned a little frustrated with her silent treatment but spoke nothing and just walked inside his house and she also wordlessly followed him. Seraphina followed his steps and stepped inside that house . She showed no interest in looking at the beautiful and classy decor and interior of that mansion surrounding her . She just looked down at the floor, until. "She's Seraphina Miller , " Seraphina heard him telling someone and then she felt a presence coming closer to her.

TRISTAN “Have you seen the news?” I lifted my eyes from the document on my screen when Seraphina stormed into my study. She looked… shaken. “What news?” I asked, as she fidgeted around with her phone. There was something wild in her eyes that I couldn’t exactly make out and her voice was trembling as she spoke. She didn’t answer immediately, as I watched as she crossed the room in quick strides and shoved her phone toward me. “Look.” She demanded,

"How long have you been a parasite inside my son's council, cultist?" "Since the day the false king Ryan died," Jaxon sneered, stepping forward. "The Cult has eyes everywhere, Goddess. We knew you would return. A mother can never truly abandon her pups, can she? Your glamour is pathetic to those of us who swim in the deep dark." "If you know who I am," Seraphina said, dropping her hand to her side, allowing the tiniest spark of silver starlight to dance across her fingertips, "then you know how easily I can erase you from this reality."

Caleb, newly engaged and suddenly brave, stood smugly behind her. ​"My Lord Alpha," Seraphina began, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I am Seraphina. I just want to offer my deepest pity on your... unfortunate circumstances. To be so brave, so strong, and now confined to that chair..." She reached out as if to touch his arm. ​It was the perfect move of a social climber: offering pity to win favor. She expected him to be grateful. ​Ronan didn't move. He didn’t even look at her.

"And the wolf missed. It only tore my sleeve." Jaxon let out a loud, mocking laugh. "You are a terrible liar. Kael might be too proud to notice, but I am not. You have a secret power. A human who can heal herself in seconds? That is a very valuable tool." "Take your hands off me, Jaxon," Seraphina hissed as he reached out and touched a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger. She raised the silver brush, pointing the heavy handle at his face. "I will strike you."

"Why would I trust a single word from the woman who handed my husband his microphone yesterday?" "You wouldn't." Seraphina smiled. "Which is why I'm not going to ask you to. I'm going to prove it." She studied me a moment longer — the way a card player studies a final hand — and whatever she saw seemed to settle something in her. "I went into this looking for the thread that unravels you," she said. "That's how I was raised. You find the loose end of a person, and you hold it, and they belong to you. I'm very good at it. I found yours in an afternoon." Her smile faded entirely. "And then I pulled it, expecting to watch you come apart — and instead I came apart. Because the thread wasn't your

Seraphina pov I couldn’t breathe, my chest was tightening and yet I could still hear their mocking voices. My back pressed against the cold wall as their voices drifted through the half-open door, each word slicing deeper than the last. The ultrasound report lay at my feet, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up. Not when my entire marriage was being torn apart in real time. Selena’s mocking laugh cut through the air. “Poor Seraphina. Always fluttering around you like a desperate little moth. Did you see the way she lights up whenever you give her the tiniest bit of attention? It’s actually pathetic.”

I hung up without answering. I walked to the dresser and pulled out a burner phone. I scrolled through the photos Marcus had sent earlier—surveillance shots of Adrian Vale and a woman , probably his mistress. The man was a pig, a narcissistic middle-manager playing at being a king. But Seraphina? She was the surprise. She had walked into this room trembling, yet she had left with her head held high, thinking she had finally taken control of her life. She thought this was a one-time rebellion. A single night of fire to keep her warm in that ice palace of a marriage.

Is this the moon goddess’s way of punishing me for killing my own fated mate? Isn't cursing my pack not enough? Gently, I shift her hands, placing them properly over her belly. I walk back to my study, keeping my movements quiet. My fingers trace the familiar lock on the shelf. It opens, revealing what I’ve been keeping hidden. I wouldn't want anyone to see how I've been piling up every single publication Seraphina made ever since she was ten. For seven years now, I think. My hands linger over the spines, brushing over the pages as if I could absorb a part of her life through touch alone.