The stranger choked, blood staining his shirt, but he was still alive.
“Bind him,” Lucien ordered.
Ronan moved quickly, and I stood frozen in the middle of the room, heart racing, watching everything collapse in front of me.
CHAPTER 44
Rain had begun falling again sometime after midnight, tapping softly against the tall windows of the hallway like quiet fingers. The estate looked different in the rain. Softer somehow, the sharp lines of the architecture blurred by the steady curtain of water beyond the glass. Outside, the gardens shimmered under dim lights, every leaf and stone glistening beneath the storm.
Sera paused near one of the windows, watching the droplets slide slowly down the glass. Storms had always calmed her. Maybe it was the way rain drowned out the smaller sounds of the world, wrapping everything in a steady rhythm that madethinking easier or maybe it was simply the reminder that even the most powerful storms eventually passed.
Still, tonight her thoughts refused to settle.
Something restless had been building inside her for days. A quiet tension she couldn’t quite explain. The kind that made her senses sharper, her awareness constantly scanning the spaces around her.
It was the same instinct she had begun developing since stepping deeper into this world.
Danger rarely arrived loudly. More often, it crept closer in silence, waiting patiently for the moment someone stopped paying attention.
Sera’s gaze drifted down the long hallway, where dim lights cast pale pools across the marble floor. Guards stood at their usual posts, their silhouettes unmoving but alert. Everything appeared normal and yet that restless feeling refused to disappear.
Somewhere deep in her chest, a quiet voice kept whispering the same warning.
Something was coming and when it finally arrived, nothing would remain the same.
CHAPTER 45
The lower chamber beneath the estate was built for exactly this purpose. Stone walls swallowed sound, thick enough that screams never carried past the iron door at the top of the stairs. The air smelled faintly of metal and disinfectant, a scent that clung to the back of the throat. A grated drain sat in the center of the concrete floor, dark stains permanently etched into the surface around it. Chains hung from hooks in the ceiling, swaying slightly in the cold air, and along the far wall a collection of weapons rested in perfect order, knives, pliers, hammers, a blowtorch, things designed for very specific kinds of persuasion.
Lucien stood a few feet away from the chair bolted into the floor where the Virelli soldier had been restrained. Rope cutinto the man’s wrists and ankles, his head hanging forward as blood dripped slowly from a split lip onto the floor. Ronan leaned casually against the metal table nearby, cleaning under his fingernails with the tip of a knife like they were discussing business over drinks instead of deciding how long this man would live. Lucien rolled the cuff of his black shirt higher along his forearm before finally stepping closer. The man flinched immediately. Lucien noticed that. He noticed everything. Slowly, deliberately, he crouched until their eyes met. Grey eyes meeting terrified brown ones. “You know,” Lucien said quietly, voice smooth as silk over broken glass, “the thing about loyalty… is that it’s very admirable.” His mouth curved slightly. “Until it becomes stupid.”
The man tried to spit at him, but the effort ended in a weak dribble of blood down his chin. Lucien chuckled under his breath, straightening again as if mildly entertained. He walked toward the weapon wall, dragging his fingers across the handles as he passed them, steel glinting under the low hanging lights.
Ronan watched with faint amusement. “Do you want to start gently or skip the warm up?” Ronan asked lazily. Lucien picked up a knife, testing its weight in his hand before turning it between his fingers. “Gentle,” Lucien replied, though the word held no kindness. He stepped back toward the hostage and rested the knife lightly against the man’s cheek, the cold blade pressing just enough to make him freeze. “You broke into my home,” Lucien murmured. “You killed three of my men.” The blade slowly traced downward along the man’s jaw. “And you frightened someone that belongs to me.” That was the part that made Lucien’s voice change, quieter, colder, and dangerous, ina way that made Ronan glance over with interest. Lucien leaned slightly closer. “So here’s what’s going to happen,” he continued softly. “You’re going to tell me who sent you. Every name. Every plan. Every whisper of Virelli business you’ve ever heard.” The knife pressed a little harder until a thin line of blood appeared. Lucien smiled faintly. “Or we start getting creative.”
The interrogation didn’t stay calm for long. The first scream echoed harshly through the chamber when Ronan broke the man’s finger with a pair of pliers. Lucien didn’t rush the process. Pain worked best when it had time to settle in. The drain in the floor slowly began collecting blood as the questioning continued, slow cuts, twisted joints, careful precision meant to keep the man conscious.
Lucien crouched again after a while, resting his forearms casually against his knees as the prisoner gasped for breath. “Still loyal?” Lucien asked, almost amused. The man’s eyes were glassy now, panic creeping through them. Ronan wiped blood from the knife he’d been using and leaned against the table again. “They always think they’re brave until the ninth or tenth minute,” he muttered. Lucien hummed softly in agreement before grabbing the man’s chin and forcing his head up. “Last chance,” Lucien said quietly. “Talk.” The man hesitated, trembling. Lucien straightened slowly, glancing over his shoulder at Ronan. That was the signal. Ronan pushed off the wall with a quiet sigh, like a man reluctantly beginning a boring chore. The knife appeared in his hand so quickly it almost looked like a trick of the light. The prisoner’s eyes widened. “Wait! Wait, I’ll talk” The blade slid cleanly through the man’s pinky finger before the sentence could finish. The scream thatfollowed echoed brutally against the concrete walls. Lucien didn’t flinch. He simply leaned against the table, crossing one ankle over the other as if he were watching a mildly interesting performance.
Then finally the words started spilling out, names, locations, whispers about the Virelli network, half broken sentences spoken through blood and sobbing. “You should’ve started with that,” Ronan muttered dryly. Lucien listened patiently, grey eyes calm and calculating as he memorized every detail. When the man finished, shaking violently, Lucien tilted his head slightly. “See?” he murmured almost kindly. “That wasn’t so difficult.” Ronan raised an eyebrow. “So… what now?” Lucien stood slowly, wiping his hands on a cloth before glancing back down at the broken man tied to the chair. His voice turned soft again. “Now we decide if he’s still useful.
The man in the chair was shaking so badly the metal legs scraped against the concrete every few seconds. The sound grated against Lucien’s nerves like a dull blade. He stood a few feet away, sleeves rolled just enough to expose the strong lines of his forearms, watching the prisoner with quiet, calculating patience. Fear had a scent to it, sharp, sour, unmistakable and the room was thick with it. Ronan leaned casually against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, his pistol hanging loose in his hand as if it weighed nothing.
Lucien preferred this part. Not the killing. Not the blood. The moment right before a man broke. The moment they realized their life depended entirely on how generous Lucien felt thatevening. He stepped forward slowly, the sound of his shoes echoing against the concrete floor, and crouched down until he was level with the man’s eyes. The prisoner tried to hold his gaze for a moment before looking away. Lucien clicked his tongue softly. “No,” he murmured, grabbing the man’s chin and forcing his face back toward him. “You don’t get to look away from me.” His voice was calm, almost gentle, but the grip on the man’s jaw tightened just enough to make him wince. Lucien studied him like a puzzle piece he had already solved. Ronan chuckled under his breath. The man tried to hold out. Lucien almost admired the effort. Almost.
Lucien was just about to speak again when the heavy chamber door opened behind them. The sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, slow, steady, deliberate. Both men turned instinctively. Sera stepped into the room. The soft light caught the edge of the blade already in her hand. Lucien went still. There was something different about her tonight. Something colder. Her grey eyes moved across the room briefly, the blood on the floor, the weapons, the man tied to the chair but she didn’t hesitate.
She walked straight toward them. Ronan pushed himself off the wall with mild curiosity, glancing between her and Lucien. “Boss?” he asked quietly. Lucien didn’t answer. He was watching Sera instead. Watching the calm determination in the way she moved. When she reached the prisoner, the man’s eyes widened in confusion and fear. “Please…” he started weakly. Sera didn’t let him finish. The knife plunged into his throat in one smooth motion. Blood spilled instantly, dark and fast, pouring down his chest and dripping toward the drain in thefloor. “Fuck you,” Sera whispered. The man’s body jerked once before going still. Silence followed. Ronan let out a low whistle under his breath.
Lucien stared at the body for a moment before slowly looking back at her. His expression wasn’t anger. If anything, it was something darker, something dangerously impressed. He stepped closer until he was standing right in front of her. “You just killed my hostage,” he said quietly. Sera didn’t look afraid of him. Not even a little. “You already had what you needed,” she replied calmly. Ronan chuckled softly behind them. Lucien studied her for another moment before reaching out and taking the knife gently from her hand. His fingers brushed hers briefly. “Next time,” he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear, “warn me first.” Then a faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “But I have to admit…” His grey eyes darkened slightly, “that was beautiful.”
CHAPTER 46
Sera didn’t remember walking through the halls.
One moment she had been in the lower chamber, watching the life drain from the man she’d just killed. The next she was standing outside Lucien’s office door, her pulse still pounding in her ears like distant thunder.
Her knuckles brushed the dark wood once before she pushed the door open.
