Page 21

21

SERAPHINE

T he message comes through just after midnight. Jackson passed out looking over photos in case we missed something else and I’m still pouring over my books looking for a way to break this bind without killing one, or both, of us.

It’s the burner number. Encrypted thread. It has to be Lio, the shifter kid we saved.

I found something. You’re not gonna like it. But you need to see it. 47th & Lockridge. Basement level. Come alone if you can. They watch the exits.

There’s no context. No emojis. Just dread.

My skin prickles with it.

I glance over at Jackson, asleep on the couch, sprawled sideways like he lost a wrestling match with gravity. His arm’s thrown over his face, shirt halfway up his ribs, gun still holstered at his side.

He looks peaceful. It makes me not want to wake him, knowing it may be the last time he feels it.

I text back: Will check out. Check in with you after.

Reluctantly, I go over and kneel beside him and brush his messy hair away before whispering, “Hey, we gotta go. Beauty sleep is over.”

The building is an old maintenance facility—or was, once. Now it’s just bones. A crumbling brick husk off Lockridge, wrapped in fences and fake permits.

Jackson and I don’t talk much on the way.

Too much tension. Too much shared air. The bond pulses faintly between us, like it’s listening. Waiting. Loud enough that neither of us really needs to talk.

Lio’s already there when we arrive, cloaked in shadow, crouched low against the side of the building like a kid waiting to be punished.

“I told you to stay away,” I hiss as we slide into the alley beside him.

“I know ,” he snaps back, wild-eyed, teeth glinting under his hood. “But you’re gonna wanna see this for yourself. Besides, they think everyone thinks this is abandoned. They aren’t guarding it very heavily and from what I have seen, no one is back yet.”

Jackson’s voice is steel. “This better not be a setup again.”

“It’s not, I learned how to cover my trail from last time,” Lio says, deadly serious. “I was hiding down here to get out of the weather earlier when I saw a couple guys with PEACE tags come out of the basement. They looked... wrong. Clean, but wrong. One of them had a Black Sun rune tattooed behind his ear. I followed them. They didn’t see me. Not human. Not trained.”

I trade a look with Jackson.

“Show us,” I say.

We sneak in through the back. The building’s dead—lights off, wards worn thin from lack of care. The front’s all for show. But the sub-basement?

That’s another story.

It smells like spells and steel and something burnt so long it’s become part of the concrete.

Lio cracks the lock on a side panel, and we crawl down rusted steps into a dim hallway lit by flickering green light.

What I see at the end makes my heart stop.

Glass. Rows of it. Tanks.

Each one with a figure floating inside. Pale skin. Magical scars carved into their bodies. Runes bleeding ink. Eyes shut. Mouths open like they were screaming when they went under.

Witches. In every single tank. Some old. Some young. Some not even conscious.

“They’re experimenting,” I whisper. I look over the hook ups and can only assume one thing, especially if Black Sun is involved. “Trying to extract raw primordial energy. Turn us into batteries. ”

Jackson mutters a curse, his face tight. “These are PEACE labs.”

“No,” Lio says. “They were . Black Sun owns them now from what I have seen. Bought out the right people. Silenced the rest I assume.”

I press a hand to the glass of the nearest tank.

The girl inside is no older than sixteen.

And her aura is ripped open. Her power siphoned, sutured, drained into glowing tubes that disappear into the wall.

My pulse roars in my ears.

“They’re trying to recreate me, ” I say. “Piece by piece. If they can’t have me... they’ll make one.”

Jackson pulls out his phone and starts snapping pictures. “This ends tonight. ”

“You’re going public?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m the crazy one.

“This is a goddamn genocide in progress. I don’t care who I piss off.”

“PEACE will bury you.”

“According to you, I’m a dead man already,” he mutters. “Might as well make it count.”

Lio’s hands are shaking, but his voice is steady. “I’ll leak it. I’ve got friends who push through the underground, make things go viral before they can be scrubbed.”

Jackson nods. “Good. Make sure they do.”

We gather as much as we can—photos, footage, physical evidence. But I’m shaking.

Not from fear. From fury. Because I know what this means.

They’ve already linked Jackson to me. They know the bond has sealed. They’ve seen it. That trap at the runewell wasn’t just about forcing it—it was about confirming it worked.

And this lab? It’s a failsafe. A backup plan in case I refuse to be their weapon.

If they can’t use me, they’ll make another. Or ten. Until every witch is bled dry.

Outside, under the moon, I lean against the hood of Jackson’s car and breathe in cold, sharp air after Lio takes off with the intel.

He stands beside me, quiet. Controlled.

“You good?” he asks after a long moment.

“No. But I will be.”

He nods once. Doesn’t push.

The bond pulses faintly.

I look at him—and it’s like something deep inside me aches.

“Thank you,” I say, softer than I mean to. “For... staying.”

He shrugs. “You really think I’m the type to bail now?”

“You’ve got every reason to.”

“Maybe,” he says, stepping a little closer. “But I’ve got one really good reason not to.”

Our eyes lock and for once, neither of us looks away.