Page 23

23

LIORA

B y the time we get back to Dante’s loft, my skin still hums with leftover rage.

The council’s words echo in my bones like curses carved into stone.

You started this. You’ll end it.

Like I asked to be made this way. Like I chose to be born a forgeable weapon of destruction in lace and ash, hunted by monsters and wielded by men in robes who think old magic gives them the right to wash their hands clean.

I didn’t ask for any of it.

But that doesn’t matter now.

I drop onto Dante’s couch without ceremony, pulling the blanket from its usual place and wrapping it around my shoulders like armor made of flannel and exhaustion. I don’t speak. I can’t. Not without screaming.

Dante watches me from the kitchen, leaning one hip against the counter, arms crossed, expression unreadable but eyes—those sharp gray eyes—soft with pity and it pisses me off even more because it’s me who should feel bad. I knew the risks and fell anyway. This is all happening because of me.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter eventually, not sure why. “You stood up for me. All I gave you was a front-row seat to your official ‘rogue’ label.”

He moves without a word, crosses the space, and sits beside me. Close enough to feel his warmth.

“Don’t care about labels,” he says simply.

“You should, especially since you work for PEACE.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But I don’t. And to be clear, I work with them, not for them.”

I look at him. Really look at him. The scuffed jaw. The way he carries himself like a man who’s been broken more than once but still chooses to stand.

“I don’t deserve you,” I say, quieter than I mean to.

He turns to face me fully, one hand finding mine under the blanket. “Yeah, well. You’ve got me anyway. And who decides what we deserve? I think that’s one of the only things we are in control of.”

And fuck me if that doesn’t break something in my chest.

Again.

Later, in his bed, wrapped in the scent of leather and the faint promise of rain, I lie still while his breathing evens beside me. He’s asleep within minutes, one arm thrown over my waist, keeping me tucked close.

I pretend I’m calm. That the warmth of his body is enough to make the fear go quiet.

It’s not.

My eyes won’t close.

My mind won’t stop.

Because something’s coming. I feel it. A ripple behind the Veil. A coldness outlining my thoughts.

When sleep finally takes me, it’s not kind.

The dream slams into me like a cold wind through shattered glass.

I’m back in the in-between.

Only this time, it’s different.

The world here isn’t quiet. It’s howling.

Ash rains from a sky that bleeds red. Trees twist like they’re screaming, black and hollow. The ground cracks beneath my feet, pulsing with shadows that crawl like veins under skin.

And then he’s there.

Seraphiel.

And it’s not just his voice I hear or his presence I feel, but actually him. Tall. Beautiful. Terrifying. Those spectral wings stretch behind him, flickering in and out of sight. His golden eyes glow with that quiet madness that coats every word he speaks like honey over poison.

He smiles. My stomach churns.

“Did you think you could hide him from me?”

His voice slides across my skin like silk wrapped in glass.

“I didn’t bring him into this,” I say, fists clenched. “You dragged him here.”

“You brought him the moment you touched him.”

I look away.

He steps closer.

“You burned bright when you let him inside you. Did you feel it, little star? That spark ? That was mine. You lit it in my name.”

“No,” I whisper. “That was mine. That was ours. ”

“You’re wrong.” His voice sharpens, almost cruel now. “Everything you are belongs to me. Every shadow. Every drop of magic in your cursed blood. Every ache. Every moan.”

I shudder. My magic twists, screaming inside my veins.

He tilts his head, voice softening into something far more dangerous.

“Come back to me, Liora. I’ll spare him. You have my word.”

“I don’t want your word.”

“But you want him alive.”

That shuts me up.

He smiles again, slow and full of teeth.

“Return to me willingly,” he says. “Or the next time you sleep, I’ll show you how your guardian dies. Inch by inch. Vein by vein.”

The sky cracks behind him. A sound like a thousand screams woven into thunder.

He lifts a hand, as if to touch my face, and?—

I wake up gasping .

Dante’s arm tightens instinctively around me. “Liora—hey—hey, I’ve got you.” His voice is still thick with sleep, but panic sharpens it fast.

“I saw him,” I breathe, shaking. “He was in my dream. He knows, Dante. He knows everything. ”

Dante’s already sitting up, hand on my back, grounding me. “What did he say?”

“He gave me an ultimatum. If I don’t return—he kills you.”

His eyes darken. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” I snap. “He will kill you. And he’ll make me watch.”

Dante grabs my face gently but firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Look at me. I’m not scared of him.”

“Well, I am,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Because I just got you. And I can’t lose you.”

He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Remember earlier? We can do this. We can stop this together. You are more powerful than you know, than even he knows. Especially when we are together.”

I lean into him, heart still hammering.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tighter than the fear. But even wrapped in Dante, the darkness still lingers in the corners of my mind. Because Seraphiel doesn’t bluff.

And he never loses.