Chapter 45
SERAPHINA
1 wake up choking on my own breath
The moment consciousness dams into me, it brings the weight of land with My cheese may de feels two sizes too small, and my stomach charne biz i willowed aid to exantly why.
I lied, I fucking lied
The words rot inside me, festering like an open wound. I don’t know why 1 expected to feet Banter der derging offe guilt is something you can just sweat out overnight. No, it’s here to say, curling up in my ribs, growing may destr parasite.
The worst part is that no one even questioned me. Not Kallias. Not the pack even took–theath, to be ter he looked half a second away from ripping my throat out. And maybe I deserved i
No. I do deserve it.
I should’ve told them. I should’ve told him.
But I didn’t. And now, my silence tastes like blood in my mouth.
The morning light slices through the window, too sharp, too exposing. The moment my eyes open, I know–dery didn’t erase a damn thing. Taryn is still gone. And I let them believe I don’t know where she is. My body protests as I push myself up, every muscle aching from exhaustion and whatever bruises I picked up on the way back. My dress from yesterday is will stained, torn at the hem. I don’t even remember kicking it off before collapsing onto the bed.
The thought makes me sick. I shove off the suffocating blankets, my movements jerky, and swing my legs off the bed. The moment my bare feet touch the cold floor, I’m up and moving. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to do something Anything but sit here and let my own mind tear me apart.
I make it halfway across the room before I catch my reflection in the mirror.
Jesus Christ.
My hair’s a tangled disaster, my face pale, dark circles bruising the skin beneath my eyes. I look like someone who’s been through hell and barely crawled back. And maybe I have. But I know, deep down, it’s not from what was done to me.
It’s from what I did.
The packhouse is quiet when I step into the hallway, but my pulse isn’t. It pounds, erratic, drowning out everything else. I don’t know where I’m going until I’m already moving.
My legs carry me before my mind can stop them.
Straight to him.
***
Enoch and Taryn’s room is at the end of the hall, tucked away into the Omega’s hall quarters. The door is closed, but the energy behind it hums, vibrating with something sharp–edged and volatile.
I don’t knock. I can’t. My hand is already on the handle, and before I can think twice, I push the door open.
I stop.
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The room is wrecked.
Shredded curtains hang in strips, fluttering weakly in the morning breeze. The bed—what’s left of it–is overturned, one of the wooden posts snapped clean in half. My eyes land on deep claw marks gouging the walls, the floor, the furniture. Splinters, broken glass, torn fabric–destruction clutters every inch of the space.
And in the middle of it all, standing like a statue carved from ruin, is Enoch.
His back is to me, muscles drawn so tight they might snap. His hands hang loose at his sides, but his fingers twitch, like they want to curl into fists. His breathing is deep. Too deep.
As though he’s trying to hold something back.
Like he’s failing.
I don’t make a sound, but he knows I’m here.
Slowly, he turns.
Crimson eyes meet mine. Not hazy, not unfocused, not distant the way they usually are.
No.
This is something else.
This is clarity.
“Where is she?”
The words are low, even, but they don’t need volume to hit like a fucking wrecking ball.
My throat dries.
His voice–this voice–isn’t the one that used to slur and stumble over words. It isn’t the fragmented, lost sound of a man trying to remember how to exist as Taryn coddled him to be, like an amnesiac man.
It’s something sharper. Heavier. Somehow feeling a blade pressed against skin.
“W–what?” My own voice betrays me, shaking, stuttering like a fucking idiot.
His
eyes don’t blink.
“Where. Is. She,”
I step back, but my body hits the doorframe. I can’t move.
This isn’t Enoch.
This isn’t the pathetic, amnesiac stray that Taryn used to drag around as a wounded pet.
This is something else. Something terrifying.
And for the first time since I came back, I realize-
Taryn isn’t here to hold him back anymore.
His stare is fucking terrifying.
It’s not just anger–anger is predictable. Manageable. No, this is something else entirely. Something ancient and lethal
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simmering beneath the surface, ready to snap my neck like a goddamn twig
I knew he’d be furious. I knew he’d be out for blood.
But I didn’t expect this.
“Where,” he demands, voice guttural, barely more than a smarl. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. Ife simply stands there. a living, breathing executioner, waiting for my next words to decide if he’ll spare me.
I want to lie again. It’s instinct. Self–preservation to avoid anything dangerous. But my mouth betrays me before I can even think.
“She’s—” I swallow hard, my throat dry as hell. “She’s taken.”
Silence.
And then I regret every single life decision that brought me here because Enoch fucking moves.
Before I can even process it, I’m airborne, spine colliding with the wall so hard the impact knocks the breath straight out of me. His hand wraps around my throat, pressing just enough to warn, to terrify, but not quite enough to cut off air. Not yet.
“How long?” The words are quiet, but they carry the murmurs of a thousand fucking deaths.
I claw at his wrist, gasping, but there’s no escape. His grip tightens, and my pulse pounds beneath his fingers, a frantic drumbeat of terror.
T–three days ago when I–I first arrived-” I choke out, vision blurring.
A sound rumbles from deep within his chest, something primal and deadly. Then-
He drops me.
I hit the floor hard, coughing, sucking in air like it’s the first time I’ve ever breathed. My hands shake as I press them against. the cold stone, trying to ground myself, trying to ignore the way my entire body is trembling.
Enoch stands over me, breathing ragged, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. His entire body radiates fury, the kind that isn’t loud or reckless–it’s controlled. Deadly. The kind of rage that doesn’t just hurt. It destroys.
“If anything-” his voice wavers, cracking under his sheer restraint, “if she’s hurt–if she’s dead-”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.
I already know exactly what he’s capable of.
And I believe him.
He turns, storming out of the room like a goddamn force of nature, and I know-
I’ve just set the world on fire.
**
I step out of Enoch’s room, my heart on fire. But it burned even more when I saw whose eyes I didn;t expect to meet witing outside the halls.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“K–kallias?” I called but his stare tells me everything I need to know. He heard everything.
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He knows I lied back then.
“You disgust me.” He murmurs and my heart drops as he leaves.
No… No.
My legs give out before I can stop them, knees slamming into the cold hardwood floor. The sting barely registers through the way my heart is pounding, erratic and loud, a goddamn war drum in my ears.
Taryn trusted you.
He didn’t yell it, nor did he throw accusations or call me a selfish bitch like I expected him to. No. That would’ve been easier. I could’ve snapped back, given him that smug smirk I wear like armor and told him, ‘Oh, please. Spare me the lecture: But he didn’t. He just looked at me as though I was something beneath his fucking shoe. Something not even worth getting angry at.
And it wrecks me.
Because for the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say.
A shaky breath rips out of me, and my fingers curl into my dress, gripping the fabric like it might hold me together. My eyes sting, hot and unbearable, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not here. Not where anyone can see.
The hallway is empty now, but the silence is suffocating. It presses in, heavy with something I can’t name. Guilt? Fuck, I don’t even know. I just know that I need to move before I lose the last shred of composure I have left.
I force myself up, legs wobbling like I’ve never used them before, and stumble down the hall. My body moves on autopilot, muscle memory dragging me towards my room. I shove the door open and collapse onto the bed, burying my face into my hands.
The worst part isn’t that I lied.
The worst part is that, for a second, I thought I’d get away with it.
Maybe they would finally choose me before her.
I thought I’d walk into Enoch’s room, drop my little half–assed ‘sorry, and maybe–just maybe–he’d be too fucking out of it to care. Maybe I’d still get to keep my place, my security, my goddamn life.
But then he looked at me.
I want to scream.
I want to rip this dress off, tear it apart as if it’s the reason for everything. I want to throw something, anything, just to hear the sound of it shattering, because maybe that would be better than this choking, all–consuming silence.
But I don’t. Because none of that will fix what I’ve done.
A choked laugh bubbles out of me, sharp and bitter. “Fuck me,” I whisper to no one, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I really screwed myself this time, didn’t I?”
No answer. Of course not.
I drag in a shaky breath, lifting my head, and force myself to look at my reflection in the mirror across the room. My face is blotchy, my makeup smudged, my eyes red–rimmed and swollen. I look like the mess I feel inside. And for the first time, I
wonder-
Was this always where I was going to end up?
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Can’t they choose me over her this time?
