Chapter 26
Seraphina
You’d never know what I did last night by the way I walked through the front doors of Blackdawn HQ this morning.
Heels sharp. Spine straighter. Coffee in hand, like I didn’t slit a man’s throat twelve hours ago.
The receptionist barely looked up—just offered a half-smile that slid off her face when she caught my expression. Not cold, not angry. Just... still.
My usual mask.
I made it all the way to my office without incident before the summons came through.
A knock on the glass wall. “Your father wants you in his office. Now.”
Of course he does.
I didn’t rush. I made him wait the extra thirty seconds it took to smooth my skirt, sip my coffee, and glance in the mirror to ensure nothing in my eyes gave me away. Not guilt, not nerves—just a cool detachment that came with knowing something no one else in the building did.
By the time I opened the door to his office, Dominic Vex was already pacing like a tiger in a too-small cage .
“Close the door.”
Click.
“You know what that fucking rat Damon Vale has done?” His voice boomed, but I didn’t flinch.
I’d grown up with the sound of fury in this room.
“He’s a traitor. Been feeding scraps to our rivals for months.
Slipping information through some burner chain—stupid prick left a trail wide as a fuckin’ freeway. ”
I leaned against the door and blinked, slow. “Really?”
He stopped pacing, narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play coy.”
“I’m not. I just… tried telling you more than once how big of a jackass he was.” I shrugged, like this wasn’t the most satisfying moment of my life. “You always said you’d do what you want. Maybe it’s time you noticed I’ve been in this company my entire life. Trained by you, nonetheless.”
That landed.
I saw it in the tick of his jaw. The way his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek like it was holding back something bitter.
He didn’t apologize. Of course not. Dominic Vex didn’t do apologies.
He just turned away, muttering, “It’s handled. You’ll be looped into clean-up as needed.”
And just like that, the moment was over. He steamrolled past my statement, because admitting he was wrong meant admitting weakness.
But I didn’t need an apology .
I had blood on my hands and power in my chest. That was enough.
I excused myself with a tight smile and returned to my office, not bothering to close the door behind me.
I sat at my desk and let the buzz of the building fade into the background as I pulled up a list of flagged entries in our system—cases I’d tagged for deeper investigation but hadn’t yet had time to dive into.
One name blinked back at me like a loose thread begging to be tugged.
Kieran Ward. Seventeen. Reported missing from a juvenile detention center in Chicago six weeks ago.
Not missing.
Vanished.
Arrested for assaulting an officer during a raid on a trafficking ring. But the real story was buried deeper.
The boy had been trying to smuggle out two girls—just kids—hidden in a locked storage closet during the sweep. Took a bullet to the leg and still got both of them out alive.
They called him unstable in the report.
What I saw was something else.
Potential.
I’d flagged the file weeks ago, intending to circle back, but everything with Damon and Callum had swallowed up the time. Now, as I stared at the boy’s too-young face on the screen, I wondered if he was even still alive.
And if he was… I wondered if Callum would be interested.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Not today. Not yet. But soon.
This… this could be something.
I let the screen dim as I leaned back in my chair, lips curling ever so slightly.
Tonight, I’d tell Callum about Dominic’s reaction and maybe I’d tell him about Kieran.
But for now? I just kept sipping my coffee like I didn’t already know exactly how much power I was holding.
The second I stepped into the safehouse, the scent of coffee and gun oil wrapped around me like a second skin.
But it wasn’t that that made my heart warm.
It was him.
Callum was standing near the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty mug in one hand, and a gun cleaning kit laid out on the table. His dark hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it again. He looked up as soon as I entered.
And smiled .
Not just any smile— his smile. That private one he didn’t hand out often. The one that made my breath catch and my cheeks ache before I even realized I was grinning too.
“Jesus,” he said, Irish lilting smooth and teasing, “what’s got that gorgeous smile on yer face, huh? I almost feel sorry for whoever’s on the other end of it.”
I closed the door behind me, lips stretching wider. “I told off Dominic.”
Callum raised a brow and set his mug down, stepping toward me, his attention sharpening like a blade. “ Ya what? ”
I dropped my bag by the couch, still buzzing from the memory.
“He called me into his office to rant about Damon Vale being a traitorous piece of shit—which, duh, we already knew—but then I got to look him straight in the face and say ‘I tried telling you more than once how big of a jackass he was.’ And then, ‘Maybe you should notice I’ve been in this company my entire life. Trained by you, nonetheless.’ ”
Callum let out a bark of laughter, eyes crinkling. “ That’s the power I’m talkin’ about.” He stepped in closer, brushing a hand lightly down my arm. “The power of a queen.”
God, I loved the way he said that. Like it wasn’t a compliment—it was a fact.
I felt warmth rise in my chest, tempered only by the weight of something else sitting in the back of my mind.
“I… may have found something that might be useful,” I said, slower now. “I haven’t had the chance to look into it yet, but…”
Callum didn’t interrupt. Didn’t press. He just went still—focused. That look he got when something serious was on the table. Not wary, but dialed in.
I took a breath.
“Kieran Ward. Seventeen. Went missing from a juvenile detention center in Chicago six weeks ago. Arrested for assaulting a cop during a trafficking raid, but that’s not what caught my eye.”
I walked over to the table and pulled out my phone, flipping it around to show him the boy’s photo on the screen.
“He was trying to get two girls out. They were locked in a back room. He took a bullet to the leg and still didn’t stop. Got both girls out alive.”
Callum’s eyes dropped to the screen, jaw tightening.
“They called him unstable in the report,” I added. “But I saw something different.”
Callum’s gaze lifted back to mine, voice low. “ Ya saw a fighter. ”
I nodded. “I saw someone who didn’t run.”
Silence stretched between us—comfortable, heavy with potential.
“I don’t know if he’s alive,” I said. “But if he is…”
“If he is,” Callum murmured, “then he might already be one of ours. ”
I didn’t smile this time. Not yet. But my heart beat just a little faster .
I slid into the chair beside Callum, feeling the heat of him at my side even before our arms brushed. His scent—gunmetal, cedar, and something that had no name but always wrapped around me like safety—settled me instantly.
He tilted the laptop toward me. “You take the mainframe,” he said. “I’ll trace public logs and surveillance. We’ll meet in the middle.”
I cracked my knuckles, grinning. “Let’s see how deep this goes.”
Fingers flew over the keys as I rerouted my access through an old Blackdawn backdoor.
One I’d left myself years ago, before Dominic started locking down his files tighter than his emotions.
Once inside, I pulled up the sealed documents tied to the Chicago juvenile detention center—hacking into protected court records wasn’t new to me, but there was something different this time.
Maybe it was the way Callum kept glancing at me between searches like I was made of gold and blood and power.
Or maybe it was the file.
The one they hadn’t meant for anyone to see.
“Got something,” I muttered. “It’s not just suppression. There’s a separate clearance log—someone flagged Kieran as a non-viable risk to testify. That’s code for: make him disappear.”
Callum’s hand stilled on the mouse. “Meaning someone made sure he wouldn’t talk again.”
I nodded slowly. “Or is still trying to.”
He reached for his phone, already prepping a message for Reaper, our ever-creepy hacker friend. “I want every camera feed from that facility the night he vanished. If he made it out, someone saw somethin’. Even if they wiped it—I want the ghosts of it.”
I watched him, feeling that same warm, wild pride I always did when he took something that seemed impossible and cracked it open like it was just another puzzle. No fear. No hesitation.
Just fire.
“I’ll cross-reference the med centers in a ten-mile radius,” I said. “If he was shot, he would’ve needed a hospital, even for a quick stitch job. Someone patched him up.”
Callum looked at me then, eyes steady and sharp. “You think this lad’s worth bringin’ in?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I do. If what he did was real—if he risked his life for those girls when no one else would—he’s already more loyal than half the men we’ve had inside.”
Callum’s smile was slow and lethal. “That’s my girl. Trusts her gut. Follows the scent of war.”
I grinned. “And you trust me.”
“Always.”
We worked side by side for the next hour, locked in that quiet storm we knew so well—two minds built for the shadows, uncovering a thread no one else would dare pull.
And when I finally found it—a blurry camera still from outside a closed urgent care clinic, timestamped four hours after the raid—my heart kicked hard.
There he was .
Limping. Hood up. Bleeding through his jeans, but standing.
Alive.
“I found him,” I breathed.
Callum leaned in close, eyes narrowing. “Now let’s go find out who wants him dead.”