Chapter 51
Seraphina
The morning sun filters through a gap in the blackout curtains, painting a golden stripe across Callum’s bare chest. His arm is draped around me, heavy with sleep and something more—something I can’t name without my voice cracking.
We hadn’t spoken much after. Words felt unnecessary in the dark. Now, in the silence of this unfamiliar safehouse, it’s like the world is holding its breath.
I trace slow, featherlight shapes across his collarbone, committing him to memory—not because I plan to leave again, but because everything about this moment feels temporary. Fragile. A bubble of peace in the middle of a war.
He stirs under my touch. “You’re staring.”
“You’re warm.”
Callum’s eyes open, those endless dark-brown irises locking onto mine. “You’re worried.”
I nod.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “We should get up.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, but I stay curled against him for a few seconds longer. Just a few.
Emerson is already at the table when we walk into the main room, coffee in one hand, laptop in the other. His eyes flick to me, and for a second, I think I catch the ghost of a smile before it vanishes into the grim set of his jaw.
“We cracked the last string of encrypted files,” he says. “You’ll want to sit for this.”
A map glows on the screen—Facility E. The layout is sprawling, far larger than the previous base. Multi-levels. Labs. Containment zones. But it’s not the size that makes my stomach twist into knots—it’s the list beneath it.
My name. Over and over again. Subject: Seraphina Vex. Viability: Optimal. Strain: Unstable. Replication Potential: High.
I freeze. “What the hell is this?”
Emerson doesn’t answer right away. It’s Callum who reaches for my hand beneath the table, grounding me.
“They weren’t just experimenting on your mother,” Emerson says quietly. “They were building something around you. You weren’t just an asset to them, Sera. You were the foundation.”
A thick pressure builds in my chest. My DNA. My blood. That’s what they needed. That’s why Langston wanted me alive. Not to protect me. Not to finish my mother’s work. To use me. The way they used her.
“No one else gets hurt because of me,” I say, standing. “This ends now.”
“We agree,” Callum says carefully. “But you’re not going in.”
I whip around. “Excuse me?”
He stands too, slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal. “You’ve done enough. You’ve risked enough. We have what we need. Let us take the shot.”
“No,” I say, voice shaking. “You don’t get to sideline me, Callum. Not after everything.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to stand with me. ”
He looks away. I hate that look—the one where he shuts himself off because emotions are inconvenient, messy, and untrained.
I step closer, forcing him to meet my gaze. “I have a responsibility. This started with my mother, but it ends with me. I’m the key? Fine. Then I’m walking through that door with the rest of you, and I’m locking it behind me.”
His jaw clenches. “You could die.”
“We all could,” I say. “But if I sit this out and they win? That’s worse.”
There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for doubt to creep in—but then he nods once, tight and controlled. “Then we do it together.”
Emerson pushes back from the table. “Plan’s already in motion. We leave at dusk.”
I turn back to the screen and stare at the map again. I don’t feel brave. I feel necessary. For the first time in my life, I’m not running from the monster. I’m walking straight into its lair—with fire in my veins and a weaponized truth in my blood.