Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Seraphina
Fallout – UNSECRET, Neoni
The world outside the car dissolves into noise and movement. What had at a time been wonder and sparkling lights, has twisted into oppressive walls leaning in, crowding me, making me feel claustrophobic.
Everything blurs.
The city. The streets. The endless stretch of Las Vegas flashing past the tinted windows.
I barely register any of it. My body is here, pressed into the leather seat, Trey’s hand wrapped tightly around mine, his thumb moving in slow, grounding strokes over my skin, but my mind is still back there—on the pavement, under the weight of those voices, beneath the echo of their venomous words sinking into my skin.
I try to steady my breathing. I try to stop the tremor that won’t leave my hands.
I fail.
It’s subtle. Barely noticeable. But it’s there, threading through me, tightening in my chest, crawling under my skin. Fear. Real, consuming fear. The kind that doesn’t fade when the danger passes because it never really passes at all.
I thought I had been steeling myself, my resolve, but that many strangers with so much ire toward me, makes me feel ill.
I shift slightly, pressing closer into Trey’s side without thinking, like proximity alone might stop the spiral before it drags me under completely. He doesn’t say anything, but his arm tightens around me instantly, pulling me in, his body solid and warm and unyielding at my side.
Safe.
He feels like safety.
Even when everything else is falling apart.
The car slows.
I barely notice at first, lost somewhere between memory and panic, until the movement changes and the engine quiets, and the vehicle rolls to a smooth stop.
An airstrip.
Private. Isolated.
The door opens, and one of Niko’s men steps out first, scanning the surroundings with sharp, practiced precision before stepping aside. Cool air spills in. The distant hum of aircraft. The faint echo of voices. Chace.
He slides into the SUV in one controlled movement, shutting the door behind him as his presence fills the space in a way that shifts the air entirely. There’s nothing casual about him now. Nothing easy. Whatever mask he wears most of the time—it’s gone.
His eyes flick to Trey. Then to me. Then back again.
Something cold settles in my stomach.
“I’ve got information,” he says, cutting clean through the lingering noise in my head.
I can feel the tension in Trey. His reassuring touch, pauses. “I really hope it’s a location for that pussy ass preacher.”
Chace leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, he breathes deep, slow, trying to compose himself, for whatever revelation or news he has been holding onto.
“This isn’t just about Gideon,” he says.
My breath catches.
“What do you mean?” Trey asks, his tone calm.
“We have been keeping an eye out for him, same as Sera, but when he hadn’t appeared, we thought it meant that he was off the grid in a compound or something, or even abroad, but no…We got a tip. He was not using private security,” he continues. “He’s using the Orlova network.”
The name means nothing to me.
“What does this mean for Gideon, for us?”
“It means we know who’s protecting him, the matriarch, Galina Orlova.”
“Okay…”
“So why is she putting her neck out for Gideon? She a follower or something?”
“No, she’s Russian Orthodox…which means…”
“She’s using Sera, me, to get to your family?”
Chace nods. Slow.
“My father has been making moves. She might be throwing Gideon in our face to open talks…or…”
“Or?”
“Figuring that part out…” Chace says with a sigh, he eases back in his seat, his hand ruffles his hair.
“Hey.” Trey holds his hand up in a fist, toward Chace. Chace looks at it for a moment, considering. “He tried and failed to drop me bro, and I am way more fucking annoying than your pretty ass.”
Chace snorts despite himself. “Besides,” Trey continues, his tone shifting, “without you, Sera wouldn’t have been found and I’d be dead.
” My chest tightens. Trey’s gaze hardens.
“This sits with that greasy, cult-leading piece of shit.” He pauses, taking a breath.
“The real question is…” his voice drops. “What the fuck are we doing next?”
Chace exhales slowly, his fingers tapping a quiet, deliberate rhythm against his thigh, something instinctive, like a drummer marking time. “We don’t move loud,” he says at last, “Not yet.” Trey’s head tilts just slightly, “You want to wait?”
“I want to understand how she’s playing this,” Chace corrects, his voice lowering. “If Galina wanted Seraphina dead, she had ample opportunities. Which means…”
“She wants something.” I murmur. Chace nods once.
“Everything in our world is a transaction. Power, territory, influence.” His gaze flicks toward Trey. “And right now we have something she wants.” Trey’s fingers tighten around mine.
“What?” Chace doesn’t answer immediately, and that hesitation alone is enough to tell me I won’t like what comes next.
“You,” he says finally. I feel the shift ripple through Trey, like a storm restrained through sheer will.
“That. Is. Not. Fucking. Happening.” His voice is low, dangerous. Chace lets out a quiet breath.
“You think I’d let it?”
“Then explain it fucking better.” Trey snaps. Leaning forward, Chace drops his voice lower, pulling us into the gravity of what he’s about to say.
“Gideon is a figurehead—a useful one. He has influence over people. Followers, money, reach. But he’s unstable.” A brief pause lingers before he continues. “You on the other hand…” His eyes move between us, intent and assessing. “You’re becoming something else entirely.” Trey’s jaw tightens.
“Don’t.”
“Someone who walked out of death,” Chace says anyway. “A man who millions of people already watch, already talk about.” He flicks his eyes to me. “Add Seraphina to the equation. Faith. Obsession. Devotion.” A cold sensation slips through me, settling deep.
“They’re building a narrative around us,” I whisper.
“Yes. And they want to control it.” Chace sighs.
Trey lets out a sharp, humorless breath.
“Good luck with that.” Before Chace can respond, a soft chime cuts through the tension.
Chace reaches for his phone, but the moment he sees the screen, something in his expression shifts.
“They’re faster than I thought,” he mutters.
Chace turns the phone slightly so we can see.
A video. A black screen with no thumbnail, no sender, no ID—just the confirmation that it’s been delivered. My pulse spikes.
“Play it.” Chace hesitates, just for a fraction of a second, before tapping the screen.
The video flickers to life. A dimly lit room comes into focus, revealing a chair and a woman standing beside it.
She’s around sixty, tall, composed, her posture effortless in a way that feels practiced rather than natural.
Ash-blonde hair is pulled back cleanly, exposing the sharp elegance of her features, and pale blue eyes hold a steady, unblinking clarity.
She’s dressed in dark, tailored lines that skim her figure without softness, every detail precise, intentional. Even through the grain of the footage, there’s something arresting about her—an unmistakable authority.
When she shifts slightly, it’s with the kind of controlled grace that suggests she’s always aware of exactly how she’s seen.
Power sits on her like it belongs there.
Her eyes lift slowly, locking onto the camera as though she knows exactly who’s on the other side—and has been waiting for it.
“Mr. Baker,” she says smoothly, her Russian accent unmistakable. “And…Mrs. Baker.” My breath catches.
She smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.
“You have something that belongs in my world.”
Beside me, Trey doesn’t move. Doesn’t even seem to breathe.
“And I have something you want,” she continues, her tone unhurried.
She smiles with no warmth.
“Let us not pretend we are not already in conversation.”
The screen cuts to black.
Silence floods the SUV.
Trey exhales slowly. When he speaks, his voice is quiet
and infinitely more terrifying.
“You know this queen murder momma I am guessing?” Trey asks. Chace nods, expression unreadable.
“Galina Orlova, yes.”
“The fuck she want with you?”
“Same as always. Influence, power… a favor. It doesn’t matter though. She played her hand too soon.”
“You okay, baby?” Trey’s hand runs through my hair. I’m trying to make sense of everything unfolding, but his touch pulls me back into myself. I lean into him and manage a small smile.
“I’ll be fine…so what does this mean, Chace?”
“It means she made a mistake.”
Trey gives a wry grin, glancing at him. “What we gonna do now then?”
“Well,” A dark grin pulls at Chace’s lips, “She put herself nicely in the crosshairs of old houses and rivalries. It would be a shame not to pull the trigger.”