Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Seraphina
You Say – Lauren Daigle
The second I hear the door open, something inside me snaps tight and then breaks all at once, and I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved, my heart slamming so hard against my ribs it feels like it might shatter them as I cross the room in a blur, not thinking, not breathing, not caring about anything except the three figures stepping through that doorway.
“Trey—”
I don’t even finish his name before I throw myself into his arms, my body colliding with his hard enough that it should knock the breath out of both of us, but he catches me like he always does, like he was built for this, like there is nothing in this world he wouldn’t hold together if it meant keeping me from falling apart.
“Is it over?” I whisper, the words breaking out of me, fragile and desperate and barely there.
His arms tighten around me instantly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head, pressing my face into his neck as he exhales against my hair.
“It’s over, baby,” he murmurs, “He won’t ever hurt you again.”
That’s the moment everything I’ve been holding in—everything I’ve been forcing down, locking away, surviving through—finally gives, and the sob that tears out of me feels like it’s been clawing its way up for days, for weeks, for a lifetime.
I break.
Completely.
My fingers clutch at his polo as my knees give out, but he doesn’t let me fall, doesn’t even hesitate as he lifts me effortlessly and drops down onto the sofa with me in his lap, pulling me in against his chest like he can shield me from everything that’s already happened, like he can undo it if he just holds me tightly enough.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair, over and over again, his hand smoothing up and down my back in slow, steady passes. “I’ve got you, Sera… I’ve got you.”
I can’t stop crying.
I don’t even try.
Somewhere through the haze of it, through the warmth of him and the safety I’ve been aching for, I hear Mac’s small voice cut through the room.
“Where’s Niko?”
I lift my head slightly, just enough to see her curled into Logan’s side, his arm wrapped protectively around her as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it.
“Organizing cleanup,” Chace says with a quiet sigh, like the weight of it all is finally settling on him now that it’s done.
Cleanup.
The word sits heavy in the air.
Because that’s what this is, isn’t it?
The aftermath.
The part no one ever talks about.
“Where’s Logan, Sam?”
The question leaves me too quickly, too urgently, and I feel Trey shift slightly beneath me, his hand coming up to smooth my hair back from my face, his touch gentle, careful.
“Sam… he is with your sister to be looked over.”
My breath catches.
“He did?” I push up slightly, searching his face, needing something—anything—to hold onto. “Is she okay?”
There’s a pause.
Just a small one.
But it’s enough.
“Physically, yes,” Chace answers gently.
I turn my head toward him, my chest tightening as I take in the way he’s watching me, the way his expression has changed, softened into something that makes my stomach drop before he even says another word.
“But mentally…” he continues quietly, “…she’s… she won’t let anyone near her. Won’t let go of Sam.”
A sharp ache slices through me, immediate and deep, but I nod slightly, swallowing hard, trying to steady myself.
She’s alive.
That’s what matters.
That’s what I tell myself.
That’s what I cling to.
“Seraphina…”
My name in his voice is different now.
I feel Trey’s arm tighten around me as Chace steps closer, watching him as he moves slowly, deliberately, until he’s right in front of us, lowering himself down so he’s kneeling in front of me, bringing himself to my level like he doesn’t want to tower over me when he says whatever it is he’s about to say.
“What about my mom?” Chace’s jaw tightens. Trey is studying his expression.
Suddenly—I know.
“No—” I shake my head before he even speaks, the word spilling out of me in a rush of panic and refusal. “No…”
“Seraphina,” he says softly, reaching out and taking my hand in his, his grip warm and steady and unbearably gentle. “I’m so sorry, but your mother…”
I can’t hear it.
I won’t hear it.
I shake my head harder, my breath coming too fast, my chest tightening like it’s caving in on itself.
“No,” I repeat, the word cracking now, breaking apart just like everything else. “No—”
“I’m sorry.” he says, and his voice is so full of something I don’t want, something I can’t accept, something that feels like it’s about to rip me in half. “She didn’t make it.”
Everything inside me goes still, like someone’s reached in and cut every wire, every connection, every piece of me that knows how to feel or breathe or exist in a world where that sentence is real.
My mother.
Gone.
Just like that.
The air leaves my lungs in a broken, silent exhale as I stare at him, at Trey, at nothing, at everything, my mind refusing to catch up, refusing to understand, refusing to accept something so final, so absolute.
I didn’t know her…not really. So why does this hurt so much?
“No…” I whisper again.
I don’t recognize as my own, my hands clutching at Trey as I fall apart against him, completely undone.
His arms pull me in tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head as he presses me into his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers again, his voice rough now, strained in a way I’ve never heard before. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you, baby…”
What happened to her? Why now? Why? It’s not fair.
Across the room, everything is quiet.
No one moves.
No one speaks.
Because there’s nothing to say.
Nothing that could make this better.
Nothing that could undo what’s been done.
The war might be won.
Gideon is gone.
The threat is over.
But as I sit there in Trey’s arms, shattered and grieving and holding onto the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart, I know—deep in my bones, in the hollow ache spreading through my chest—this was never the end.
This was just the beginning of something harder.
Something quieter.
Something that will take everything we have to survive.
It’s the shadows that take form in the aftermath of change.
Because the real battle?
The one that comes after the violence, after the blood, after the revenge?
That’s the one that lingers.
That’s the one we have to learn to live through.
It’s only just begun.
To be continued...