Epilogue #4
Finally, he glances at me over his shoulder. "What?"
"Enough."
He smirks. "Getting shy all of a sudden?"
"I'm getting bored."
The model pouts, clearly enjoying the attention. Her body is trembling under the weight of it, under the heat of his gaze.
I step forward, boots echoing on the polished concrete.
"What did you come here for?" I ask the girl.
She blinks at me, breathless. "What?"
"You heard me." I fold my arms. "Why are you here? For the photos? For the attention?" I lean in, stare right into her eyes. "Or did you come here because you wanted to be fucked?"
Her cheeks flush a deeper red. She nods.
"Yes," she whispers.
I step back, shake my head once. "Dante. Will you do the honors for this eager little thing so we can focus on something that matters?"
Dante doesn't even pause. "Gladly."
He sets the camera down, eyes already darkening.
"I'll join," Kai says lazily, slipping his phone into his pocket. He's already unbuttoning his shirt, fingers moving with practiced ease.
The model spreads her legs like she's being gifted the fucking sun.
I turn my back to the scene, walking slowly toward the open glass wall, but I don't leave just yet. I need to get through this conversation while their minds are still lucid.
"She got the invitation," I say flatly.
Kai groans—pleasure-laced and distracted—but manages, "Seraphina?"
"Yes."
"About time," Dante mutters, voice thick and low as I hear fabric rustle behind me.
"She's been searching for us already," I continue. "The digital trail's faint but there. And something's waking up in her."
Kai lets out a low breath—probably not from the topic. "What kind of wake-up are we talking about?"
"Witch blood," I say. "Untrained. Unaware. But it's there. Her predictions? Too consistent. Too clean."
A moan cuts through the air. Wet, needy. I keep talking.
"She's not like the others we've drained. This one's got teeth under the silk."
"I'll give her something to bite down on," Dante grunts, and the sound of skin meeting skin echoes like punctuation.
I ignore him.
"The retreat gives us the window," I say. "We'll have her for a month. Close contact. Proximity to power. And if we play it right…"
"We bind her," Kai finishes, his voice low and sharp behind me.
"That's the plan," I say. "But it has to be willing. Force corrupts the link. We need her to come to us."
There's a sudden sharp gasp from the model—high-pitched, drowning in pleasure. The slap of flesh gets faster.
"And if she doesn't?" Dante pants.
"Then we take what we need the old way," I answer coldly.
A choked cry behind me. Climax. One of them. Maybe both.
"Fuck," Kai exhales, sounding wrecked. "You always know how to pick them, Ryder."
I say nothing.
The woman I care about isn't here. Not yet.
But she will be soon.
Seraphina.
She's not going to spread for the camera.
She's going to burn us all down if we're not careful.
And I intend to be very, very careful.
While the others chase tail, I'm chasing the future.
I step out onto the balcony, leaving them to their distractions. The ocean stretches before me—dark, endless, powerful. Like the magic we seek to control. The air tastes of salt and possibility. A storm is coming. I can feel it in my bones, in the old blood that runs through my veins.
The Surfcasters have been hunting for centuries, taking what we need to maintain our power. One soul per year, carefully chosen, meticulously drained. Enough to sustain, but never enough to transcend. The elders are content with this arrangement—stability over ambition. Safety over true power.
I am not the elders.
Behind me, the sounds from the studio have quieted. I hear footsteps, then Kai joins me at the railing, buttoning his shirt with one hand, phone in the other.
"You really think she's the one?" he asks.
I don't look at him. "I know she is."
"What makes you so sure?"
"I've been tracking her for months. Every prediction, every reading.
At first, it was just intuition—basic cold reading techniques.
But lately..." I turn to face him. "She told a client about a hidden bank account.
The exact bank, the exact amount. She warned another about a mechanical failure that would have killed them.
She's not guessing anymore, Kai. She's seeing. "
Kai whistles low. "She doesn't know what she is, does she?"
"No. And that's our advantage."
Dante appears behind us, still shirtless, hair mussed. The model is nowhere to be seen. "We talking about the witch?"
"Potential witch," Kai corrects. "We still need to confirm."
I shake my head. "Trust me. She's awakening. And if we can bind her during the blood moon..."
"We won't need to hunt anymore," Dante finishes, eyes gleaming with understanding. "A constant source."
"More than that," I say. "A willing source strengthens the bond. Multiplies the power. We wouldn't just maintain—we'd grow. Evolve."
"The elders will never approve," Kai says, always the pragmatist.
"The elders don't need to know until it's done."
Dante laughs, deep and dark. "Breaking all the rules, Ryder? Not like you."
I turn back to the ocean. "Some rules are meant to be broken."
"And if she resists?" Dante asks. "If your seduction fails?"
"Then we resort to tradition," I say simply. "Either way, she feeds us. I'd just prefer the binding."
"We all would," Kai nods. "Binding would be... unprecedented in our lifetime."
"That's why we need to be careful," I warn. "No distractions. No impulsivity." I give Dante a pointed look.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "I'll be on my best behavior."
"Your best behavior still gets you arrested in most states," Kai mutters.
Dante just grins.
I push away from the railing. "I need you both focused. The retreat starts in two weeks. Kai, I want everything on her—work schedule, apartment layout, digital footprint, the works."
Kai nods, already tapping at his phone. "On it."
"Dante, you're on retreat preparations. Make sure the ritual chamber is ready. We'll need specific elements for a binding—not just a draining."
"I know what to do," Dante says, suddenly serious. Despite his impulses, he's meticulous when it comes to ritual magic. "I'll review the old texts."
"Good." I check my watch. "The others will be arriving soon. Last year's donors are always eager to return."
Kai smirks. "They never remember being drained. Just the euphoria before it."
"Keep it that way," I say sharply. "We can't afford exposure, especially with what we're planning."
"Relax, Ryder," Dante claps me on the shoulder. "We've been doing this for decades."
"And we'll be doing it for centuries more if we succeed with the witch."
The sun is setting now, painting the horizon in deep crimson. Blood moon colors. An omen, perhaps. Or just wishful thinking.
I pull out my phone, opening the private surveillance feed I'd set up weeks ago.
Seraphina's apartment comes into view—small, cluttered with books and crystals.
She sits cross-legged on a yoga mat, eyes closed in meditation.
The black envelope of our invitation rests on the table beside her, unopened.
"Will she come?" Dante asks, peering over my shoulder.
"She'll come," I say with certainty. "Curiosity is written into her DNA. And money—ten thousand will be hard to resist for a waitress."
"Ten thousand?" Kai raises his eyebrows. "Generous."
"An investment," I correct him.
On the screen, Seraphina opens her eyes, reaching for the invitation. Her fingers trace the golden seal before breaking it.
"There," I whisper. "She's reading it now."
We watch in silence as her expression shifts—confusion, intrigue, temptation. She reads it twice, then sets it down, biting her lip.
"She's considering it," Dante says.
"She'll do more than consider," I reply. "She'll accept."
"You seem very confident," Kai observes.
I close the app, pocketing my phone. "I am."
Because I've seen it—the hunger in her eyes when I sat in her section at that beachside restaurant. Not lust, like the model's. Something deeper. A yearning for understanding, for answers about what's happening to her. We can provide those answers, shaped to serve our purpose.
"Gentlemen," I say, straightening my jacket. "Let's prepare for our guests. The journey begins now."
As I walk back into the studio, I feel it—the pull of ancient magic, the promise of transformation. The hunt is changing this year.
And Seraphina Elise Morgan has no idea she's already being pursued.