Chapter 4
Callum
The line between justice and vengeance snapped for me a long time ago. Can’t say I miss it.
O’course she doesn’t recognize me. She’s never seen me before.
But I’ve seen her—through dossiers, surveillance, scraps of intel passed along by people wise enough not to ask why I wanted it.
Seraphina Vex. Daughter of Dominic Vex. Heiress to a kingdom carved from blood and deceit, wrapped in gold, and shielded behind a mirrored empire called Blackdawn.
But I built somethin’ too. Brick by brick. Forged from the cracks in a system that pretends to be just. A business few know exists.
No website. No number. Just whispers passed between the desperate—the ones who've learned that sometimes justice doesn’t wear a badge.
I don’t work for money. Not unless the cause fits my code. Women or children being harmed? I’m in. Human traffickin’, rape, exploitation? I’ll hunt the bastards without pause. Petty revenge? Family drama? Don’t waste my time.
I don’t clean up messes. I erase rot. Cut it out at the root—no matter how deep the bloody roots go.
That’s the code. That’s the rule. That’s what’s kept me sharp. Kept me clear.
Until her.
She wasn’t the job. Not at first.
Her name showed up on a client’s encrypted file: Monitor. Assess. Observe. No contact. Just watch.
But the first time I watched her—really watched her—I knew straightaway: They picked the wrong target.
She wasn’t the rot. Not even close.
And that should’ve been it. Cancel the contract. Walk away.
But instead, I dug deeper. Not ‘cause the job needed it. Because I needed it.
One hour into watchin’ her… and I was already gone.
She moves through her world like she doesn’t belong in it. Not really. Not like the rest of them—her da’s people, all dressed up in suits and secrets.
She walks like she’s carryin’ somethin’.
A weight. A question she hasn’t figured out how to ask yet.
She’s part of the machine, sure—but she hasn’t seen all the gears grindin’ beneath her feet.
Not yet. She doesn’t know about Rook. Or what her da ordered.
Doesn’t know someone inside that empire wants her distracted. Off balance. Blind.
But she’s startin’ to see. I saw it in the way she moved—slippin’ out of that penthouse with a burner phone and a purpose.
Didn’t tell a soul. Didn’t trip a single alarm.
I followed from the rooftops. Kept pace till she ducked into the Blackdawn tower through a side entrance most people forget exists.
No guards. No hesitation. Just raw instinct and a woman on a mission.
She moved like she knew where to go. Opened the right drawer.
Paused on the folder labele d 2011 – Acquisitions.
She didn’t flinch at the names. Not till the photograph.
Rook. Her da. A note beneath it, sharp as a blade: "Rook’s loyalty is waning. His movements are being monitored. He’s become a liability. Recommend termination."
She stared at it like the breath had been knocked out of her. And still, she didn’t fall apart. She just stood there, tryin’ to glue her world back together with nothin’ but grit.
That’s when I stepped out of the dark.
Should’ve stayed hidden. Should’ve kept watchin’ in silence. But I needed to see her eyes. Needed to hear her voice.
“Ye’ve found what ye were lookin’ for?” I asked, lettin’ the Irish in my voice loose like it had a mind of its own.
She flinched, barely—but she didn’t back down. Her spine stayed straight. Proud. “I didn’t expect anyone down here.”
“Most don’t.” I let the words hang. “It’s dangerous, diggin’ in the dark.”
She turned to face me proper, eyes sharp. “You don’t know anything about me.”
I smiled. Not cruelly. Just… quiet. She couldn’t be more wrong.
I know what time she leaves her buildin’ each mornin’. Know she eats too little and lives on caffeine. Know she’s been pullin’ Blackdawn records in the dead of night. Keeps her da at arm’s length. Lingers too long at closed doors.
I know that when she’s alone, she exhales like the silence might just swallow her whole.
But I didn’t say any of that.
Only, “No… I s’pose I don’t.” And I turned, like I hadn’t memorized the slope of her throat or the storm behind her eyes. “I’ll leave ye to yer research.” Then I vanished before the spell could break .
Now I’m watchin’ her again. From a secure perch across the street, high in a rented office I locked down weeks ago.
The Blackdawn tower cuts the skyline like a blade. Doesn’t matter—I’ve already got eyes inside. And ears.
Through reinforced glass, I see her in her office. Pacing now. Restless. Good. She’s startin’ to look in the right direction.
I should leave her to it. But I won’t.
‘Cause Blackdawn isn’t a storm she can weather on her own. And because I’m already in too deep.
It’s not a job anymore. It’s her.
Now I’m in the belly of the beast—pacin’ the floor of a secure suite in the heart of District Six. This buildin’ isn’t on maps. Doesn’t exist to most. And the man waitin’ inside? He’s only ever spoken to me through encrypted voice files.
He wants a face-to-face. Which means one of two things: He’s scared. Or he’s testin’ me.
My boots echo over marble floors. My coat’s still drippin’ rainwater onto a rug that costs more than half the jobs I’ve taken this year.
Then comes the voice. Not his. Mine.
Not really mine.
"He’s lyin’ already. Look at his hands. They twitch like he’s hidin’ somethin’."
It’s always there. Never needed a name. It’s the part of me that showed up the night I stopped bein’ prey and started makin’ predators bleed.
“You want to gut him before he opens his gob?” I don’t answer. Just smirk.
The man—Rennick—is younger than I hoped, but carries the kind of dead-eyed exhaustion that makes him feel older. Somewhere in that useless middle. Pale skin, expensive suit, nervous posture. His eyes flit across my face, like he’s measurin’ whether I can be tamed.
He’s already lost.
“You got the girl’s location,” he says. “Progress?”
“She’s alive. Movin’. Unaware.”
“And you’ll keep it that way?”
“Say no. Watch him panic. Watch him sweat through that five-thousand-dollar fabric.”
I lean back against the wall, arms folded. “That depends.”
Rennick’s jaw tightens. “Depends on what?”
“On whether the story ye gave me about her bein’ in danger is the whole truth.”
He swallows hard.
I take a step forward. “Because if I find out ye lied—if she’s the target and not the witness—I’ll make sure ye never speak again.”
“Break a finger. Just to hear him squeal.”
I quiet the voice. For now.
Rennick tries to smile. Fails. “You’re very… passionate for a merc.”
“I’m not a mercenary.” I tilt my head. “I’m a consequence.”
He freezes. Good.
The meetin’ ends. I walk out before he can insult me with a payment offer.
In the corridor, I exhale slow.
Seraphina Vex doesn’t know who I am. But soon enough, she’ll know what I am.
Not her enemy. Not her savior.
Her shadow.
And I don’t plan to leave.