Chapter 10
Seraphina
I wake up to the familiar hum of my alarm. The world feels like it’s still asleep around me, but my mind’s been wide awake since last night. The chip’s contents, the truth of it all, gnawing at me like a weight pressing down on my chest. I try to shake it off, but the restlessness doesn’t let go.
Today, I’m not Seraphina—the woman who saw the truth of Facility E, who knows how deep this shit goes.
Today, I have to be the woman Dominic wants me to be.
The one with her head down, doing the work, making sure no one notices the cracks in her armor.
I slide on my heels, throw my hair into a tight bun, and set my shoulders.
I’m not ready for it, but I don’t have a choice.
It’s all business as usual—meetings, calls, a few whispers behind my back that I try to ignore.
I’ve been walking this line for years, balancing the expectations of the people around me with the secret I carry in the pit of my stomach.
The deeper I go, the harder it gets to keep the two sides of myself from crashing together.
But I don’t have the luxury of letting it all fall apart. Not yet.
When I get home, the relief of being in the penthouse again should be enough to make me breathe easy. It isn’t.
As soon as I step inside, the silence feels off. Too still. And then, I see him—Callum—sitting at my kitchen table like he owns the place, his dark eyes watching me like he knows everything there is to know about the mess in my head.
My heart skips a beat.
I freeze in the doorway. The adrenaline hits my bloodstream like a shot of pure fear. "You can’t do this shit!" I snap, voice higher than usual. "What if I had someone with me? What if I wasn’t alone?"
Callum doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t move, just stays leaned back in that chair like he’s been waiting for me all day. His lips curl into the faintest smirk before he says it.
“I know ye never bring anyone here, love,” he says, his Irish accent thick, and a little too casual for my liking. “This is yer space. I knew that wouldn’t be a problem.”
And that shuts me up. Completely.
It’s true. I never bring anyone here. The penthouse is my sanctuary, my place where I can breathe, think, not be the daughter of a monster.
But now I have a stranger—no, not a stranger—an Irish god of chaos, sitting in my kitchen.
I move past the moment quickly, dismissing the heat in my face, the way his presence messes with my calm. "Fine," I mutter. "What’s the plan, then? You threw a wrench in my plan, so now what?"
He pushes himself out of the chair slowly, as if he doesn’t care to make a sound, his boots thudding lightly against the polished floor. His gaze flicks to mine, and for a second, I swear he looks almost... amused .
“Yer plan had a good foundation,” he says, his voice steady but sharp, accent thickening again. "It was just yer plan of attack that was faulty."
My brows furrow. "Faulty? How the hell was it faulty?" I feel the challenge dart out before I can stop it, irritation bubbling under the surface.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ye went in blind. Thought ye could handle it on yer own, but they were already two steps ahead of ye. Ye had the right pieces in play, but ye didn’t account for all the angles.
What ye’re dealin’ with goes far beyond what ye can see. "
I’m pissed, but something about the way he talks makes me stop. Think. His words ring true in a way I can’t ignore, no matter how much I hate the fact that he’s right.
"So, what's your plan, then?" I ask, crossing my arms defensively. "You've been following me around, giving me pieces of the puzzle. I need more than that now."
Callum doesn’t look at me, though—he walks over to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey I keep stocked, and pours himself a glass. Then he raises an eyebrow. "Ye want one?"
I shake my head, still not trusting him fully.
“Here’s the thing, Seraphina,” he says, turning to face me, his eyes hard, focused.
“I have the trainin’. The resources. And the men who can help us make a move.
If ye want to go up against Blackdawn, ye’ll need more than what ye’ve got right now.
The people ye’re dealin’ with? They’re not playin’ by the same rules as ye. ”
I bite my lip, absorbing what he’s saying. "So what now?" I ask again, quieter this time.
Callum leans against the counter, his posture relaxed but every inch of him alert.
"We make a new plan," he says, voice even.
"I know the right people, the ones who can give ye intel. We don’t just rush in—this time, we wait.
We move smart. We wait for the moment they slip up, and when they do, we make our move. "
He walks toward the window, looking out at the city as if it holds all the answers.
"We need to take them down from the inside out. And that’s what we’re goin’ to do."
His words linger in the air between us, heavy and thick like the tension that’s always been there, hanging just beneath the surface.
For a moment, I stand still, not saying anything, just watching him. I can feel the pull between us—wanting to trust him, wanting to push him away. The conflict simmers underneath, but I can’t afford to let it distract me now.
"Alright," I say finally, my voice steady, as the weight of the moment settles into my chest. "Let’s do it your way. But make it count."
He smirks, the kind of smirk that’s not just a grin but a promise.
"It will," he says softly, his Irish accent thick and sure. "It bloody well will."
I stand there for a moment, trying to settle my nerves, while Callum casually leans against my kitchen counter, as if he’s been here a hundred times before. I know it’s just the adrenaline that’s still coursing through me, but the quiet of the penthouse seems to press in on me.
I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they keep coming back, gnawing at the back of my mind. The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t sit right.
Then I remember—Clarissa from HR.
"You know," I start, finally breaking the silence. Callum's gaze flicks toward me, but he doesn’t interrupt, waiting for me to speak. His eyes are still hard, like he’s always thinking five steps ahead.
I keep my voice steady, though the unease creeps up inside me. "When I was going through the security footage, I saw Clarissa from HR. She came into my office to have me sign a new non-compete agreement."
I pause, feeling the weight of the moment pressing against my chest. I’ve been meaning to talk about this, and now, with Callum here, it feels like the right time.
His brows furrow slightly. “A non-compete? That’s standard, isn’t it?”
I shake my head. "It’s what she was acting like before.
The way she stopped at my door. Smiled. Like.
.. like she was waiting for something. Then she comes in, all business, but I don’t know, something about her demeanor was off.
Almost rehearsed, like she was playing a part.
" I stop and meet his eyes, searching for his reaction. "I’m not saying it’s nothing, but it doesn’t sit well with me. "
Callum stands up straighter, his attention sharpening. "And ye think what, that she’s involved in something? "
I nod, feeling the tension in my shoulders tighten.
"I don’t know. I can’t shake the feeling that she was waiting for me to sign something, but not just for the non-compete.
It’s like she was covering her tracks for something else.
She seemed too calm, too... controlled. Like she knew I was gonna agree to it no matter what. "
Callum’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something in them—concern, maybe? But it’s gone in a second, and his face is back to its usual unreadable mask.
“Could be somethin’ small,” he says slowly, his Irish lilt drawing out every word. “But I’m not the type to let things go, especially not when there’s that much uncertainty.”
He steps closer to me now, his gaze never leaving mine. "Yer instincts are tellin' ye somethin’—trust them. You’ve got a good head on yer shoulders, Seraphina. If there’s somethin' off, ye need to follow it up."
I bite my lip, conflicted. Part of me wants to just brush it off. But the other part, the one that’s been burned by people I trusted before, is screaming at me to dig deeper. To trust my gut.
“I need to know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not going to let something like that slip by when we’re already dealing with this much bullshit."
He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me carefully, as if assessing the weight of my words. I can almost feel the gears turning in his head.
“I’ll look into it,” he finally says, his voice low and reassuring, though his eyes still seem distant, calculating. "But keep yer eyes open. If Clarissa is involved, there’s more to her than meets the eye. The fact that she’s part of HR gives her access to things we might not expect."
I nod, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. I trust Callum. I trust him more than I’ve trusted anyone in a long time. His words ring true, the promise of action and protection in his voice.
"But," he adds, stepping closer still, his eyes softening for a second, "don’t make it personal. This world is filled with people who’ll deceive ye. The more ye get involved, the harder it is to see who’s really on yer side."
I exhale slowly, pushing back the familiar urge to shut down. It’s the truth, though. The more I get tangled up in this, the more I stand to lose. But I can’t just walk away now.
"Alright," I say after a beat, trying to steady my voice. "We’ll figure this out together. But I won’t be blind to it. Not again."
He tilts his head, like he’s deciding something, and for a moment, there’s this unspoken connection between us. A thread of trust, of understanding, that passes through the air like an electric current.
“Good,” he says, his voice low and approving. "Let’s make sure ye don’t fall into the same traps as last time. Now, about yer plan...”
I can feel his gaze turn sharper again, and the air between us shifts. We’re back to business, to what matters now.
Callum’s eyes meet mine, unwavering. “Yer plan, it had good pieces—good instincts. But ye’ve got to think ahead. Not just how to strike, but when and where. You’ve been rushin’ this, tryin’ to force the pieces together when they need time to fall into place.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a raised finger.
"Trust me, Seraphina," he says, stepping closer, his breath warm on my skin. "The plan wasn’t the problem. It’s the timing. We wait. We observe. We wait for them to make a mistake."
I’m not sure if it’s his words or the way his presence presses down on me, but I nod, agreeing with him even though it feels like I’m giving up some of the control I fought so hard for.
"Alright. So we wait. Then what?"
Callum’s lips curl into the faintest smile. "Then we strike when they least expect it."