Chapter 27
Seraphina
The image of Kieran burned into the screen—pixelated, distant, but unmistakably him. Every instinct I had screamed that we couldn’t wait. If we were going to find him before someone else did, it had to be now.
“He’s hurt, but he’s movin’,” Callum muttered, eyes locked on the image. “That clinic's long shut down. Ain’t had a patient in five years, from what I remember.”
“Then someone was using it for something else,” I said, already pulling up local blueprints and zoning records. “Old buildings like this, they usually get repurposed off the record—squatters, safehouses, street clinics…”
“Or graveyards,” Callum added grimly.
I didn’t flinch. We’d both seen too much for sugarcoating.
“There’s a back alley entrance,” I said, tracing the building layout. “And look—there’s an old storm drain running right behind the property. If he was running, he might’ve used that to get out. We need eyes on it.”
Callum stood, grabbing his keys and tucking his sidearm beneath his coat. “Then we go now. I’ll call Reaper on the way, see if he can pull drone scans from earlier this week. Maybe our lad’s still hoverin’ near the place.”
I followed him to the door, heart pounding with the familiar mix of adrenaline and purpose. I wasn’t sure what drove me harder—wanting to save the kid or the dark satisfaction of cutting off whoever was hunting him.
Maybe both.
Callum opened the passenger door for me. “In ya go, queen of mine. Let’s go snatch a ghost outta the jaws of death.”
The drive was quiet, but not tense. Focused. We didn’t need to talk much—we moved like a unit, thinking through every possibility, every risk.
As we pulled up to the edge of the block where the clinic sat like a forgotten memory, I scanned the perimeter. Boarded windows. Rusted sign. Grass too long. But nothing about it looked undisturbed.
“There,” I pointed. “Tracks in the dirt by the side gate. Could be old, but that’s no raccoon trail.”
Callum parked the car a block down and cut the engine. “We go soft. No lights, no noise. If he’s in there, we don’t want him boltin’. If it’s a trap…” His grin curved dark. “Well, they’ve no idea who just walked into it.”
He handed me a slim blade from the glovebox. “Don’t need it, but never hurts to be kissed by steel.”
I smirked, tucking it into my boot. “Romantic.”
We moved like shadows, flanking the building from either side. I found the storm drain and crouched, brushing my fingers over the rusted grate.
“Recently moved,” I whispered into my comm.
“Same on the side door,” Callum replied. “Fresh scrape on the lock. Someone’s been here within the last day, at most.”
I felt a tug of something in my chest—not fear, but urgency. A weight that didn’t come from danger, but from the possibility of saving someone who had risked everything and been forgotten for it.
“Going in,” I said, prying the grate loose.
Inside, the drain was narrow but passable. I moved carefully, silent in the dark, until the passage opened up into a storage room with broken tile and mold on the walls. A faint light flickered ahead—dim, weak, like a dying flashlight.
I pressed forward, heart thudding.
And then I saw him.
Huddled in the corner, leg wrapped in what looked like an old hoodie, blood dried into the fabric. His face was gaunt, but his eyes—sharp and watchful—met mine the second I stepped into view.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice was hoarse, cracked from disuse or dehydration—or both.
I held up my hands slowly. “Someone who saw what you did. And someone who thinks it meant something.”
He didn’t lower the piece of broken pipe in his hand. But he didn’t lunge either.
Then Callum stepped in behind me, voice low and calm with that Irish lilt. “Easy, lad. We’re not here to hurt ya. Quite the opposite, in fact. You wanna live? You come with us.”
Kieran’s eyes flicked between us—me, calm and open, and Callum, unreadable but steady.
And slowly, the pipe lowered.
“We can explain everything,” I said softly, my voice steady but urgent. “But it’s not even kind of safe for you here. Please, come with us.”
I let my face soften, hoping he could see past the shadows and adrenaline to the sincerity in my eyes. I wasn’t here to hurt him—just the opposite. But the people looking for him? They’d rip him apart without blinking.
His grip tightened slightly on the pipe, but I caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He was weighing his options, trying to decide if we were the lesser of two evils. I didn’t blame him.
From beside me, Callum stepped forward just a bit. His voice, warm and rich with his Irish lilt, cut through the tension. “I’ve got medical trainin’, lad. I can help you with that injury of yours, but we’ve gotta move. Now.”
Kieran hesitated only a second longer before nodding once. “Alright… but if you’re lying—”
“You’ll gut us,” I finished for him, not unkindly. “Fair enough.”
The safehouse was dim and quiet when we brought him in—low lighting, thick walls, and peace that felt foreign after the filth of the old clinic.
Callum helped Kieran onto the makeshift medical table in the corner of the main room and immediately set to work, hands steady and sure as he peeled back the makeshift dressing on the boy’s leg.
I knelt beside them, brushing the hair from my face as I began to speak.
“My name is Seraphina Vex,” I said. “And before you ask, yes— that Vex. Dominic’s built his empire on the backs of people like you, and until recently, I was expected to keep that legacy going.”
Kieran’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I found your name in a document that wasn’t meant to be seen. You were flagged—high risk, high potential. They want you back not just to punish you for what you did, but to use you. Condition you, probably break you. And I’m not about to let that happen.”
Callum worked in silence, using tools that would’ve looked out of place in any regular clinic but felt perfectly normal in the world we lived in. When he reached for a scalpel, I turned my attention back to Kieran.
“We came for you,” I said simply. “Because what you did? Risking your life to save those girls? That kind of guts… it’s rare. And we think you could be valuable. Not just to us—but to the cause we’re building.”
He looked like he wanted to believe me—but survival had probably taught him that trust was a trap.
I offered a half-smile, gesturing toward Callum. “I know he looks scary,” I said lightly, “but he’s the reason we found you so fast.”
Callum snorted as he reached for gauze. “That’s not true, lad. This little lady’s the real leader. I’m just blessed to be supportin’ her. ”
The compliment caught me off guard, warmth blooming in my chest. I gave him a look, one that said not now , but my smile betrayed me.
Kieran let out the smallest chuckle, which turned quickly into a grimace as Callum began removing the bullet. “Fuck,” he hissed, white-knuckling the edge of the table.
“I know it hurts,” Callum said evenly, accent curling the edges of every word. “But you’ll thank me when you can walk on that leg again. Deep breath now—there she is…”
The moment stretched, blood and pressure and skill all working in tandem, until finally—
“Got it,” Callum said, dropping the bullet into a metal tray with a clink . “Now, let’s keep that blood where it belongs.”
I handed him what he needed, watching silently as he sealed the wound with calm efficiency. Once the bleeding was under control and Kieran had something to drink, I perched on the edge of the armrest nearby.
“Now that you’re not dying on us,” I said gently, “what else do you know? Other than what I’ve told you.”
Kieran shifted slightly, sweat still beading at his brow, but his voice came out clearer now.
“More than they think I do,” he said. “They didn’t know I had a backup drive. I copied comms logs, names, drop sites—some of it was encrypted, but I kept it all. It’s hidden. Not on me.”
My gaze flicked to Callum, then back to Kieran.
“Where?” I asked .
His answer came without hesitation. “Chicago. It’s in a place only I can get to. If it’s still there, it’ll have everything.”