Chapter 29
Seraphina
The headquarters was almost empty now, the usual echo of boots and clipped conversations fading into silence as the day came to a close.
My eyes burned from staring at the screen too long, my fingers numb from typing variant after variant of search queries.
But no matter how deep I dug, how many clearance levels I danced around… Nothing.
There was no record of who had been assigned to Kieran. No handler. No mission reports. No logs of his movements.
It was like he’d never been a part of Blackdawn in the first place—which made no sense. We knew he had. People don’t just make that up. Unless someone wanted him scrubbed.
I leaned back in the stiff chair, sighing as I ran a hand through my hair.
“Damn it.” Disappointed but not defeated, I shut the system down and pulled my coat on.
If I couldn’t find anything here, I’d ask Callum.
Maybe Kieran said something—something I could follow, even if it was just a name. A whisper. A breadcrumb.
I stepped into the evening chill, let it clear the fog in my head, and drove straight to the safehouse.
The moment I opened the door, I heard voices. Well—one voice.
Kieran’s.
He was seated across from Callum in the living room, posture stiff but focused, like a dam finally starting to crack. His tone was low, serious, and Callum—stoic, unreadable Callum—was actually listening. Not just the way most people pretend to, but really listening.
I closed the door behind me quietly, the soft click making Kieran glance up. He tensed, but Callum turned, his expression calm. “Come sit. You’ll want to hear this.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I moved toward them, taking a seat beside Callum as Kieran’s eyes flicked between us. Then, he started talking again—about himself.
“I wasn’t born into any of this,” Kieran said, eyes fixed on the floor like he could still see the memories there.
“I was twelve when they first took me. Back then, I didn’t know what Blackdawn was.
I thought it was just some off-the-books mercenary cell—high-level stuff.
They trained me like I was a weapon, not a person.
I didn’t even have a proper last name until I was seventeen. Just Kieran. Just property.”
He leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees.
“But I was good at what they made me do. Surveillance. Extraction. Language work. They thought I was some kind of prodigy. I got passed between teams—mostly ones that worked in eastern Europe and North Africa. That’s where I picked up bits of Arabic, Turkish, Greek. ..”
“After a while, I got comfortable. I thought… maybe this was it. My life. My purpose. Then they assigned me to something darker. I didn’t know the full scope at first—just that we were securing ‘assets.’ That word meant everything and nothing. People, mostly. Young. Scared. Like I had been.”
His voice went quiet.
“I tried to ignore it. Just followed orders. Told myself I was protecting people by preventing worse men from getting to them first. But there was this girl. Couldn’t have been more than eleven.
We were told she’d be sold to one of the buyers Blackdawn kept on retainer—rich, connected, high volume. ”
He finally looked at us.
“I couldn’t do it. I faked a transfer order and got her out. Vanished for a few months. They found me eventually, of course. But instead of killing me, they said I owed them. That I was owned. They gave me one last assignment… and then tried to make it my last, period.”
He paused, breathing deep. “That’s when I ran.”
My throat tightened, heart aching in ways I hadn’t expected.
But then— My ears perked at a word, slipping in so naturally I almost missed it .
“The one I was sent to deliver the girl to... he had a place in southern Italy. Luther Cade was his name. Old money, old family. Creeped me the hell out.”
I froze.
“Wait.” My voice cut through the air, sharp and immediate. Kieran blinked at me.
“Say that again,” I said, leaning forward. “His name.”
“Luther Cade,” Kieran repeated, cautious now. “Why?”
I turned slowly to Callum, my pulse kicking up. “I know him,” I said. “He’s part of Blackdawn.”
Kieran’s brow furrowed. “That’s not what I was told. He’s just a private buyer. No official connection. Real discreet. Mostly involved in the ‘bride’ trade, if you get what I mean.”
“Oh, I get it,” I said coldly. “He’s been trying to marry me off to his son for over a year. Keeps thinking it’s some kind of honor. The man’s disgusting—and connected. His family runs the Mediterranean routes. High-value assets, specialty stock. Girls. Women. Anyone who sells well.”
Callum’s jaw clenched beside me.
Before we could dig deeper, Callum’s phone lit up on the table. He hit the speaker button.
“You’re on speaker,” he said.
Reaper didn’t waste time. “You have a full report of the drive coming your way in the secured comms.” A pause.
Then his voice dropped.
“I’m going to be honest, Callum. This is some of the worst shit I’ve seen yet with us... and that’s saying something.” Click.
Silence fell like a dropped blade.
Callum tapped into the secure comm and opened the file.
As he and I began to read, Kieran sat back, eyes distant, like he already knew what horrors we were about to uncover.