Chapter 30
Seraphina
The file Reaper sent opened with a single word: Classified.
But what followed didn’t need a label. It was filth. Unfiltered. Unforgivable.
The images alone made my stomach twist—rows of children, teens, women.
All tagged with ID codes, all treated like inventory.
Some had blank expressions, like they’d already left their bodies behind.
Others screamed at the cameras, faces twisted in pain, terror, or defiance.
It didn’t matter. None of it mattered to the men behind the screen.
Because they weren’t people to them.
They were stock.
“Unsold virgins causing problems again.” “Refusing use. If they won't break, send to Cade.” “Not worth the space they take up.”
Each line of text made my skin crawl. I could hear the words in their voices—those smug, oily bastards who believed the world owed them anything they wanted. And in this world, what they wanted was obedience. Flesh. Pain.
Callum kept reading, his tone devoid of emotion, though I knew that meant he was barely keeping it together .
Then came the videos. Training footage. Torture footage. Recordings of "compliance correction."
I didn’t flinch.
Not because it didn’t affect me—but because I’d seen all of this before. Over and over again.
Dominic made sure of it. “Preparation,” he called it. Said if I was to lead one day, I needed to understand what the stakes were. How power was built. Maintained. How fear was shaped.
I’d been thirteen the first time he showed me footage like this. I cried that night. He punished me for it the next day. I learned not to cry.
But then— “STOP!” I barked, louder than I intended.
Callum’s eyes snapped to mine, startled. Kieran flinched.
I pointed to the screen, heart slamming so hard it made my vision blur. “There. That photo. What does it say under that?”
Callum scrolled, silent for a second as he read. Then aloud:
“Subjects in this photo not yet assigned. Open market notice issued. Priority tagging to follow.” “Date: 26 years ago.”
His eyes met mine again, now carefully studying my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
My mouth opened, but no words came out at first. My mind raced—images, fragments, voices. Stories I used to hear before bed. Pieces that never quite made sense. Why we never talked about family. Why we always looked over our shoulder in crowded places.
I swallowed, voice rough with disbelief. “That… that’s my mother.”
Kieran made a soft, stunned sound. “Whoah, what?”
I ignored him, leaning in, tapping the image. “There,” I said again, turning the laptop toward Kieran, my finger trembling slightly as it hovered over the photo. “That’s her. That’s my mother. Before I was even born.”
The woman in the photo had the same eyes I saw in the mirror every day—wide and almond-shaped, filled with quiet fire. Her hair was a dark waterfall down her back, her hands clenched into fists even though she was surrounded by guards.
Unbroken. Unclaimed. Unafraid.
I stared at her face, the past bleeding into the present, and realized something terrifying.
Dominic didn’t just marry her. He bought her.
I stared at the photo like it might change. Like if I blinked long enough or looked away and back again, it would be someone else’s mother. Someone else’s nightmare .
But no. It was her.
You don’t forget the face of the woman who used to brush your hair back behind your ears when you couldn’t sleep. The one who hummed old lullabies in another language and would stop midsong if she caught Dominic listening.
My heart pounded, each beat thudding louder than the last. My throat burned like I’d swallowed broken glass.
Callum was still watching me, voice low and careful. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” There was no room for doubt. “I’ve seen that expression a thousand times. It’s the look she wore when she thought no one was watching her.”
Kieran shifted uncomfortably next to Callum, leaning in to look again. “Damn... she looks young. Maybe—what, late teens?”
“Eighteen.” My voice was automatic. “She was eighteen when she met Dominic.” Or so she told me.
But now… Now I had to wonder if that was a story she’d been told to tell me. Or one she had to tell herself to survive.
Callum's gaze darkened. "Your father—he—"
"Bought her." The words came out bitter and cold. “He bought her and married her to legitimize it. Maybe to make himself feel better. Or maybe just so no one else could touch what he saw first.”
It all made sense now. Why she never left the estate without guards. Why she was never allowed to speak to anyone on her own. Why she stopped smiling after I turned five .
Because she wasn't a wife. She was property. And the man I had called father was just another fucking monster in a network of predators.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered, swallowing hard against the rise of nausea. “I didn’t know she came from this.”
Callum stood and came to kneel in front of me, his hands gentle as he reached for mine. His voice was low but steady. “You couldn’t have known. He made sure of that. He kept her trapped.”
“But I lived with her.” My breath hitched. “I should’ve seen something—I should’ve—”
“No.” His tone sharpened, firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t carry his sins.” He squeezed my hands. “He built his empire on lies. It’s not your fault you didn’t see through them.”
I nodded numbly, my eyes drawn back to the photo. She looked so strong. Even then.
Kieran leaned forward, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “She’s the reason you fight, huh?”
I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure.
Maybe I’d been fighting Dominic. Maybe I’d been trying to prove I wasn’t like him.
But now, with the truth staring me in the face— I think I was always trying to find her. The woman she used to be before he broke her wings and caged her for good .
A long silence settled over us, heavy and sharp.
Then Callum sat back, drawing in a breath like he was resetting himself. “We keep going. We find the rest of the names. We burn the entire thing to the ground. For her. For all of them.”
My eyes lifted to meet his, and something steadied in my chest. A resolve, fierce and unshakable.
“For her,” I repeated.
And I meant it.