CHAPTER 55
The grand ballroom glittered with opulence, crystal chandeliers throwing fractured light across polished marble floors.
Sera’s emerald green, silk gown hugged her curves, accentuating the life growing within her, while soft folds of fabric flowed down to the floor.
Her gray eyes swept over the crowd, noting the alliances, the tension in the smiles, the barely concealed malice hidden beneath polite laughter.
Lucien walked at her side, black suit immaculate, his hand brushing hers in a subtle, possessive gesture that made her heart thrum.
Tonight wasn’t just a celebration, it was a declaration.
The merger of their bloodlines, the end of one war and the promise of power consolidated, meant that every empire in the room had an agenda.
Every glance carried calculation, every handshake held threat.
Sera’s instincts were sharpened, honed by months of violence, training, and survival.
Even in a dress of silk and elegance, she radiated danger, and those who met her gaze felt it.
Lucien leaned close, his voice low against her ear.
“Stay close. Tonight is theirs, but the moment someone threatens you…” His words trailed off, but she understood.
She nodded, thumb brushing his hand briefly, feeling the warmth of him through the silk of her gown.
He was always near, but tonight, their partnership would be tested in ways beyond politics.
The evening flowed with toasts, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but Sera’s attention never wavered.
She caught subtle shifts in movement, a hand lingering near a lapel, eyes darting toward her midsection and she tightened her grip on the small dagger strapped beneath her dress.
Every instinct screamed that the night wouldn’t end peacefully.
It didn’t.
As they stepped toward the exit, the sudden movement near the grand staircase drew her attention. A man lunge]\
from the shadows, blade aimed at her side.
Time slowed as Sera reacted, honed reflexes overriding fear.
With a swift pivot, she drew the dagger strapped to her leg and slashed upward.
The man beside the assailant, a partner, body blocking escape, collapsed instantly, his throat cut clean, blood spilling over the polished marble.
Ronan lunged toward the other man, grappling, gunfire echoing in the opulent hall.
Lucien was at her side in an instant, his dark coat flaring as he positioned himself between her and the remaining threat.
The blade grazed her side, the force against her pregnant belly sending a shock through her body.
Pain lanced, but it didn’t slow her. She hissed through clenched teeth, heart hammering, adrenaline and terror mingling.
Lucien’s hands found hers, steadying her, and his dark eyes burned with rage at anyone who would dare touch her.
“Stay with me,” he growled, voice low, lethal, protective.
Sera’s breathing came fast, uneven, but she was unshakable.
Every kill, every move was precise, controlled, even with the weight of seven months pressing on her.
The man she had taken down lay sprawled at her feet, the dagger still in her hand.
Blood, polished marble, and candlelight mixed in a surreal, terrifying glow.
Around them, chaos erupted as the gala descended into panic, guests screaming, alliances momentarily forgotten in the shock of attempted murder.
Ronan had neutralized the other assailant, dragging him back toward the security exits.
Lucien’s hand settled on Sera’s waist, then slid over her stomach, protective and possessive.
His jaw was tight, eyes sharp as a hawk, scanning for any remaining threats.
“No one touches you,” he said, low and deadly, each word carrying the weight of every battle they had ever survived together.
Sera pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing heavily, heart racing, not from fear alone, but from the awareness of how fragile and powerful their life together was.
Seven months, and yet she was still lethal, still unstoppable, still his partner in every sense.
The night had been meant for politics and celebration, but it had become another reminder of their world, blood, power, danger, and love intertwined in a way that no one else could understand.
Lucien’s lips brushed her temple, dark and possessive. “We survive everything,” he murmured, hand resting on her belly. “Together.”
Sera looked up at him, eyes glistening, and whispered, “The baby...” A tear escaped, a shiver of fear, hope, and exhilaration running through her. Lucien’s hand tightened around hers, firm, grounding. “Will be fine,” he promised, voice low, filled with unshakable certainty.