Chapter 3 THE PRICE OF BREATHING

As Seraphine followed the silent guard down the white-tiled corridor, the rhythmic thud of her own heart felt like a drum beating out a warning.

Ten minutes.

That was all Azriel had granted her. Ten minutes to bridge the gap between the daughter of a librarian and the wife of a monster.

The guard stopped in front of a heavy steel door and swiped a keycard. The lock clicked with a finality that made Seraphine’s stomach churn. She stepped inside, and the sight that met her eyes nearly brought her to her knees.

Silas Caelis looked like a broken marionette. He was hooked up to a series of monitors that beeped with an indifferent, mechanical pulse. His face, once jovial and full of life despite his gambling debts, was a mosaic of purple bruises and jagged lacerations. His hands, the same hands that had taught Seraphine how to mend book spines with silk thread, were bandaged and trembling.

"Dad?" she whispered, rushing to the bedside.

His eyes flickered open—bloodshot and clouded with pain. When they landed on her, he didn't look relieved. He looked terrified.

"Sera..." he wheezed, his voice a dry rasp. "You shouldn't... be here. You have to run. He’s... he’s not a man. He’s the devil."

"I can't run, Dad," Seraphine said, her voice cracking as she took his hand. It was cold, like the marble in Azriel’s foyer. "I signed it. I’m a Kaine now."

Silas’s eyes widened, a tear tracking through the grime on his cheek. "No... Sera, no. Not for me. I’m not worth it."

"The Morettis," Seraphine said, lowering her voice, her eyes darting toward the security camera in the corner of the room. She knew Azriel was watching. Every breath, every tear was being recorded and analyzed. "Azriel said you stole something. A shipment. Diamonds. Dad, where are they? If I give them back, maybe he’ll let us go."

Silas’s grip on her hand tightened with a sudden, frantic strength. "The shipment... it wasn't diamonds, Sera. It was—"

Suddenly, the intercom on the wall crackled to life. "Time is up, Mrs. Kaine."

The door swung open. The guard didn't even have to speak. His presence was enough.

"I’ll come back for you," Seraphine promised, leaning down to kiss her father’s forehead. "Just stay alive. Please."

As she was ushered out, she saw the look in her father’s eyes. It wasn't just pain. It was a secret—one that was far more dangerous than ten million pounds' worth of stones.

Seraphine didn't go back to her room. She walked straight to the library, knowing Azriel would be there. She found him standing by a large mahogany globe, his fingers tracing the borders of countries as if he were deciding which ones to conquer next.

"You’re early," Azriel said without turning around. "Most people would have spent the full ten minutes weeping."

"Crying doesn't pay debts," Seraphine replied, her voice echoing in the vast room. "And it doesn't heal broken ribs."

Azriel turned, a look of genuine intrigue flickering across his face. "Indeed. So, did he tell you? Did he tell you where the 'diamonds' are?"

"He said it wasn't diamonds," Seraphine stated, watching for a reaction.

Azriel’s expression didn't change, but the air in the room seemed to drop five degrees. He walked toward her, his footsteps silent on the Persian rug. He stopped just inches away, his shadow looming over her.

"And what did he say it was?"

"The intercom cut us off," she lied. Her heart was racing, but she kept her gaze steady. If she was going to survive in this den of lions, she had to learn how to lie to the biggest lion of them all. "But he’s terrified of you, Azriel. If you want the truth, you have to let me gain his trust. Torture only makes people say what they think you want to hear. Trust makes them tell you the things they’re afraid to say."

Azriel reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was electric, a terrifying blend of intimacy and threat. "You’re smarter than you look, Seraphine. A librarian with the soul of a negotiator."

"I’m a woman who wants her father to live," she corrected.

"A noble sentiment. But in this house, nobility is a luxury you cannot afford," Azriel whispered. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. "The gala is in four hours. The Morettis will be there. They will be looking for a weakness in my new armor. You, Seraphine, are that armor. If you flinch, if you look like a victim, they will smell the blood in the water. And if they attack, I won't be the only one who bleeds."

The next few hours were a blur of silk and steel. A team of stylists descended upon her, stripping away the last vestiges of her old life. They scrubbed her skin until it glowed, painted her lips a shade of red that looked like a fresh wound, and squeezed her into a gown of midnight blue silk that felt more like a suit of chainmail than a dress.

When she looked in the mirror, she didn't recognize the woman staring back. The soft, quiet girl from the library was gone. In her place was a creature of sharp angles and cold eyes.

"You look like a Kaine," a voice said from the doorway.

Azriel stood there, dressed in a tuxedo that made him look like a god of the underworld. He walked over to her and held out a velvet box. Inside was a necklace of sapphires so dark they looked black.

"Wear these," he commanded. "They belonged to my mother. She was a woman who knew how to keep secrets. I suggest you do the same."

As he fastened the cold stones around her neck, Seraphine looked at their reflection. They looked like the perfect power couple—a king and his consort. But she knew the truth. She was a bird in a gilded cage, and the man holding the key was the most dangerous person she had ever met.

"Ready to meet the wolves, Seraphine?" Azriel asked, offering his arm.

Seraphine took it, her fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his sleeve. "I’ve been surrounded by wolves my whole life, Mr. Kaine. The only difference is that now, I’m standing next to the alpha."

Azriel’s smile was sharp enough to draw blood. "Good. Let's see if you can bite as well as you bark."