The world returned in fragments—cold air searing her lungs, the burn of rope biting into her wrists, the metallic tang of rust and oil heavy in her throat. Sera forced her eyes open.
A single light bulb swung above her, casting the warehouse in fractured shadows. Crates rose like walls, damp concrete stretched endlessly beneath her feet. And in the circle of that thin light—she sat bound to a chair, stripped of control but not of power.
Bootsteps echoed. Slow. Certain. Predatory.
"Child," a voice drawled, smooth as venom. "Queenling. You wear the crown well."
From the shadows stepped Hector Blackwell. His suit was immaculate, but his smile was a blade. He moved around her with the lazy confidence of a hunter who'd already broken his prey.
"But crowns mean nothing in the dark."
Sera's chin lifted, the steel in her spine defying the trembling in her veins. "If you think darkness frightens me, you've mistaken your opponent."
He chuckled, low and grating. "Bold. Just like your mother." His eyes flickered, sharp and cruel. "Do you really think your precious Sebastian is clean? He dug too deep. I buried him—just like I buried the D'Arclays."
Her breath caught, but she did not flinch.
"The dynasties," Hector sneered, circling, his words spitting venom. "Rot in jewels. Parasites feeding on old wealth. The D'Arclays refused to play, so I burned them for it."
He leaned close, voice a hiss against her ear. "And the Summer Gala? You remember that spectacle. How quickly they turned on my nephew. Did you ever wonder who set that fire?"
Sera's heart lurched.
Hector's grin widened, poisonous. "Sebastian thought he could dig into the truth. He found whispers of the D'Arclays—too close, far too close. So I made sure every eye was on him instead. A scandal, a scandal so sweet. A drugged girl in his arms, a doctored video, a thousand lenses catching a boy who wasn't guilty—only curious."
He straightened, pride gleaming in his eyes. "And the dynasties? Oh, they believed it. They exiled him, spat him out. Adrian never knew. Selene never asked. But I knew. And I smiled while my nephew burned."
Sera's fury rose, white-hot, curling against the fear in her chest. "You destroyed him."
"No," Hector purred. "I shaped him. Every scar on that boy belongs to me."
Sera, voice sharp as glass despite her fear: "You mistook cruelty for power. That's why you'll fall."
A shadow stirred at the edge of the light.
"Funny," another voice rasped, raw, bloodied. "That's exactly what I was about to say."
Sebastian stepped into view. His shirt was torn, his lip split, blood running from a cut above his brow. His knuckles were raw, bruised from the fight that had brought him here. But his eyes—his eyes burned with fury, locked on his uncle.
Hector stilled. For the first time, his smile wavered.
Sebastian lifted a gun, steady despite the tremor in his battered body. "You won't touch her again."
Hector laughed, wild and cruel, spreading his arms as though inviting the bullet. "You think you can protect her? You think love makes you strong? No. It makes you stupid. Just like your father."
The warehouse doors exploded inward. Shouts filled the air—Valmont security, police flooding the shadows. Gunfire cracked, chaos erupting.
Sera twisted in her chair, heart pounding as bullets ricocheted. Pain seared through her side—hot, shocking. She gasped, crimson blooming across silver silk.
"Seraphina!"
Sebastian roared, feral, breaking past his guards. His fury was unchained now, all restraint gone. He hurled himself at Hector with the violence of years suppressed.
"You'll never hurt her again!"
The shot echoed like thunder.
Hector Blackwell staggered, eyes wide with disbelief, before he collapsed into the shadows he had once ruled.
The room fell silent except for the ringing in Sera's ears.
And Sebastian—bloodied, trembling, wild-eyed—dropped the gun, falling to his knees at her side.
"Sera—stay with me. Please."
-----
The gunshot still echoed, reverberating off the metal beams, when silence crashed down.
Hector's body slumped into the shadows. His reign of venom ended in a pool of his own blood.
But Sera barely registered it. Pain burned white-hot through her side, each breath a jagged knife. She swayed, the ropes finally cut loose by Valmont guards, but her body betrayed her—folding, collapsing—
Into his arms.
Sebastian caught her before she hit the ground, his hands trembling as they pressed against the wound, desperate, useless against the flood of red staining her gown.
"No. No, no, no—" His voice broke, a ragged whisper against her hair. "Stay with me, Sera. You don't get to leave me now. Not after everything."
Guards swarmed, shouts colliding with the wail of sirens outside. Marcus Valmont's voice cut like steel, barking orders. Adrian Blackwell's voice followed, raw with fury, demanding explanations. But all of it blurred into meaningless noise, drowned by the pounding of Sebastian's heart against her cheek.
Her fingers, slick with blood, curled into his lapel. "Sebastian…"
"I've got you." His forehead pressed against hers, as if he could anchor her to him by sheer force of will. "You're safe. You're going to be fine."
Her lips curved, faint, a ghost of her queenly composure even as her strength ebbed. "You… look worse than I do."
His laugh tore out, half-sob, half-disbelief. "God, don't joke. Don't—" His throat closed. He pressed harder against her wound, frantic. "They'll fix this. They'll fix you. Just hold on."
Hands tried to pull him back—guards, medics rushing with a stretcher. He snarled, a wounded animal, refusing to let go.
"She stays with me," Sebastian snapped, his voice carrying across the chaos, silencing the room. "Do you hear me? I don't care who you are—she stays with me!"
And no one dared argue.
The stretcher lowered beside him. Sebastian gathered her himself, lifting her as though she were spun from glass. Blood seeped into his torn shirt, but he didn't notice. His world was only her—her shallow breaths, her pale face against the glow of warehouse lights.
As they carried her toward the ambulance, Sera's lashes fluttered. Her voice, weaker now, brushed his ear. "Always… right?"
Sebastian's vision blurred. He pressed a kiss to her hair; a vow sealed in salt and iron. "Always."
The night had begun with chandeliers and applause. It ended with blood on silk and a boy carrying his queen through ruins.
-----
Selene's POV
From the shadows of the warehouse, Selene Blackwell watched.
Her blade was still slick from cutting down one of Hector's men, her own chest heaving with the aftershock of violence. Yet it wasn't the blood on her hands that hollowed her—it was the sight ahead of her.
Her twin, broken and bruised, cradled Seraphina Valmont like she was something sacred. His jaw was tight, his eyes wild with a grief she had never seen in him. Not even as children. Not even when he'd been exiled.
For years, Selene had told herself Sebastian's softness was his weakness, that his heart would undo him. But now…
Now she saw the truth.
He wasn't weak. He was terrifying. Because for Sera Valmont, he would burn the world to ash.
"Always," he whispered into the girl's hair, the vow slicing through Selene like a blade.
The medics hurried them into the waiting ambulance; guards barked orders, and police secured the perimeter. The dynasty heirs stood scattered, stunned into silence. Yet in the chaos, Selene only saw her twin.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure whether Seraphina Valmont had saved her brother—
Or doomed him.
Selene's hands curled into fists, nails biting her palms.
If Sera lived, the Valmont heiress would never be just Sebastian's love.
She would be his undoing.
Or his crown.