The Abyss was not only Mason's domain—it was also a battlefield.
Other immortals were stirring, whispering, plotting. They sensed Seris's potential and Mason's obsession.
She was a weapon. A key. And now, a pawn in a game far larger than she could comprehend.
But for the first time, she realized she could play.
With Mason's obsessive presence both a cage and a shield, she began to test limits: small rebellions, whispers of power, sparks of her goddess blood awakening.
And Mason noticed.
Always.
Even as she plotted, even as she defied, he stood behind her, a constant, dangerous gravity she could not escape.
"You push me," he said quietly one night. "And you do not yet understand what that means."
"I am not yours," she said, her voice trembling—not from fear, but from exhilaration.
"No," he replied. "But you will belong to me. And by the time you understand, it will already be too late."