Chapter 5 Five

The city lights gave way to emptier roads, the kind of forgotten stretches where weeds clawed through cracked asphalt and neon had long since died. The drive stretched into silence, Kael's hands steady on the wheel, the hum of the engine the only reminder they were still in motion.

Seraphina stayed quiet, but her body thrummed with exhaustion and nerves. Every bump in the road, every flicker of headlights in the distance, she braced herself as if Dante's men would leap out of the dark.

But they didn't. Yet.

Kael finally veered down a narrow, overgrown lane that looked like it led to nowhere. The car rattled across uneven gravel until a looming shape appeared at the end- a squat, weathered house half-swallowed by trees. Windows boarded. Paint peeling. The kind of place no one would look twice at, if they even noticed it was there.

He killed the engine. For a moment, the silence pressed hard, thick and absolute.

"This is it," Kael said, voice low but decisive.

Seraphina stepped out into the night air. The quiet felt wrong, too still after hours of chaos. Her eyes swept the surroundings, cataloging everything. Overgrown brush. One road in. One road out.

Her gut said it was defensible. Good.

Kael walked past her, boots crunching on gravel. He unlocked the front door with a quick, efficient twist, and pushed it open.

Inside, the air smelled of dust and disuse, but it was clean. Spartan. A single room with battered furniture- a couch, a wooden table, mismatched chairs. A kitchen nook. A hallway leading to what she guessed were bedrooms. No clutter. No life. Just walls and shelter.

Kael flicked on a lamp. A pale yellow glow spread across the room, settling shadows.

"Safehouse?" she asked, stepping in cautiously.

"Mine," he said simply. "No one knows about it. Not even Dante."

Seraphina's chest loosened a fraction. She shouldn't have trusted the word safe, not after years of learning it was a lie, but something about the way he said it... it was final. Solid.

Her gaze slid over him as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair. The shirt beneath clung to him, outlining broad shoulders and a chest carved from discipline and violence. The tattoos inked along his forearms shifted with every movement, dark symbols half-hidden by shadow. His black hair fell carelessly across his forehead, untamed yet deliberate in its defiance.

He moved like a predator even when still, his frame tall and powerful, the kind of strength honed by violence rather than vanity. He was beautiful, yes- but in the way a storm was beautiful: breathtaking, merciless, and impossible to look away from.

And those eyes- green, sharp, alive even in exhaustion- landed on her. He didn't look away.

"You'll sleep here tonight," Kael said. It was not a suggestion.

Her chin lifted. "And you?"

"I don't really sleep much."

Her lips curled before she could stop them. "Well that explains the charming personality."

His gaze flicked to her, sharp but not cruel, as though measuring the audacity. Then, to her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched- the ghost of something like amusement. It was gone in an instant, but it left her pulse unsteady.

Seraphina crossed her arms, needing a shield against the heat that prickled under his stare. "Don't think I'm ungrateful for the walls and the roof, but if you're planning to keep me locked in here like another one of Dante's cages then-"

Kael's laugh was low, humorless. "Sweetheart, if I wanted you caged, you'd already be chained to the radiator."

The image sent a shiver through her, part memory, part warning, part something she didn't want to name. She forced her voice steady. "Then what's the plan?"

He leaned against the table, casual in posture but never in presence. "The plan is you don't move unless I say so. Dante's got half the city in his pocket. You step outside without me, you're dead before you hit the curb."

Her mouth twisted. "So my survival still depends on you."

"Exactly."

The word stung, but there was no denying it. She swallowed the bite of resentment, the taste of helplessness, and forced herself to breathe.

"You've got a bathroom down that hall," he said, gesturing. "Bedroom's at the end. Sheets are clean."

She nodded, moving toward the hall, but halfway there she stopped. Turned back.

"Kael."

He raised a brow.

"Earlier, you said you don't like taking orders. That why you're not Dante's dog anymore?"

His expression shuttered, green eyes going cold. "Don't push, Phina."

The nickname caught her off guard. It rolled off his tongue like he'd always known her, like they hadn't just met a few hours ago and come within inches of death.

But his face warned her the subject was closed.

Seraphina turned away, retreating down the hall before he could see the way her heart betrayed her with its uneven rhythm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The bathroom's cracked mirror reflected a woman she barely recognized. Pale, hollow-eyed, red hair tangled from wind and fear. But her gaze- dark, steady- was her own. Steel burned there.

She washed her face, scrubbed her skin raw until the ghost of Dante's handprint faded from her memory. Then she stepped into the bedroom.

It was bare but clean, just as he'd said. A narrow bed. A dresser. A window nailed shut. She sat on the edge of the mattress, letting the silence settle.

For the first time in years, she was out of Dante's reach.

For the first time in years, she could breathe without his shadow choking her.

And yet her freedom was tethered to another man. One just as dangerous. One she didn't understand.

Her fingers curled around the blanket. Don't be weak, she told herself. Weakness got people killed.

But exhaustion dragged her under before she could even finish the thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kael sat in the living room, cigarette smoke curling into the stillness. He watched the shadows, always alert.

The girl- no, the woman- was trouble. Not because she'd dragged Dante's wrath onto his doorstep. Not because she'd bargained for her life like she still had cards to play.

But because she didn't flinch.

Even broken, hunted, running for her life, there was fire in her eyes. Steel in her spine.

And Kael who'd long since stopped giving a damn about anyone's fire but his own, felt the faintest echo of heat.

He crushed the cigarette out. It was way too dangerous.

Too distracting.

He'd keep her alive. He'd use her against Dante. And when her usefulness ran out...

His phone buzzed. He answered without hesitation.

"Viper," a low voice greeted.

Kael didn't speak.

"Word is Dante's furious," the voice continued. "He's putting a bounty out. Half a million for the girl's head. A million for yours."

Kael's jaw tightened. Smoke still lingered in the air, but suddenly it tasted of blood.

"Alive or dead?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter. He just wants her erased. And now you're caught in the middle of it."

The call clicked dead.

Kael stared into the quiet house, the weight of the words sinking in.

Half a million. Every gunman, every rat, every hungry bastard in the city would be clawing for her.

He lit another cigarette, eyes narrowing, the ember flaring in the dark.

"Looks like your time's running short, Phina," he muttered to the empty room.

But the words sounded wrong, even to him. Because something deep in his chest whispered she wasn't just a mark anymore.

Not to him. To him... she was his salvation. He was going to use her to take everything Dante had and make it his.

But first, he had to keep her alive.