LOGINIt was 7 in the morning when I woke up to train with Lucien, the sun was already up. The light was hitting the windows of the manor, bright and unforgiving. He gave his reason as the early morning is the best time to train, so here I was in leggings and a t-shirt running laps around the garden and sweating through my clothes about to pass out from exhaustion. My lungs felt like they were on fire, and every step I took on the gravel path sent a jolt of pain up my legs.
I am currI woke up to a soul-splitting headache that felt like my skull was being ripped open. I couldn’t even find the words to describe the sensation; it was a rhythmic, agonizing throb that made every movement feel like a chore. The influx of morning sunlight pouring through the curtains did nothing to help. In fact, the brightness only intensified the pain, stabbing at my eyes. ‘I really hate mornings today,’ I thought, pulling the covers over my head. Usually, I would be up and about, tidying my things and minding my business, staying productive to keep my mind quiet. But today, I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to be one with my mattress, to sink into the fabric and disappear. The conversation from yesterday kept replaying in my head like a cursed record. The truth about where I came from—the Valentine blood, the Blackwood lineage, the twin brother I never got to hold. It hurt. I felt fresh tears prick at my eyes at th
My father was executed... by his? “Look, I know you may hate me for what my father did,” Lucien started to speak, his voice desperate to bridge the widening gap between us. “But that doesn't—” “Get out.” I cut him off before he could finish another word. The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out, replaced by a cold, suffocating vacuum. He looked hurt—genuinely wounded that I would dismiss him so easily—but I didn't have any sympathy left to give. “Seraphina, I know—” he tried again, taking a step toward me. “You don’t know anything, Lucien!” I screamed at him. The sound ripped from my throat. “You can’t even begin to fathom what I feel right now!” I could feel the agitation vibrating in my limbs, the power in my blood reacting to the sheer chaos of my heart. “My entire birth family is dead, and it’s thanks to your father,” I said, my voice wobbling on the final word. “So don’t you da
Seraphina’s POV “Seraphina, we need to talk.” Those were the first words Lucien uttered to me, his voice low and vibrating with a tension that matched the storm inside my chest. What did we need to talk about? How he sent people to try to kill me? Or how he had gone to make arrangements with his people for my demise? I stared at him, my grip on the door handle so tight my knuckles were white. I felt like I was looking at a stranger wearing the face of the man I had started to trust. “We have nothing to talk about,” I said coldly. I looked directly into his eyes, checking to see if he would fluster or turn away, but he held my gaze with a haunting intensity. He looked... exhausted. “Yes, we do, Seraphina,” he said, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Can I come in?” He asked quietly, looking down at me. Up close, he looked like a man who had carried the weight of the entire world on his back for fa
I stared at Madame Vivienne in total shock, as if she had suddenly grown two separate pairs of heads, making it three. The words coming out of her mouth were so absurd they felt like a fever dream. “What do you mean, Seraphina and I are the reincarnations of Alaric and this ‘Serene’ woman?” I asked, my voice thick with disbelief. I couldn't fathom how such a thing was even possible. My mind was racing, trying to find a logical explanation for the madness. “It is a hypothesis, Lucien. I am going on the facts provided by what Seraphina experienced,” she explained calmly. “What she saw… or more like what that woman ‘wanted’ her to know,” I countered. I wasn't ready to accept that my soul was tied to a man who had committed such atrocities. “What she wanted her to see to manipulate her against me.” “What makes you think so?” she asked, feeling another wave of bone-deep tiredness wash over me. The
“I said, stand down.” Lucien’s voice sounded like a booming crack of thunder, ceasing all movement in the yard. Instantly, all the men who had come to capture me dropped to their knees, bowing down to him. The fight drained out of them in that second. Of course they would yield. He was their King. “Speak. Who sent you?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. Why was he putting on this show for me? It was obvious they were his goons. They wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t sent them. He was the one sitting on the throne; nothing happened without his permission. “What are you doing in my house?” he asked again, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to the kneeling men. “Your Highness, we were sent by the Council to bring in the hybrid for punishment,” the leader answered, keeping his head firmly bowed to the grass. I saw Lucien visibly tense up at those words. His broad shoulders went completel
Hybrid?Me? The word echoed in my head, mocking me. It had to be some sick, twisted joke. I wasn't anything of the sort. I was just a normal human. A girl who baked on her free time. I belonged in a kitchen with the smell of flour and sugar, not standing on a porch facing down a hit squad. “But you were adopted,”Serene’s voice rang out,reminding me of my unknown origin. It was true. I was adopted. My breath hitched in my throat as the realization settled in like lead. What if my birth parents were… part something? Oh God, no. If I wasn't fully human, the laws of would… “They would kill you. Just like they killed me,” Serene finished for me, her voice dripping with reserved sadness. ‘Lucien would do to you what Alaric did to me.’ I felt physically sick at the thought. I wanted to scream, to deny it, but the doubt was already a poison in my veins. What if Lucien hadn't authorized this? He wouldn't do this to me.
"Thank you, come again,” I said with a weary smile, waving goodbye to the last customer of the day.As the heavy glass door swung shut with a soft chime, the mask slipped. The exhaustion I’d been holding at bay all afternoon finally crashed over me. It curled into my muscles, turning every step i
The bakery was my sanctuary.It was the only place where the air didn't smell like fear and expensive wine. Here, it smelled of yeast, vanilla, and melting sugar. Here, I wasn't the disappointment of the Vale family; I was just the girl who made the best croissants in the city.I wiped down the cou
I didn't stop running until I was inside my room.I slammed the door shut and twisted the lock. Click.It wasn't enough. It was never enough.I grabbed the heavy oak chair from my desk and jammed it under the doorknob, wedging the legs against the floorboards. My hands shook so violently I almos
I didn't run. I couldn't. My father’s command had rooted me to the spot, and the sheer weight of old habits—of obedience born from fear—forced my legs to move.I walked to the table like a prisoner walking to the gallows."Good," my father grunted, gesturing to the empty chair directly across fro







