She hadn't eaten in two days.
That should've concerned me. But it didn't.
Because this wasn't about starvation. Not in the way most people thought. This was about refusal. About pride.
And Seraphina's pride was a fucking beautiful thing to witness.
I stood in the hallway outside her room longer than I should've. Watched her through the feed—a small black screen in my palm, showing her curled on the chaise like a coiled weapon, eyes alert, still, burning.
She hadn't broken.
Not even cracked.
But she'd looked at me differently today. For just one second. When I mentioned revenge.
And that—
That was the crack I needed.
"She's going to kill you," Kade muttered beside me, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "You know that, right?"
"She's going to try," I said.
"She'll enjoy it."
"I'm counting on it."
He glanced at the monitor, then back at me. "You've gone completely fucking mad."
"Probably."
Kade had been my right hand for over a decade. Ex-military. Loyal. Brutal when needed. But his loyalty had limits. He didn't like her here. Didn't like what I was doing.
"She's not like the others," he said.
I smiled. "That's the point."
He snorted. "No, I mean—she's not some broken orphan or desperate girl we can manipulate. She's been trained to kill people like you. She wants to."
"Exactly." I flicked the screen off and slipped it into my pocket. "And they sold her anyway. Like a pet they got tired of."
Kade frowned. "So this is about revenge?"
"No." I turned away from the door. "This is about evolution."
He didn't understand. He wouldn't. But I saw it in her. Buried beneath all that fire and hate was something far more interesting than loyalty or fear.
A hunger for something real. Something she's never had.
Control.
And I'd give her that.
Eventually.
But first, I'd have to break her chains without her realizing I was the one holding the key.
I headed downstairs to my private floor, where the real business of the Antonov empire took place—dark wood, leather chairs, files spread across my desk, and monitors streaming faces from every city I owned.
I sat down, poured a glass of vodka, and tapped the encrypted tablet beside me.
Her file glowed on the screen.
Seraphina Vale. Codename: Whisper.
Born in ashes. Raised in silence. Trained by one of the most covert syndicates in Eastern Europe. Perfected into a ghost. A killer with no fingerprints, no attachments, no past.
Until they sold her.
For a seat at my table.
Idiots.
They'd offered her like a trinket, a show of loyalty, assuming she'd bend, assuming I'd see her as a weapon to wield.
But I didn't want a weapon.
I wanted her.
All the rage. All the resistance. All the shattered pieces she refused to show anyone.
She wasn't here to be controlled.
She was here to be reborn.
There was a knock at the office door. Quiet. Familiar.
Vanya stepped inside—my fixer. Elegant, sharp, and terrifying in her own way.
"She's still refusing everything," she said.
"Good," I murmured.
"She's not afraid of you."
"She will be."
Vanya arched an eyebrow. "I thought fear wasn't the goal."
"It's not." I drained the vodka and set the glass down. "But it helps sharpen desire."
She gave me a look—half amused, half annoyed. "You always did prefer the dangerous ones."
"Because they're the only ones worth breaking."
A pause.
"Or being broken by?"
I didn't answer. Because even I didn't know yet.
Seraphina Vale was a blade. And I was going to bleed.
But only when I chose to.