Seraphina's POV
Toby walks ahead of me down a hallway I've never noticed before.
"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice smaller than I'd like.
"Maggie wants to meet with you properly," he says without slowing down. "She doesn't do casual conversations. When she decides to teach you something, you'd better be ready to listen."
My stomach is twisting. After Maggie's entrance last night, the idea of spending time with her alone terrifies me. She looked at me like I was a problem to be solved. Or worse—a piece in her game.
We arrive at a massive wooden door. Toby knocks and enters without waiting for an answer. The office beyond is stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook all of Manhattan. The city spreads below us like we own it. And sitting behind an enormous desk is Maggie Ashford.
She's different in daylight. More polished. More dangerous. She's wearing black, and her silver hair is pulled back so tight it seems to pull at her skin. Her eyes track my movement like she's a predator and I'm definitely prey.
"Ah, good. You came," she says, gesturing to a chair across from her desk. Not a question. A command.
I sit. My hands are shaking.
"Your husband is obsessed with you," Maggie begins, not bothering with pleasantries. "It's both his greatest strength and his most dangerous weakness. You understand that?"
"No," I say honestly.
"Of course you don't." She stands and walks around her desk, perching on the edge. From here, she looms over me. "Damien has spent twenty years building an empire. He's killed hundreds. Made billions. Controlled entire territories of this city. And then he saw you."
My heart is pounding.
"One girl. That's all it took to break his entire system." She leans forward. "Do you understand what that means?"
"That he loves me?" I whisper.
Maggie's laugh is cold. "That he's vulnerable. Love and obsession—they're the same thing in our world. They're weaknesses. They're exploitable." Her eyes bore into mine. "And now that you exist, every enemy he's ever made knows exactly where to strike."
"So I'm a target."
"You're a liability," Maggie corrects. "The question is whether you can become an asset." She walks back behind her desk and sits. "Damien won't let anyone hurt you. But what happens when an enemy doesn't want to hurt you—what happens when they want to use you?"
I don't answer because I don't know.
"They'll seduce you. They'll threaten you. They'll make you promises and show you your family's suffering and convince you that the only way to save them is to betray Damien." Maggie's voice is matter-of-fact. "I've seen it before. Beautiful women, weak women, who couldn't handle the weight of this world. They cracked. They ran. They betrayed."
"I won't—"
"You will," Maggie interrupts. "Unless I teach you how not to." She stands. "My grandson needs a queen. Not a liability. A queen understands power. She understands sacrifice. She understands that sentiment gets people killed."
She circles me the way she did last night, but this time it's slower. More measured. More menacing.
"I built this empire alongside my husband," she continues. "I watched him rise. I watched him fall. I buried him and took over his operations at seventy-two years old. Do you know why I survived when other women in his life didn't?"
"No."
"Because I was willing to do things that would make you weak in the knees." She stops in front of me. "I was willing to kill my own daughter to protect the family. I was willing to sacrifice everyone I loved for power. That's what it takes."
My blood turns to ice.
"Your daughter?"
"Damien's mother." Maggie's expression doesn't change. "She was a weakness. She wanted out. She was going to run and take my grandson with her. She was going to destroy everything we'd built."
"You killed Elena?" I whisper.
"No." Maggie sits back down. "I gave her the choice. Leave Damien and live, or take him with her and die. She chose to run. My husband chose to execute her for her betrayal." Maggie's hands are folded perfectly on the desk. "Damien watched it happen. He was twelve years old. And that's when he understood—love is a choice to sacrifice or a choice to survive. You can't have both."
I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"He became what he is because of you," I say quietly. "Because you let his mother die."
"I became what she is because of choices." Maggie's voice doesn't waver. "And now you need to make your own."
The door opens. Damien stands in the frame. He looks every inch the monster Maggie described—dark, powerful, dangerous.
"She doesn't have to do this, Grandmother," he says quietly.
I turn to look at him. And despite everything—the murder, the manipulation, the confession that his grandmother killed his mother—I understand something.
He came to get me out.
He came because he knows what Maggie does to people.
"Yes, I do," I hear myself say. Everyone in the room goes still. I lift my chin. "If I'm going to survive this, I need to be strong. I need to understand your world. I need to stop being afraid." I look at Maggie directly. "Teach me."
Damien's smile spreads across his face. It's dark and possessive and absolutely terrifying.
"That's my queen," he says.
But Maggie's expression changes. For the first time, she looks uncertain. Like she's seeing something in me she didn't expect.
"Interesting," she murmurs. She stands and extends her hand. "Tomorrow, we begin your real training."
I take her hand to shake it. Her grip is iron.
"First lesson," she says, pulling me close so only I can hear, "is learning that the person you trust most is always the one who betrays you."
She releases me and I stumble backward, directly into Damien's arms. He catches me, pulling me close to his chest.
"What did she say to you?" he asks quietly.
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out.
There's a photo on my screen.
My father in a hospital bed. Machines surrounding him. Blood on the sheets.
And a message: "He had an accident. You have 24 hours to decide whose side you're really on."
The message is from a number I don't recognize.
My hands drop. The phone falls.
"What is it?" Damien demands. "Seraphina, what happened?"
I can't speak. I can only stare at the image of my father, broken and bleeding, with no explanation of how he got there or who did this.
Maggie's voice cuts through the silence: "Lesson one complete. Welcome to the war, Mrs. Ashford."
And I realize: The game I thought I was playing isn't a game at all.
It's a war.
And I just declared myself a soldier.