Chapter14
1524 Words
The Threat
POV: Serenye
I stared at the photo on my phone screen, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the device. That little girl. That crown. Those parents who'd been ripped away from me fourteen years ago.
How? How did someone get this photo? I'd destroyed everything from my past. Damian had made sure of it. Every record, every picture, every trace of Princess Seraphina had been erased.
Except this one. My heart hammered against my ribs. My breath came in short, sharp gasps. The bathroom walls seemed to close in around me.
Think. Think, dammit.
I picked up the phone with trembling fingers and opened the hidden messaging app Damian had installed. The one that couldn't be traced, couldn't be hacked. I typed quickly.
"Someone knows. They have a photo. What do I do?"
The response came within seconds.
"Stay calm. Where are you?"
"Restaurant. Downtown. On a date."
A pause. Then: "Act normal. Return to the date. I'll handle this."
"How? Who could possibly.."
"I SAID I'LL HANDLE IT. Do not panic. Do not deviate from your mission. This changes nothing."
But it changed everything. Someone out there knew who I really was. Which meant they might know why I was here. What I was planning. They could expose me at any moment.
Unless that's exactly what they wanted. To keep me on edge. To control me.
Another message came through: "Trust me, little wolf. No one will hurt you. I've kept you safe for fourteen years. I won't fail you now."
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Damian was right. He'd always protected me. Always. I needed to trust him now.
I splashed cold water on my face, careful not to ruin Lyanna's makeup work. Checked my reflection. The color had drained from my face, my eyes too wide, but otherwise I looked presentable.
I could do this. I'd been trained for every possible scenario. A threatening text didn't change anything.
I walked back to the table on shaky legs. Drake stood immediately, concern etched across his handsome features.
"Hey, are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just, the wine hit me harder than I expected. And maybe the pasta. I'm not used to such rich food."
Drake moved to my side, his hand gentle on my elbow. "Do you want to go home? We can call it a night, no problem."
Home. Back to the mansion. Back to Sebastian and Caius and Lyanna. Back to pretending everything was fine while someone out there held my entire life in their hands.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I think that would be best."
Drake paid the bill quickly, his attention never leaving me. He kept his hand on the small of my back as we walked to his car, opened my door, made sure I was comfortable before closing it.
As he walked around to the driver's side, I checked my phone again. No new messages. Just that photo staring back at me. Princess Seraphina in all her innocent, doomed glory.
I deleted the message. Then deleted it from the trash. Then cleared the cache for good measure. Drake slid into the driver's seat. "Seatbelt."
I buckled up, watching the city lights blur past as he pulled onto the main road. The silence between us felt heavy, loaded with everything unsaid.
"I'm sorry," I finally spoke. "This wasn't how I wanted tonight to end."
"Don't apologize." Drake glanced at me, his expression soft. "These things happen. We can always try again when you're feeling better."
We drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Drake's posture changed. Stiffened. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then back to the road.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Probably nothing." But his jaw was tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder. "There's a black SUV behind us. Has been since we left the restaurant."
My blood went cold. I turned to look through the back window. Sure enough, a large black SUV with tinted windows sat three cars behind us, matching our speed perfectly.
"Could be a coincidence," I said, but my voice wavered.
Drake made a sudden right turn. The SUV followed.
"That's not a coincidence." He pressed the accelerator, the Mercedes engine purring as we sped up. "Hold on."
"What are you doing?"
"Making sure we're actually being followed." Another sharp turn, this time left. The SUV stayed with us. "s**t. Okay. New plan."
The SUV suddenly accelerated, closing the distance between us. It pulled into the lane beside us, its dark windows reflecting the streetlights.
"Drake.."
"I see it." His voice was completely calm now, controlled in a way I hadn't heard before. Not the sweet, nervous guy from dinner. This was someone else. Someone trained. "There's a gun in the glove compartment. Can you shoot?"
"What?" My hands flew to the glove compartment. Inside, nestled among papers and a phone charger, was a sleek black handgun. "Why do you have a gun?"
"Why are people following you?" he countered, flooring the accelerator.
The Mercedes shot forward, engine roaring. We weaved between cars, Drake handling the vehicle like he'd done this a thousand times. The SUV kept pace, aggressive, and relentless.
"Who are you really?" I demanded, gripping the gun. "You said you were a professor's son."
"I am." He jerked the wheel hard, sending us down a side street. "My father teaches diplomacy. I teach defensive driving and tactical response. Surprise."
The SUV followed us down the side street. Then another one appeared ahead of us, blocking the road.
"Fuck." Drake slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into reverse. Tires squealed. The smell of burning rubber filled the air. "They're boxing us in."
He spun the wheel, whipping the car around in a tight 180. We shot forward down an alley, barely wide enough for the Mercedes. The SUVs couldn't follow, too big for the narrow space.
"There's a safe house," Drake said, his voice tight with concentration. "Ten minutes from here. We can lose them and regroup."
"A safe house? What the hell, Drake?"
"Questions later. Survival now." He burst out of the alley onto another street, checking mirrors constantly. "Are they behind us?"
I looked back. Empty road. "I don't see them."
"Good." He made a series of quick turns, doubling back, using every evasive technique possible. "Keep watching."
My heart wouldn't stop racing. The gun felt heavy in my hands. Real. Dangerous. Everything about this night had gone so wrong so fast.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, Drake pulled into an underground parking garage. He parked in a dark corner, killing the engine.
Silence.
"Stay here," he ordered, pulling his own gun from under his seat. "I need to make sure we weren't followed."
He slipped out of the car, moving with a grace and confidence that made me realize I'd completely misjudged him. This wasn't some spoiled rich kid playing at being tough. This was a trained operative.
What the f**k had I gotten myself into?
Drake returned a few minutes later, holstering his weapon. "We're clear. Come on."
He led me to an elevator, then up to the third floor. The hallway was plain, institutional. He stopped at a door marked 3F, using three different keys to unlock it.
Inside was sparse but functional. One room with a couch, a table, and a small kitchenette. A bathroom off to the side. No windows. Multiple locks on the door. A safe house indeed.
Drake locked the door behind us, engaging all the deadbolts. Then he turned to face me, and his expression was completely different from the sweet guy who'd brought me roses.
"Sit," he commanded, pointing to the couch.
I sat, still clutching the gun he'd given me. Drake pulled up a chair, sitting backward on it, arms crossed over the back. "Now. You're going to tell me the truth. All of it."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit." His amber eyes burned into mine. "People don't get followed by professional mercenaries unless they're into something deep. The way you handled yourself in that car, checking angles, tracking pursuit, you've had training. Real training. So I'll ask you again." He leaned forward. "Who are you really, Serenye Hale? And what kind of trouble have you brought to this pack?"
My mind raced. How much did I tell him? How much could I trust him? Was he part of this? Another player in whatever game was being played?
"I don't.."
The door exploded inward with a deafening crash. Wood splintered. Metal shrieked. The deadbolts meant nothing against the pure force that hit them. Four guards in Northern Crescent Pack uniforms rushed in, flanking the doorway. And behind them, eyes blazing gold, power rolling off him in suffocating waves..
Caius.
His wolf was right at the surface, barely contained. His gaze swept the room, landing on Drake, then me, then the gun in my hands. His lip curled back in a snarl that showed too many
teeth.
"Get away from my mate," he growled, the sound barely human. "Now."
- Writer
