SERAPHINA
The curtains were drawn halfway, allowing enough morning light to spill into the sitting room of the Finn estate.
The marble floors gleamed, and the air smelled faintly of old books and lemon tea.
Everything was calm, expensive and glowing.
I sat with one leg crossed over the other, a teacup resting delicately between my fingers as I surfed my phone, exchanging texts with one of the men who were supposed to handle Quinn.
“She got away.”
I read the text once, then again. My shoulders slumped in defeat, my feet dragging along the ground.
If it happened once, then it was a mistake, but when it happened again, it became a pattern.
At that point, I was forced to accept that Quinn was just ahead.
The next message came in. “People were already talking at the event, and eyes rai
