Seraphina's Pov

“You want to go where?”

Giovanna’s voice cut through the stillness of the parlor like a blade, sharp with disbelief and laced with warning.

I stood there, unflinching, arms folded. “The Golden Stiletto. It’s the only lead that hasn’t burned to ash. Everything else hit a dead end. But this? It keeps showing up. And Kael…”

“Kael is a cop,” she interrupted, swirling the amber liquid in her crystal glass. “A confused one, from what I hear. And confused men get good women killed.”

I didn’t flinch. “So you’d rather I sit and wait for Sienna to wash up in pieces?”

Giovanna sighed, leaning back on the velvet settee. Everything about her screamed untouchable. Black silk robe, bare feet, and the same icy calm she wore the night she burned down a rival’s summer estate for looking at my father the wrong way.

She tilted her head, looking at me as if trying to remember who I used to be and who she let me become.

“You think you’re ready for that world?” she asked finally. “The Golden Stiletto isn’t some brothel or shadow market, sweetheart. It’s older than most empires and more twisted than anything you’ve seen in my empire.”

“I don’t care mom.” My voice didn’t shake. “If she’s there, if there’s even a chance, I’m going.”

A slow smile tugged at her lips. “You sound like me when I was your age. Stupid and angry and still soft enough to think love makes you brave.”

I stepped closer. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Another pause. Then she rose, moving to her desk, smooth and unhurried, like a queen deciding who to feed to the lions. She pulled open a drawer, revealing a red envelope sealed with her crest, the thorned crown.

“I’ll arrange your entrance,” she said, placing it on the table. “But once you go in, I can’t pull you out. You’ll have no back-up,. You’ll have no name. You’re nobody in there.”

“I already feel like nobody,” I muttered.

Giovanna didn’t look up. “Then you’ll fit right in.”

I reached for the envelope. Her hand shot out, grasping my wrist.

Her nails dug in slightly as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t trust anyone in that place. Not the women. Not the guards. Not the faces you think you remember. Especially not yourself.”

I met her gaze. “What does that mean?”

She smiled that same cold smile again, letting me go. “You’ll see.”

***

The car rolled to a stop in front of an unmarked building tucked between two abandoned textile factories. A single red neon light blinked above the entrance, shaped like the heel of a stiletto piercing the ground.

Fitting.

The place didn’t need signage. If you knew what it was, you were already in too deep.

Marcus glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “You sure about this?”

“I’m already out of options,” I said, stepping out before he could circle the car.

The doormen didn’t speak. Just nodded once when they saw me. One whispered something into a hidden earpiece. Probably to warn whoever ran the place that the devil’s daughter had just walked in.

I didn’t care.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the air changed. Thick with perfume, sweat, and something far more primal. The music was low and slow, a sultry beat that reverberated through the marble floor. Crimson lights painted shadows across leather booths and gilded columns.

Half-naked dancers moved like ghosts in the background. Patrons lounged like royalty, sipping dark liquors, eyes trailing every movement around them.

A woman with a shaved head and a tight black dress approached. She didn’t ask for ID. Just studied my face with narrowed eyes, then dipped her head slightly.

“Morano,” she murmured. “You’re expected.”

That made me pause. “Expected?”

She said nothing else. Just turned and motioned for me to follow.

The woman led me into a room on the second floor, glass walls overlooking the floor below. Plush couches, low lighting, and an open bottle of absinthe on the table.

A man leaned against the far window, dressed in black slacks and a grey button-down, collar undone. His build was sharp, his presence sharper. His eyes found mine, calculating and unreadable.

“You made good time,” he said.

“And you are?” I asked, not bothering to sit.

He smiled slowly. “Just someone who’s been watching the Moranos for a very long time. You’re here for the missing girl, right?”

I didn’t answer.

He gestured to the seat. “Relax, Seraphina. You’re safe here… for now.”

I didn’t move.

“I’ve heard things,” he continued, “about your sister. About what she was looking into before she disappeared. But if you want answers, you’ll need to play by the Stiletto’s rules. And those rules don’t favor bloodlines… even Morano ones.”

I finally sat, eyes narrowing. “Then let’s not waste time. Tell me what you know.”

He poured himself a drink. “No one gives information in here for free. Not unless they want something worse than death chasing them.”

I didn’t care but still, something in me itched. Not from fear, something deeper. Like recognition.

Like I’d been here before.

The man’s eyes lingered too long. His tone changed, slower, deeper, almost drunk on something I couldn’t name.

He moved closer.

“You’re not going to get what you’re looking for by asking questions,” he murmured, stepping into my space.

I didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll find someone who actually wants to talk.”

His hand gripped my wrist before I could turn.

“Let go of me,” I growled, trying to twist out of his grip.

The man chuckled. “You Morano girls think you’re untouchable.”

He shoved me against the wall, pinning my wrist above my head.

I moved fast, yanking my dagger from my thigh and slashing it across his side.

The blade shattered.

“What the…?” I muttered, staring at the broken steel in my hand.

He grinned and in that moment, something flickered in his eyes. Something not human. Not normal.

“What are you?” I breathed.

He didn’t answer.

He moved in closer

Bang.

The man’s body jerked, then collapsed at my feet. A hole in his head and blood spreading across the floor.

I looked up and everything inside me broke open.

“Lucien,” I whispered.

He stepped out of the shadows, still holding the gun. Still looking at me like I was both a memory and a ghost.

His expression was cold. But the way he looked at me…

I forgot how to breathe.

“You...” My throat tightened. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run to him and punch him in the chest until he gave me a reason, any reason,for disappearing, for canceling our engagement, for tearing out my heart and leaving it to rot.

But I couldn’t move.

Neither could he.

“Say something!” My voice cracked. “After everything… after you just… what the fuck are you doing here?”

His eyes flicked behind me.

His jaw clenched.

“If I were you,” he said, cocking his gun. “I’d run.”