The sharp, measured beat of military boots reverberated across the marble floor of the art gallery. Heavy footsteps, slow but deeply intimidating, shattered the silence lingering in the dim restoration room.
Serin remained motionless on the cold marble floor. Shards of crystal glass were lightly embedded in her palm, dripping fresh red blood. But the pain in her fingers was nothing compared to the burning turmoil in her chest.
The Peach Blossom Tattoo roared, scorching her skin as though it meant to spread its searing poison directly into her main arteries.
A tall shadow emerged from the darkness of the gallery's entrance hall.
The man stepped across the neon light glowing from an emergency television screen. A pitch-black supernatural special-operations uniform wrapped his powerful frame, bearing no insignia or rank markings apart from the iron wolf insignia that reflected the murky light.
Behind his shoulders, a long coat fluttered softly, carrying the strange scent of the outdoors—a blend of bitter tobacco, rusted iron, and the chill of dark magic.
Kaelen Vance.
Twenty years had done nothing to erode the sharp line of the man's jaw. The faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow was still there, a silent witness to the night flames reduced the entire home of Serin's clan to ash.
Serin forced herself to stand. Her knees trembled violently, but she refused to appear weak before the butcher. Her hand brushed over her bloodstained silver gown, hiding the glowing tattoo on her chest beneath the folds of fabric.
"You trespassed onto private property without authorization, Commander Vance," Serin called out. Her voice was cold, measured, and impossibly thin—a final defensive wall built by a woman trained to conceal her wounds.
Kaelen stopped exactly five steps in front of the oak restoration table. His bottomless gray eyes fixed on Serin. There was no surprise in them, no guilt—only a cold emptiness that made the gallery's atmosphere feel even more frozen.
"The Command Force has full authority under Alert Status One," Kaelen replied. His voice was deep and hoarse, like stone scraping across ice. "A magical anomaly was detected peaking at this gallery's exact coordinates, Lady Serin."
Serin curved her lips into a deadly, scornful smile. "So, did you come here to carry out your military duty... or to finish what you failed to destroy twenty years ago?"
The words hung in the air, sharp as a razor. Yet Kaelen did not even blink. His gaze remained locked on Serin's face, taking in the perfection of that legendary flawless skin—an ageless beauty now paid for dearly with the torment of a curse.
"The Peach Clan has rotted into the earth, Serin," Kaelen replied flatly, as though he were merely discussing the weather. "I have no reason to cross half a continent just to hunt a ghost."
"A ghost?" Serin laughed aloud, her laughter steeped in the poisonous sorrow and vengeance that had settled there over decades. "This man slaughtered my entire family, erased my bloodline, and now stands here looking at me as though I'm nothing more than a stranger he met on the street. Cruel. An utterly unforgivable cruelty."
She stepped forward toward the table. "I know every inch of the monster who slaughtered my clan twenty years ago," Serin whispered, her emerald-green eyes radiating pure murderous intent.
Instead of retreating or denying it, Kaelen moved as swiftly as a shadow.
Before Serin could draw a breath or reach for the magic dagger hidden beneath the restoration table, Kaelen had already erased all distance between them.
THUD!
His black leather-gloved hand slammed hard into the stone pillar beside Serin's head, pinning her in place. The heat of Kaelen's breath met the icy cold beginning to spread from the corners of the room.
The scents of tobacco, rusted iron, and dark magic surrounded Serin's senses. They were so close—close enough for Serin to see the reflection of her own emerald eyes clearly mirrored in Kaelen's storm-filled gray irises.
Serin's breath caught in her throat. The muscles in her neck tensed as Kaelen lowered his head, bringing his lips to within nine millimeters of the side of her ear. The extraordinary chill radiating from the man's body crept over the pale skin of Serin's neck.
"You're still as beautiful as ever..." Kaelen whispered coldly, his voice like a knife scraping across glass. "...even though your eyes shine with enough hatred to kill me."
How will Serin react after being cornered by the butcher who slaughtered her family? Continue to Chapter 3 to see her retaliation!