SERAPHINA’S POV

By morning, Jack Draven’s capture had become more than a victory.

It had become proof.

Proof that he could bleed. That he could fall. That he wasn’t some untouchable force moving beyond consequence.

He was a man. Dangerous, twisted—but still a man.

And men could be dragged down.

The change in Nightfang was impossible to miss.

Representatives of the allied forces who had spent days moving beneath the weight of public fear now stood straighter.

Messengers crossed the courtyard with sharper purpose. Scouts laughed under their breath while comparing capture reports—the kind of laughter that came when exhaustion finally found something to lean on.

Even the OTS members stationed at the temporary base sent messages through Judy’s channels that sounded less brittle than they had before.

For the first time since Kieran’s announcement, hope no longer felt like something we were pretending to have for everyone else’s sake.

It felt real.

But that, in itself, was dangerous.

Hope could steady people, but it could also make them careless.

So when I entered Nightfang’s interrogation wing with Kieran at my side, I forced the cheers from the courtyard out of my head and held on to the cold truth waiting below us.

Jack Draven was captured, not defeated.

The dungeon air changed with every step downward, losing the warmth of daylight until only stone, iron, and the scent of old violence remained.

Nightfang’s holding cells had been reinforced before we brought Jack in.

Alois had layered suppression wards into the walls. Corin had added psychic pressure barriers. Kieran had ordered enough guards posted outside to look like a small army.

Still, despite the wards and barriers, when we reached the final door, I felt the darkness.

It pressed faintly against the other side of the reinforced steel.

Not psychic power exactly.

Not wolf aura either.

Something thicker. Hungrier.

Kieran stopped beside me.

“You feel that?”

“Yes.”

His jaw tightened. “We don’t stay longer than necessary.”

I looked up at him, and for a second, the dungeon disappeared beneath the fierceness of his eyes.

He was still furious.

Not in the explosive way Jack was furious, but in the quiet, controlled way that made Kieran far more dangerous.

Jack had attacked our home, our allies, our people. He had threatened me too many times to count, but I knew that was not the part Kieran was holding onto hardest.

Jack had made himself useful to Catherine and Marcus. Which meant every breath he took might still belong partly to them.

“I won’t be reckless,” I promised.

Kieran’s gaze softened only slightly. “I know.”

Then he opened the door.

Jack sat in the interrogation chair in the center of the room, wrists locked in silver restraints, ankles bound to the floor, torso secured by layered bands covered in Alois’s inscriptions.

Bruises darkened one side of his face. Dried blood marked his temple. Ashar’s claw marks had torn across his shoulder, already healing slower than they should have under the suppressants.

But his eyes...

His eyes were wrong.

Darkness had settled behind his gaze, so thick it was like staring into a void.

His gaze first snagged on Kieran.

“Alpha Kieran,” he drawled. “This brings back old memories, doesn’t it?”

Save for a low growl, Kieran didn’t reply.

Jack chuckled. “Guess I’m the only one feeling nostalgic.”

Then his gaze shifted to me, and he smiled.

“There she is,” he rasped. “The little silver miracle.”

I moved closer slowly, letting my power remain quiet beneath my skin. I stopped a few feet from Jack’s chair.

“You’re looking a little worse for wear.”

He laughed, low and ugly. “You, on the other hand, look fucking triumphant. You really think you’ve won?”

“We captured you alive.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His grin widened. “You just caught a body.”

The words slid strangely through the room.

Alois, who stood near the wall with Corin, frowned sharply. Ethan’s posture hardened beside the door.

Kieran’s voice dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack ignored him, gaze fixed on me with feverish intensity.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered, eyes burning. “That’s why you’re standing there so carefully. That’s why your pretty little power hasn’t come clawing into my head yet.”

His smile stretched. “Go on, silver wolf. Try.”

Corin’s warning brushed my mind immediately. ‘Careful.’

Slowly, I extended my awareness toward Jack.

The moment my power touched the edge of his mind, a supernatural darkness surged up—alien and more sentient than raw instinct.

I saw flashes, but they were distorted beyond ordinary memory.

Jack laughing through blood.

Marcus’s hand at the back of his neck.

Catherine’s voice murmuring words I could not fully catch.

A ritual circle beneath his feet.

Something black spreading through his veins like ink.

My power recoiled before I chose to pull back.

The room sharpened around me again.

Kieran’s hand was suddenly at my waist, steadying me.

“Sera.”

“I’m fine,” I breathed.

Jack’s cackle scraped against the walls.

“No, you’re not.”

I looked back at him, understanding now why his aura had felt wrong. It wasn’t simply corruption in the way Catherine’s work usually left stains on the mind.

Jack’s consciousness had been shrouded, buried beneath layers of darkness so dense that the human shape of him had almost vanished into it.

“You’ve been altered,” I said quietly.

Jack tilted his head. “Improved.”

“Is that what Catherine told you as she experimented on you?”

His smile twitched as he leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed. “You think your silver wolf and your psychic power make you some kind of messiah. But there are things even you can’t fix.”

The darkness in the room thickened with his words.

"I’d be more interested in breaking than fixing you," I replied coldly.

He chuckled again, a low rasping sound that grated. "By all means, go ahead. The more you hurt me, the stronger it gets. Pain feeds it. Fear feeds it. Rage feeds it.”

His eyes gleamed. “You could torture me for days, and all you’d do is make me worse.” 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

I arched a brow. "Is that a challenge?"

Jack’s smile sharpened, but his scent changed. Beneath blood, smoke, and dark power, fear stirred faintly.

“There is no counter to what’s inside me,” he insisted. “It’s innate now. Mine. You can bind me, starve me, carve me open, and it won’t matter.”

His voice dropped lower. “Even if you kill me, Catherine and Marcus will just bring me back.”

The room went very still.

Jack watched us absorb the words, clearly pleased.

“In a way,” he whispered, his eyes bright with what I could only describe as mania. “I’m unkillable.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then a small laugh slipped out of me.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You really believed them,” I said.

His expression hardened. “It’s the truth.”

“Is it?” I murmured. “You don’t just want us to believe you’re invincible. You need to believe it, too.”

His jaw flexed.

I took another step towards Jack.

“You know what Catherine does,” I continued. “You know what her version of bringing someone back actually means. You’ve seen the puppets. You’ve seen what remains when she is done cutting souls apart and stitching obedience into the gaps.”

“Shut up.”

There it was—a crack.

I lowered my voice. “If you die, Jack, Catherine won’t bring you back.”

His breathing changed.

“She’ll use what’s left of you.”

“Shut up!” he snarled.

“She’ll strip your wolf from your body if she can. She’ll preserve whatever part of you is useful. Your rage. Your strength. Your name, if Marcus needs it. But you?”

I leaned in just enough for him to see the certainty in my eyes.

“You won’t survive her. Whatever remains won’t be you. In fact, I’m not sure there’s enough you right now.”

The darkness around him pulsed violently.

The restraints flared as Jack lunged forward with a roar, but the chair held.

For one terrible second, whatever lived inside him tore close to the surface.

His eyes blackened completely. Veins darkened along his neck. The room trembled under the force of it.

“You don’t know anything!” he shouted, voice cracking through the rage. “My father needs me!”

“To be a scapegoat, maybe.” I shrugged. "Why else would he let you be captured?"

"He didn’t let me do anything," Jack hissed. "I defied him to attack you."

I scoffed. "You truly believe Marcus wouldn’t be aware of you mobilizing forces under his control? Come on, Jack, you’re not that stupid."

The silence that followed was worse than shouting.

Jack’s face twisted. For a moment, the arrogance vanished completely, leaving behind something raw and ugly and much more vulnerable than I expected.

Then the darkness surged back over it, smothering the crack.

“Get the fuck out,” he rasped.

I held his gaze for one more second. Then I turned away.

Outside the cell, the door sealed behind us with a heavy metallic thud.

Only then did I let out the breath I’d been holding.

Kieran was by my side instantly, his hand slipping through mine.

“That darkness,” he said.

“It’s not just defense,” I answered. “It’s feeding on him. Or he’s feeding it. I’m not sure which.”

Corin’s face was grim. “Either way, he’s extremely dangerous.”

I looked down the corridor toward the guarded exit.

For a moment, I thought of my mother locked somewhere in Catherine’s reach. I thought of the victims still waiting in hidden facilities, bodies and souls reduced to materials for Catherine’s ambition.

“And bait,” I whispered.

I looked at Kieran. His eyes were already on mine.

He understood before I spoke.

“Send the message to Marcus and Catherine,” he said.

My voice steadied into something cold.

“Tell them if they want Jack and the captured rogues alive, they will exchange them for Margaret Lockwood and every surviving victim they are holding.”

Corin’s brows lifted. “And if they refuse?”

I looked back at the sealed cell door.

Jack thought he was unkillable because Catherine had taught him death was negotiable.

I would teach him a different lesson.

"Then I’ll have a field day with Jack."