Page 5 of Savage Crown

And everything stops.

The air turns razor-sharp, my veins ice over. My pulse thrums once—hard.

I recognize the seal stamped onto this parchment.

I know exactly who it belonged to.

Because this paper should not exist.

And if she stole it from Lartina, it means one thing.

Lartina has been keeping secrets from me.

Very dangerous secrets.

I glance, staring down at the human before me.

She may have just changed everything.

I take a deep breath and asks, “What’s your name, little human?”

“Seraphina.”

“Seraphina,”I repeat, gazing into her eyes. “I’d rather call you little thief.”

3

SERAPHINA

Rylan leans against the desk, studying me like I’m something sharp and dangerous—like he’s trying to decide whether to keep me or cut me loose. I roll my eyes at his comment about my name.

“Little thief,” he muses, rolling the words over his tongue like smoke curling from a dying ember. “It suits you.”

I hate the way my body reacts to his voice—low, edged with amusement but sharp enough to cut. I clench my fists against my thighs, forcing my spine straight despite the exhaustion clawing at my limbs.

I can’t afford to appear weak.

Not here. Not in his presence.

The Midnight Den is more than just a hideout—it’s a lair, a nest woven with secrets and whispered threats. I can feel the weight of them pressing against my skin, coiling around my throat like an invisible noose. Every flickering torch in the chamber casts shadows in shades of black and silver, and the smell of parchment, ink, and something darker—him—fills the air.

Rylan moves with the unhurried grace of a predator, circling me with all the patience of a man who already knows he’s won.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, tilting his head. His voice is smooth, velvet lined with steel. “Did you plan to die on my floor, little thief?”

I force my breath steady. “Not tonight.”

His smirk is a slow, dangerous thing. “Good.”

I don’t flinch when he reaches for me, but my muscles coil tight as he brushes his fingers over the bloodstained fabric at my side. A mere whisper of a touch, but enough for me to notice the heat radiating from him. His hand lingers for a moment too long, like he’s testing something, before he pulls away.

A game.

Everything with him is going to be a game.

I force myself to hold his gaze. “Are you going to take the deal or not?”

His fingers drum lazily against the edge of the desk. “Desperate and impatient. A bad combination.”

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