Page 15 of Taming Seraphine

TICK, TICK, TICK.

The clock won’t shut the fuck up, and I’m starting to take this personally. My fingers twitch toward the pistol digging into my waistband, the real source of my back pain.

I crack open an eye, only for the sun to sear my retinas with bright light.

Damn it.

Hours have passed, judging by the painful glare, and I’m still half drunk. When I open my eyes again, it’s to peek through my lashes. I can’t sleep all morning. I have responsibilities. Someone needs to check on the girl, give her breakfast, coax her out of the room. She’s spent so much time locked up in a basement that she doesn’t know how to be free. I also need Miko to follow those leads I gathered from the poker crew.

I crack my eyes open a few extra millimeters. The light stings, but I’m ready for the burn.Wake up, you lazy fucker. You have responsibilities. You can’t pick up a stray and leave her to her own devices.

My eyes snap open, and all I see is blood.

Blood coats the floors, the walls, the sofas. Blood runs down the fronts of the poker crew’s shirts. It’s everywhere.

Alarm explodes through my chest, propelling me out of the armchair.

Fuck.

I pull out my pistol.

Someone just killed six men in my living room while I was too drunk and stoned to notice. Adrenaline surges, sharpening my senses. My heart pounds hard and fast, sending sensation to every nerve ending. I glance around, searching for signs of movement.

Everyone is dead, from Larry the delivery driver to Nathan, who mowed the Capellos’ lawn.

Shit.

Why did the killer leave me alive? I need to investigate. Need to find out who the hell infiltrated my apartment. Need to know if this was an act of revenge for killing Capello or something else.

My heart skips a beat. Did they take the girl?

Cold sweat breaks out across my brow and trickles down my back. I don’t give a shit about the poker crew. They were temporary allies I’d gathered to complete the Capello job, but I do give a shit about Seraphine. I charge through the living room, my feet sticking in the congealed blood, and burst through her bedroom door.

The bed is empty, but the room is coated in blood. Billy Blue from Capello Casino sits dead on the floor, his eyes wide open, his mouth slack.

What the hell happened?

There’s no time to ask why he was in her room. Not when whoever else might have tortured her in that basement could have taken her back to another hellhole. Not when Anton might have put two and two together and worked out the location of his missing Lolita assassin.

I’m out of the door in an instant, my mind racing for clues.

“Seraphine,” I roar.

There’s no answer.

She’s either dead or suffering a punishment that will make her beg for oblivion. It was supposed to be different with Seraphine. What was the point of all that training if I couldn’t protect one girl?

My feet skid to a halt. What about the cameras? I could watch the footage, see who snuck in to take the girl, track their registrations, and?—

I need Miko to pull up the footage.

Glancing from side to side, I skim the blood-covered remnants of poker night. Beer bottles, open pizza boxes, plastic chips, eight dead men with their throats slit, but no sign of my fucking phone.

Did I leave it in the kitchen?

My footsteps are loud and sticky across the tacky floor. I fling the door open to find a small blonde figure standing at the counter between the sink and the stove.

“S-Seraphine?” I rasp.

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