Page 1 of Taming Seraphine

PROLOGUE

SERAPHINE

To save my grandmother, I must murder a stranger.

Loud techno music pounds through my ears as I walk toward the Phoenix, a nightclub on the edge of Beaumont, New Alderney. Partygoers pass on my left in various states of drunkenness and traffic rumbles by on my right, everyone blissfully living their lives, unaware that I have been a captive for months.

I wonder if anyone even noticed I didn’t turn up at school.

Flashing blue lights catch my eye from across the road. A police car pulls into the Tropicana Bar, and a tall officer and his partner steps out.

My heart skips. I should shout, raise a hand, let them know that I’m being held hostage and being forced to commit a murder. As I turn toward the cops, the chip embedded behind my ear emits a snap of electricity.

Shit. This is worse than the old collar.

I glance over my shoulder, only to lock eyes with the handler, who raises his remote. My captors have left nothing to chance.

With one last deep breath, I focus on my instructions. I am to skip the line, tell the doorman that I’m joining Mario at his VIP table, enter the club, and not talk to anyone but my target. When my target has isolated me, I am to inject him with the syringe, and then escape through the fire exit.

Once my mission is complete, they’ll set Nanna free.

My throat tightens.

I must do this.

Moments later, I’m blinking away bright strobe lights and navigating through the club using the map they made me memorize. Before I even reach the VIP room, a pair of large hands grab my shoulders, and I’m crushed against a broad chest.

Nausea grips my throat, even though nothing he’s doing causes me any pain. I can’t stand to be touched—especially by men. This new captor’s eyes are already bloodshot and glassy. At about six-two, he eclipses me by a foot and looks even more imposing with his lanky frame. He stares down at me with a lazy grin.

“Wanna dance, blondie?” he slurs, the scent of stale alcohol heavy on his breath.

My jaw tightens. If he knew about the proverbial noose around my neck, he’d choose someone else to harass. I pull my arms out of his grip, but his fingers tighten around my arms.

“Let go,” I hiss at him through clenched teeth.

His grin widens. Of course, it does. This man sees me as nothing but sport. Even if he knew I’d been captured, tortured, violated, and corrupted, he wouldn’t give a shit. All he sees is a toy.

I reach for a hairpin at the back of my head, but his grip around my shoulders slackens. When I glance up at the man, he’s stumbling backward, his eyes now half-lidded. He falls, only to reveal a familiar and unwelcome set of eyes.

The handler shoves the man into a group of women hovering by the dance floor. His sharp nod is the only sign he gives for me to proceed.

With a gulp, I continue toward the VIP room and my target.

The guard at the door sweeps his gaze down my form, his eyes lingering on my bare legs. I’m wearing a pastel pink summer dress, a variation of something I would have worn when I was twelve, when I was still Daddy's little princess.

To my shock, the guard lets me into the VIP room. I can’t tell if it’s because nightclubs don’t give a shit about underage girls, or because he’s working with the handler.

The temperature immediately drops as I step inside, and goosebumps break out across my arms. I tell myself it’s from the cold, but a weight settles in my gut when the door slams behind me and the sound of the club on the other side disappears; the muffled thump of the bass matching the manic beating of my heart.

It’s really happening.

I’m really going to murder a man in cold blood.

After tonight, Nanna will be free.

Each table in the VIP room glows with a dim blue light that casts scant illumination over the men and women gathered around on sofas. Remembering my instructions, I force myself not to glance around for my target and make my way to the bar.

Like the tables in this exclusive space, the bar casts a gentle hue. I perch on a stool and make eye contact with the bartender, order a glass of water, and wait.

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