Page 39 of Taming Seraphine

I round the table, wishing once again that I had taken my time killing Capello and his sons. The man’s sickness extends far deeper than that of the usual mafia boss. It’s the first time I’ve heard of a man willing to use his own children as a source of organ transplant.

“Seraphine?” I knock on the door.

She doesn’t answer.

“I’m coming in.” I pull down the handle and slip inside.

She lies face-down on her bed with her blonde locks spread across the pillow like a halo. The sight of her delicate figure trembling with sobs pulls at the withered fibers of my heart.

“What happened to your nanna wasn’t your fault,” I say.

As expected, she doesn’t respond.

“Promise me something,” I say.

Her head twitches.

“Promise me you won’t hurt yourself,” I say, my voice tight. “That you’ll save all your hurt and anger for the men who did this.”

She doesn’t move, not even to nod, so I lower myself onto the edge of her bed. “Look at me.”

She flinches at the command.

“Now.”

She turns onto her side and gazes up at me through blood-shot eyes. They’re the only sign on her features that she’s upset. I expect Seraphine has learned to hide her emotions as a form of self-preservation.

“I forbid you to inflict any pain, whether direct or indirect on yourself, is that understood?” I snarl.

Seraphine gives me a soft nod.

“Do you have any weapons hidden in your room?”

Her eyes narrow.

“Tell me.”

She reaches underneath her pillow and extracts a long, thin blade.

“Where did you get that?” I ask.

“From one of the men I killed,” she mumbles.

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

She hesitates.

I know why. It’s because she doesn’t feel safe. After what happened here with Billy Blue, I’m not surprised she’s always on alert. I could turn the room upside-down, but that would resolve nothing. If she’s ever going to break out of her compulsion to kill, she’s going to need to trust me to keep her safe.

“If I promised not to allow anyone to enter this apartment, would you hand over the rest of your weapons?”

She nods.

I rise off the bed and crouch beside it to look her in the eye. “Nobody but you and me will ever step through the front door without your express permission.”

“Alright,” she says, her soft voice a balm on my heart.

“Gather the rest of the weapons you’ve hidden.” I step back, letting her rise off the bed.

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