Seraphina Vale:Blood and power

Seraphina’s POV

“Arrghh! I hate Mondays.”

The words slipped out of my mouth before I even realized I’d said them. I groaned, rolling over on my silk sheets, my fingers brushing against the phone beside me. The screen glowed back at me — 3:07 a.m. Great. Another sleepless night.

I sighed and pushed myself upright, the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows spilling across my skin in soft golden streaks. The skyline of New York looked like a thousand watchful eyes, glittering and endless. Beautiful and empty, just like me. People say the city never sleeps, maybe that’s why I feel so at home in it.

Because neither did I.

I slipped out of my bed, my bare feet hitting the cold marble floor, as I walked towards the kitchen. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of electricity, and of emptiness. I poured myself a glass of water, letting the coolness calm the restlessness burning under my skin.

“So, real quick,” I muttered under my breath, “if anyone’s listening, this is my life.”

I am the youngest billionaire CEO in the country. Rich? Hell no. That’s an understatement. I am wealthy and successful. I’m the kind of woman headlines call untouchable. I’m every man’s fantasy and every woman’s envy. My face has graced so many magazine covers, my company dominates two industries, and my name opens doors people spend lifetimes trying to reach.

Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?

Except… it’s not.

Because beneath all of that glamour, I’m haunted, not just by my past, but by what I am.

I finished my water and set the glass down with a soft thud. Then, I tied my hair back, slipped into my sports bra and leggings. My gloves went on next, then my shoes, my towel flung over my shoulder. To me, working out wasn’t just therapy, it was survival. And when the nightmares clawed their way out of the dark, the gym was the only place I could bury them again.

My gym sat a few floors below my penthouse, one of the many perks of owning the entire building. I stepped into the private elevator, pressed the button for the thirty-sixth floor, and within minutes, the doors slid open to reveal my sanctuary.

The lights were dim, cold blue against glass and chrome. I dropped my bag, put my headphones on, and hit play. The bass sound vibrated through my chest as I began to move. Punch after punch, kick after kick. Each strike sharper, harder, and faster than the last.

My anger, my exhaustion, my secrets, all of it, I poured into every hit. The bag swung violently from the chains, my fists moving so fast, I didn’t even realize when my nails sliced through the gloves, shredding the leather and fabric as if they were paper. By the time I realized it, ten heavy bags were on the floor in ruins.

I stood there, panting, sweat slicking down my skin. My reflection in the mirrored wall looked almost inhuman, my eyes glowing faintly silver, my veins tracing delicate patterns beneath the surface.

“Damn it,” I muttered, pulling the headphones out just as I heard a faint shuffe behind me.

I turned sharply.

Three men stood frozen near the doorway, wide-eyed and pale. They were probably gym employees, judging by their matching shirts. But none of them spoke at first, they just gawked at the destruction around me.

“Did you—did you do all that?” one finally asked…stammering.

I smirked, rolling my shoulders back. “Yeah I did. You got a problem with that?”

He blinked. “I—uh—no, ma’am, I just—”

“I’d advise you not to finish that sentence,” I interrupted smoothly, tearing the ruined gloves from my hands. I grabbed my water bottle, took a long sip, and met their stares over the rim.

“Get this cleaned up,” I said finally, turning to grab my bag.

One of them had the nerve to scoff. “Who do you think you are, talking to us like that?”

I stopped. Then slowly, deliberately, I walked back towards him until we were chest to chest. He was taller, but I was the definition of fearless. I leaned in close, my breath brushing his ear as I whispered something only he could hear, words that made the blood drain from his face instantly.

He froze, trembling.

The others stared in confusion as he backed away from me like he’d seen a ghost.

“Psycho,” one of them muttered. “She’s probably some spoiled brat living off a rich boyfriend.”

I gave a soft, humorless laugh and brushed past him. “You’ll wish that was true,” I murmured, not bothering to turn around. “Have this place spotless by morning or I’ll make sure none of you sleeps peacefully again. And that’s not a threat.”

Not a single one dared to breathe as they were all silent.

They didn’t recognize me. Atleast not the face that smiled on Forbes covers or dominated financial news, and I like it that way. It made days like this easier.

By the time I returned to my penthouse, it was already dawn. And here I was, pretending that breaking ten punching bags wasn’t my version of therapy.

I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag near the door.

Enough playtime. Now it was time to work.

I leaned against the window for a long moment, watching as the sun climbed higher. The city looked beautiful from above and by the time the first rays hit the sky, I had convinced myself again that I could be normal, at least for a few more hours.

I headed straight to the bathroom, turned the faucet on until the steam filled the air. I liked my showers hot, hotter than any human could withstand. I don’t know why, but either ways, the heat steadied me, melting away the tension coiled in my veins.

When I stepped out, the mirror was fogged, and my reflection was just a hazy outline. Sometimes, I wondered which version of me it showed, the woman the world adored, or the thing that lived beneath her skin.

With a flick of my fingers, soft music filled the penthouse. I dried myself, applyed my skincare, not that I needed it anyways but doing things that humans did, was my own way of letting myself believe I was one of them. I slipped into a fitted silk blouse and black pencil skirt, and fastened the delicate silver ring around my right hand.

The ring pulsed faintly as it touched my skin. It acts as a suppressor, to help keep my powers in check, and also a reminder that without it, I was too powerful.

I checked my phone, seventeen missed calls, most of them from Nicole, my PA. The rest were meeting reminders, messages, press schedules. The usual chaos of an empire waiting for its queen.

I stepped into my private elevator and rode it down to the basement level where my driver waited. The moment he saw me, he straightened up and opened the door.

“Good morning, Ms. Vale.”

I gave a small nod and slid into the back seat. The scent of lavender and jasmine, my signature perfume lingered in the air.

I gazed out the window, watching the lights blur past. My reflection stared back at me cool, composed, beautiful, and dangerous.

And then, softly, I smiled.

If only I’d known that before the week ended, my carefully built world would begin to crack, starting with one unexpected visitor.

Now it’s time i let you into my world.

I am Seraphina Vale. A hybrid — half vampire, half witch.

And this is just the beginning.