The Savior He Rejected For Her Evil Sister

Seraphina POV:

The elevator ride was a claustrophobic nightmare. My body obeyed the Alpha Command, betraying my will.

The doors slid open. The scent hit me like a physical wall: Rain, ozone, and dark chocolate. Dante. But it was tainted by something cloying—rotting flowers masked by expensive perfume. Isabella.

The living room offered a panoramic view of Chicago, but the real show was on the leather sofa. Isabella was draped over Dante, purring like a satisfied cat.

Dante looked up. His eyes, no longer clouded but piercing blue, narrowed. He looked at me, but he didn't see me.

"You took your time," Dante rumbled. He kept a possessive hand on Isabella's thigh.

"I was packing," I said flatly.

Isabella giggled. "Daddy said you're finally leaving. Going to London to hide your shame?"

Dante's gaze was contemptuous. "You're leaving because you can't stand to see her happy. Because you're a jealous, bitter little thing."

He tossed a cream-colored envelope at my feet. "Pick it up. Open it."

My fingers brushed the heavy cardstock. The Marking Ceremony of Alpha Dante Moretti and Isabella Vitiello.

"You aren't leaving tonight," Dante declared. "You will stay. You will watch me claim her. And once you witness true loyalty, you can crawl back to your hole."

He wanted to break me. He sensed the old love I held for him and wanted to weaponize it.

"Congratulations," I said. The word was hollow.

Dante flinched. My indifference grated on his wolf. "Get out," he growled, confused by his own irritation. "We're going to the Blue Note. You're coming. You can carry Isabella's purse."

The wind outside the jazz club bit through my thin coat. I walked three paces behind them, clutching Isabella's sequined bag like a servant.

Above us, the club's massive neon sign buzzed ominously. I heard the metallic snap of a rusted bolt giving way before I saw it.

"Isabella!" Dante roared. His reflexes were supernatural. He tackled her, shielding her body with his own, rolling them to safety.

He didn't look back.

I looked up. Blue neon death was plummeting toward me.

I tried to dodge, but my reflexes were dull.

Crash.

Agony exploded. The heavy metal frame slammed me into the concrete, pinning my legs and torso. Glass rained down like shrapnel.

"Ahhh!" The scream tore from my throat.

The frame was silver-plated. Smoke rose from my skin as the metal seared into me, sizzling like meat on a grill. The poison entered my bloodstream instantly.

Through the haze, I saw Dante standing up. He was frantically checking Isabella.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, panic lacing his voice.

"I... I think I scraped my elbow," Isabella whimpered, holding up a pristine arm.

Dante kissed the phantom wound.

He didn't look at the wreckage. He didn't look at the girl crushed beneath the burning silver.

Darkness encroached. So this is it, I thought. I die again, watching him save the wrong girl.