SERAPHINA’S POV
By morning, Jack Draven’s capture had become more than a victory.
It had become proof.
Proof that he could bleed. That he could fall. That he wasn’t some untouchable force moving beyond consequence.
He was a man. Dangerous, twisted—but still a man.
And men could be dragged down.
The change in Nightfang was impossible to miss.
Representatives of the allied forces who had spent days moving beneath the weight of public fear now stood straighter.
Messengers crossed the courtyard with sharper purpose. Scouts laughed under their breath while comparing capture reports—the kind of laughter that came when exhaustion finally found something to lean on.
Even the OTS members stationed at the temporary base sent messages through Judy’s channels that sounded less brittle than they had before.
For the first time since Kieran’s announcement, hope no longer felt like something we were pretending to have for everyone else’s sake.
It felt real.
