Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever

Seraphine slowly raised her hands, her movements calm, controlled, every inch of her body language screaming surrender even though her mind was still running at full speed, calculating, adjusting, refusing to slow down despite the gun aimed straight at her.

Then she turned to face him. "Did you bring the tampons?" she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips like she was brushing off the entire situation, like this was still part of some twisted dinner conversation instead of the moment everything could fall apart.

Santiago didn’t smile back. The warmth he had worn earlier was gone completely, stripped away to reveal something colder, something that made the air around them feel tighter.

"I never thought the FBI would send someone like you," he said, his voice low, steady, but edged with something darker. "So tell me... how did you pull it off?"

Seraphine let out a quiet breath, her smile stretching just enough to carry a hint of mockery. "You should probably stop asking questions and start thinking about what comes next," she replied. "Because this? This is the part where everything ends for you."

Her gaze held his, unwavering. "What do you think about all the people we just got out?" she added, her tone almost conversational, like she was curious about his reaction.

For a brief second, Santiago said nothing. Then he smiled, and that smile carried a mystery.

Before she could react, two bodyguards rushed in from behind, their grip locking onto her arms with rough force, dragging her back before she could twist free, their hold firm enough to make resistance pointless for now.

They hauled her all the way back to the dining room, the same place that had looked so polished and controlled earlier, now carrying a completely different weight as they threw her down without care.

Her body hit the floor hard, the impact sending a sharp jolt through her side, but she didn’t let it show. No flinch, no panic.

She lifted her head slowly, her expression calm, steady, like she was still the one in control of the situation.

Santiago walked toward her, his presence filling the space again. "Now we talk," he said, his voice smooth again, but there was no warmth behind it anymore. "You said my end has come?"

He crouched slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. "No one ends me."

Seraphine pushed herself up just enough to meet his eyes, her voice cutting through the space without hesitation. "You ended yourself the moment you asked me out."

That earned a reaction. A slow smile. "So you really believe an ant like you can bring me down?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, studying her like she had just said something mildly entertaining.

His gaze ran over her frame again, taking in her size, her build, clearly underestimating her in a way that almost worked in her favor. He knew he should kill her right there and then, but that dress kept tempting him, and he so much wanted to rip it apart and possess whatever was underneath it.

Seraphine let out a quiet breath, her lips curving faintly. "You’d be surprised what an ant can do," she said. "Especially when it bites back."

One of the guards let out a short laugh, another shook his head, but Santiago didn’t laugh. He watched her, carefully. "You know," he said slowly, straightening as he looked down at her, "I actually liked you."

There was something almost genuine in his tone, buried under everything else. "For a second, I thought maybe this could work. That I could finally settle down... have a real donner."

His expression darkened slightly. "But now..." he continued, his gaze sharpening, "you’re starting to remind me of someone."

He paused. "A female version of Voren."

That name hung in the air but Seraphine didn’t react outwardly, though she caught the weight behind it, the history, the tension wrapped around it. "At least he knows better than to cross me again."

A couple of the guards chuckled at that, clearly entertained by the idea, but something in Santiago’s expression tensed, just slightly.

"Again?" He repeated, his brows drawing together as he caught it immediately. "So he’s crossed you before?"

There it was. The opening she needed. Seraphine leaned into it without hesitation, her tone calm, almost casual, even as every second ticking by tightened the urgency in her chest.

She needed more time for Voren and Corvine to locate her. "He already paid for it," she said smoothly. "Trust me, he learned his lesson."

Santiago’s expression didn’t fully settle. Something about that didn’t sit right with him.

For a brief moment, his thoughts seemed to turn inward, connecting pieces, questioning things he hadn’t questioned before, and Seraphine could almost see it happening. The doubt, the curiosity, the irritation.

Good.

Let him think.

Let him hesitate.

Because if he started focusing too hard, he might notice things he shouldn’t, like how everything outside this room was already unraveling.

Her mind flickered briefly to the countdown she had set in motion, the systems she had already taken down, the timeframe they were working within.

Santiago’s voice pulled her back. "Tell me something," he said, his tone dripping with curiosity. "How did you manage to deal with Voren?"

He stepped closer, his gaze narrowing slightly. "I might learn something from that."

Seraphine looked up at him, a thin, knowing smile forming on her lips, her eyes steady, unshaken. "Don’t worry," she said softly. "You’ll get your own version of that story soon enough."

There was a quiet edge to her words, something that didn’t sound like a threat spoken in anger, but a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

She pushed herself up a little more, ignoring the tension in her body, her focus locked on one thing now.

Getting out. "I’ll make sure you understand exactly what happens when someone thinks they can control everything," she continued, her voice low but firm. "Because after tonight, regret is going to follow you everywhere."

One of the guards scoffed, another laughed under his breath but Santiago, he chuckled, amused.

"The nerve," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You really do talk like you’ve already won."

He stepped closer, close enough now that the threat felt tangible, his presence pressing down on her again.

"Alright," he continued, his tone almost conversational again, like he was offering her something reasonable instead of cornering her, "let’s try this one more time."

He tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction carefully. "You know how I operate, and you’ve already seen my world."

He paused. "Marry me," he said, his voice steady, almost persuasive. "Work with me."

Then, just as smoothly, the edge returned. "Or I put a bullet through your head." The room went still.