Adrian's POV(Dante's mind)
I slammed my chamber doors open, chest heaving from running.
Guards filled my room—six of them in Cassian's golden armor, standing in a circle. They were laughing at something on the floor.
No. Someone.
"What's going on here?" I demanded.
The guards turned, surprised. One captain with a scar on his face grinned wickedly. "Just delivering your wedding present, Your Highness. Prince Cassian's orders."
He stepped aside, and I saw her.
A woman knelt on the floor, wrists chained behind her back. Her clothes were rags, filthy and torn. Someone had chopped her silver-blonde hair short with rough cuts, like they'd used a knife instead of scissors. Bruises covered her exposed arms. A slave brand burned into her neck—fresh enough that the skin around it was still raw.
But what caught me wasn't the dirt or the scars.
It was the way she held herself. Straight-backed. Head up. Like even on her knees in chains, she refused to break.
Her green eyes blazed with hatred hot enough to burn.
"A slave for a useless prince," the scarred captain said, his tone mocking. "Prince Cassian thought you might need help figuring out what to do with her. Want us to show you how it's done?"
The other guards laughed harder.
Red rage flooded my vision. In my old life as Dante Russo, I would've killed every man in this room. Slowly.
But I wasn't Dante anymore. I was Adrian—weak, powerless Adrian who'd never won a fight in his life.
I had to be smart, not strong.
"Get out," I said coldly.
The captain raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness?"
"I said get out. Now. Before I report to my brother that his guards disobeyed a direct order from a prince."
The threat was thin. Everyone knew I had no power. But even a useless prince could make complaints. And Cassian, for all his cruelty, couldn't afford to look like his soldiers ignored royalty.
The captain's smile died. "As you wish, Your Highness. Enjoy your... gift."
They filed out, still chuckling under their breath.
The door slammed shut.
Silence filled the room except for the woman's harsh breathing.
I approached her slowly, hands visible. "Are you hurt?"
"Stay back," she snarled. Her voice was hoarse, like she'd been screaming. "Come one step closer and I'll kill you with my bare hands, chains or no chains."
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"All men say that." She tried to stand but stumbled. The chains were too tight, cutting off circulation. "Especially princes."
I stopped moving, keeping distance between us. In the mafia, I'd learned to read people fast—it kept you alive. This woman wasn't just angry. She was terrified under that rage. Expecting pain. Ready to fight even though she'd probably lose.
Someone had broken her badly. But she was still fighting.
I respected that.
"What's your name?" I asked quietly.
She laughed, bitter and broken. "Why? So you can pretend to care before you rape me?"
The word hit like a punch. Adrian's memories showed me the truth—slaves had no rights. Masters did whatever they wanted. The fact that she expected this meant it had probably already happened.
My stomach turned.
"I'm not going to touch you," I said firmly. "I just want to know who you are."
"I'm no one. A slave. A thing." Her green eyes burned into mine. "That's all you need to know."
"The servant said you were a general once."
Every muscle in her body went rigid. Fear flashed across her face before the rage covered it again.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said too quickly.
Lie. Definitely a lie.
I knelt down slowly, staying out of reach. "Look, I'm not your enemy. My brother gave you to me, which means this is part of some plan to hurt us both. So tell me the truth. Who are you really?"
She studied my face for a long moment, searching for the trap.
"Why do you care?" she finally whispered.
"Because Cassian is trying to kill me," I said bluntly. "And I think giving you to me is part of that. So either we're both his victims, or you're here to finish the job. Which is it?"
Something shifted in her eyes. Not trust—but recognition. Like she understood being hunted.
"Seraphina," she said quietly. "My name was Seraphina Ashford."
The name exploded through Adrian's memories like a bomb.
Two years ago. A massive trial. The Duke's daughter accused of treason against the crown. Her entire family executed—father, brothers, everyone. Their lands seized. The girl herself vanished, presumed dead.
"The Silver Phoenix," I breathed.
Her eyes widened in shock. "Don't call me that."
"You were the youngest general in the kingdom's history. You won three major battles before you turned twenty-three." Adrian's memories kept flowing. "The soldiers loved you. Called you the Phoenix because you rose through the ranks so fast."
"That woman is dead," Seraphina said, her voice cracking. "Cassian made sure of it."
"What happened?"
She looked away, jaw clenched. For a moment I thought she wouldn't answer. Then the words poured out like poison she'd been holding in too long.
"I found evidence. Secret documents proving Cassian was selling military intelligence to the Mordain Empire—our enemies. He was getting rich while our soldiers died." Her hands shook in the chains. "I tried to tell the king. But Cassian moved faster. He framed ME for treason instead. Made it look like I was the traitor."
My chest tightened. "Your family?"
"Executed. All of them. While I watched." Tears streamed down her face, but her voice stayed hard. "My father begged for mercy. My little brother was only fifteen. Cassian killed them anyway. Said traitor blood needed to be purged."
"And you?"
"I was supposed to die too. But Cassian decided death was too easy. He sold me to slavers instead." Her laugh sounded broken. "Spent two years in hell. And now I'm here. Given to the weakest prince like a joke. Cassian's final insult."
She finally looked at me, and her eyes were dead inside.
"So do whatever you're going to do. I stopped caring a long time ago."
I should've been offended by being called weak. But I understood that emptiness too well. When Vincent shot me, I'd felt the same—hollowed out, betrayed, done with everything.
"I have an offer," I said.
She laughed harshly. "What could you possibly offer? You're the useless prince everyone mocks. You can't even protect yourself."
"You're right. I can't. Not yet." I met her eyes. "But you can teach me."
"Teach you what?"
"How to fight. How to survive. How to be a general." I kept my voice steady. "You want revenge on Cassian. I need to stay alive. We both want the same thing—to see him destroyed. So let's help each other."
Seraphina stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Even if I trained you for ten years, you couldn't beat Cassian. He's too powerful. Too smart. Too—"
"Everyone has weaknesses." I thought of Vincent, so clever until his own greed killed him. "We just need to find his."
"This is insane."
"Probably." I stood and found a key on the table—the guards had left it there deliberately, like they wanted me to unlock her so they could hear her scream later. "But I'm offering you a choice. Help me, and I'll help you get revenge. Or refuse, and we both die anyway. Cassian wins either way."
I unlocked her chains. They fell to the floor with a heavy clang.
Seraphina rubbed her wrists, staring at her freed hands like she couldn't believe it.
"This is a trick," she whispered. "Another way to break me."
"It's not. I swear on my life—if I betray you, you can kill me yourself."
She stood slowly, her legs shaking from kneeling so long. We were the same height. Her green eyes bored into mine, searching for lies.
"Who are you really?" she asked suddenly. "You don't act like the Mouse Prince. Adrian Valerian was weak, scared, pathetic. You're... different."
My heart skipped. Could she tell? Could she sense Dante's soul inside Adrian's body?
"I'm trying to be different," I said carefully. "To be someone who fights back instead of hiding."
Something flickered in her expression. Not trust. Not yet. But maybe hope.
"One chance," she said. "You get one chance to prove you're not like the others. If you fail—"
"You'll kill me. I know."
"No." Her smile was sharp as broken glass. "I'll make you wish you were dead first."
Before I could respond, footsteps pounded down the hallway.
The doors burst open.
Two servants stumbled in, their faces white with terror.
"Your Highness!" one gasped. "The king! King Wilhelm has collapsed in the throne room! They're saying—" He could barely get the words out. "They're saying he won't survive the night!"
The world tilted.
If the king died tonight, Cassian became king immediately.
And the first thing a new king did was eliminate threats to his throne.
Seraphina grabbed my arm, her grip iron-strong. "If Cassian becomes king tonight, we're both dead by morning."
"I know."
"Then what do we do?"
I thought of everything Dante had taught me about survival. About playing weak until you're strong. About using your enemy's arrogance against them.
"We run," I said. "Get out of the palace before Cassian locks it down. Disappear before—"
Bells began ringing outside. Not normal bells. These were deep and mournful, shaking the stones.
Death bells.
The servants looked at each other in horror.
"It's too late," one whispered. "The king is dead."
Seraphina's face went pale. "Cassian will declare martial law. No one in or out."
As if summoning him by speaking his name, more footsteps thundered closer. Heavy boots. Lots of them.
"Hide!" I hissed at Seraphina.
"Where?"
"Anywhere!"
But it was too late.
The doors slammed open again, and Crown Prince Cassian strode in, flanked by twenty armed guards.
Except now, a golden crown sat on his head.
King Cassian.
His cold blue eyes found me first, then slid to Seraphina with sick delight.
"Well, well," he purred. "My dear little brother. And the fallen Phoenix. Together. How... convenient."
He snapped his fingers.
The guards drew their swords.
"Adrian Valerian," Cassian announced with false sadness, "you are under arrest for treason, conspiracy, and plotting to murder the late king. The evidence is overwhelming."
"What evidence?" I demanded. "I've done nothing!"
"Haven't you?" Cassian pulled out a document with my signature on it—except I'd never signed anything like that. Forged. "This letter to the Mordain Empire, selling our military secrets. Found in your chambers by loyal servants. How disappointing, brother."
My blood ran cold.
He was framing me the same way he'd framed Seraphina.
"And you," Cassian turned to Seraphina, his smile cruel. "A fugitive slave assaulting a prince. That's a death sentence."
"I didn't touch him!" she shouted.
"The guards saw you attack him before we arrived. Such terrible violence." Cassian's eyes gleamed. "You'll both be executed at dawn. Together. Isn't that poetic?"
The guards surrounded us. Twenty swords pointed at our hearts.
Seraphina's hand found mine and squeezed hard.
We'd run out of time before we even started.
Cassian leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper only we could hear.
"I win, little brother. I always win. And you?" He glanced at Seraphina. "You get to watch your last ally die. Just like your family."
He turned to the guards. "Take them to the dungeons. Separate cells. I want them to spend their last hours alone, knowing they failed."
As the guards grabbed us, I looked at Seraphina.
Her green eyes burned with rage and something else—determination.
She mouthed two words: Not yet.
Not yet dead. Not yet beaten. Not yet finished.
The guards dragged us apart, her screaming my name, me fighting uselessly against armored hands.
And as they threw me into a dark cell and slammed the iron door, one thought echoed through my mind:
I'd survived death once already.
I'd be damned if I let Cassian kill me before I got my revenge.