The three women didn't speak much on the way back.
Irina drove—borrowed Kuznetsov's black Mercedes from the club lot, keys still warm in his pocket when she'd taken them. Seraphina rode shotgun, knife resting on her thigh, eyes scanning every shadow the streetlights touched. Lilith sat in the back, torn emerald dress clinging to sweat-damp skin, silver veins pulsing brighter with every heartbeat. The new soul—Kuznetsov's thick, oily essence—mixed with the demon's jagged burn like bad liquor settling in the stomach.
No one followed them. Not visibly.
But the air felt watched.
They reached the flat just before 3 a.m. Irina parked two streets over—habit of someone who'd spent months running. They walked the rest in silence, boots splashing through shallow puddles, breath fogging in the cold.
Inside, Lilith locked the door. Seraphina drew the heavy blackout curtains. Irina stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, still holding Kuznetsov's gun like she didn't trust the quiet.
"Talk," Irina said finally. Accent thicker with exhaustion. "You said sisterhood. You said fight. What does that actually mean?"
Lilith peeled off the ruined dress—fabric ripping further—leaving her in black lace lingerie and garters. She didn't bother covering up; modesty felt pointless now. She crossed to the small table, poured three glasses of cheap vodka from the bottle they kept for nights like this.
"It means we're not alone anymore," she said, handing glasses to Seraphina and Irina. "It means we take from the corrupt, grow stronger, and use that strength to cut the head off whatever this Sovereign is."
Irina took the glass but didn't drink. "And the demons? They'll keep coming."
"They will," Seraphina said, downing hers in one. "But we're faster now. Stronger. And we're three."
Irina looked between them. "Three is better than one. But three is still small."
Lilith met her eyes. "Then we make it bigger. But first… we need to stabilize what we just took."
Seraphina raised a brow. "The ritual."
Irina frowned. "What ritual?"
Lilith set her glass down untouched. "When we share a soul—when three of us pull at once—the power doesn't just add. It multiplies. But it's raw. Unstable. Like pouring gasoline on a fire that's already burning too hot. If we don't… bind it, it can tear us apart from the inside."
Irina's fingers tightened on the gun. "Bind it how?"
Seraphina answered before Lilith could. "Sex. Shared. Intentional. No holding back. We channel the energy through our bodies—through pleasure—until it settles. Until the silver veins stop burning and start singing."
Irina laughed once—sharp, disbelieving. "You're joking."
Lilith stepped closer. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Irina studied her—then Seraphina. Saw the faint glow under their skin, the way their eyes caught light like polished obsidian.
She exhaled. Set the gun on the table.
"Fine. Show me."
They moved to the bed.
No rush. No performance.
Lilith lit the single lamp—dim, warm. Seraphina pulled the sheets back. Irina hesitated only a moment before shedding her clothes—silver dress pooling at her feet, revealing lean muscle, faint scars across her ribs, and the same delicate silver lines starting to spread from her sternum.
They knelt in a loose triangle on the mattress.
Hands first—fingers interlacing, palms pressing. Skin to skin. The contact sparked—literal sparks, tiny blue-white arcs dancing between them.
Lilith spoke low. "Feel it. The power we took. Kuznetsov's corruption. The demon's rage. It's inside all of us now. Let it flow."
She leaned in, kissed Irina—slow, testing. Irina stiffened, then melted into it, lips parting. Seraphina watched for a heartbeat, then joined—kissing Lilith's neck, then Irina's shoulder.
Hands roamed.
Lilith traced the scars on Irina's ribs—gentle, reverent. Irina's fingers dug into Lilith's hips. Seraphina slid behind Irina, breasts pressing to her back, hands cupping her breasts, thumbs circling nipples until Irina gasped.
The energy moved—visible now. Silver threads weaving between their bodies like living wire, pulsing in time with their breaths.
Irina broke the kiss, voice hoarse. "It burns."
"Good," Seraphina whispered against her ear. "Let it burn clean."
They shifted—Irina on her back, Lilith straddling her face, Seraphina between Irina's thighs. No words now. Just rhythm. Just need.
Lilith rocked slowly—Irina's tongue finding her clit, circling, pressing. Seraphina's mouth on Irina—long licks, then fingers sliding inside, curling. Irina moaned into Lilith—vibrations sending shocks through her.
The threads tightened—coiling, glowing brighter.
Pleasure built—not just physical. Something deeper. The raw power from Kuznetsov and the demon churned, fighting to break free.
Seraphina lifted her head. "Now. Together."
They moved faster.
Lilith ground down—riding Irina's mouth. Irina bucked against Seraphina's fingers and tongue. Seraphina's free hand reached up, pinching Lilith's nipple—hard.
Climax hit them in chain reaction.
Irina first—back arching, cry muffled against Lilith. Silver threads flared white-hot.
Then Seraphina—shuddering, fingers buried deep.
Lilith last—head thrown back, vision whiting out as the energy finally settled.
The threads sank into their skin—not burning anymore. Singing. Harmonious.
They collapsed together—limbs tangled, breaths ragged, skin slick.
For long minutes, no one spoke.
Irina broke the silence. Voice soft. "I felt them. Kuznetsov. The demon. They're… quieter now."
Lilith pressed a kiss to her temple. "They're part of us. Fuel. Not chains."
Seraphina rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. "We're synced. I can feel you both—like echoes in my head. Not thoughts. Just… knowing."
Irina touched the silver lines on her own chest. They'd spread further—elegant, almost artistic. "What now?"
Lilith sat up slowly. "Now we rest. Tomorrow we hunt again. Bigger. We need more sisters. More power. And we need to find out what the Sovereign actually is."
Seraphina nodded. "The visions. Throne of bones. Crowned figure. That's not a demon. That's something older."
Irina's eyes darkened. "I've seen it too. In nightmares. After my first harvest. It doesn't speak. It just… watches."
Lilith looked out the window. London sprawled below—neon veins pulsing through fog.
"Then we make it blink," she said.
They slept in a pile—bodies pressed close, silver lines faintly glowing in the dark like shared constellations.
Dawn came gray and heavy.
When they woke, the flat felt different. Safer. Stronger.
Irina made coffee—strong, black, Russian-style. Seraphina cleaned weapons. Lilith stood at the window, tracing patterns on the glass with a fingertip.
The voice in her head—the ancient whisper—was quiet today.
But she knew it wasn't gone.
Just waiting.
Seraphina joined her. "We need a name. For us. For what we are."
Lilith smiled—slow, dangerous. "We already have one."
She turned.
"The Soul Collectors."
Irina raised her mug in salute. "To collecting."
Seraphina clinked hers against it. "And to the Sovereign's reckoning."
Outside, the city woke—oblivious, corrupt, full of marks.
Inside, three women sharpened their edges.
The hunt was just beginning.