Chapter 4 A deal with the devil

Luna's Pov

The morning light seeped into the kitchen, yet it did little to alleviate the tension tightening in my chest. My father faced me, his shoulders bent as if he were bracing for a hit. His gaze flickered in my direction, yet he swiftly averted his eyes, remorse marked in every feature of his expression.

"Luna," he began gently, his voice breaking. "Let me explain."

"Explain what, Dad?" I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. My voice shook, but I didn't care. "That you gave me away to a stranger? That you sacrificed me to deal with your debts?"

His expression twisted, and for a fleeting moment, I recognized the man who once tucked me in at night and scared away the monsters beneath my bed. Yet now, he had become the monster.

"That's not the case," he replied, a sense of desperation entering his voice. "I never wanted this. I found myself cornered. These individuals I owe won't simply allow me to leave."

"So you concluded that I'm the cost they'll agree to?" My voice escalated, frustration finally piercing the haze. "You didn't even ask me!"

"I'm trying to save you!" he yelled unexpectedly, his voice breaking with the intensity of his feelings. "Do you believe I want this for you? For either one of us?" He swept a hand through his hair, moving about like a trapped creature. "They made threats against me, Luna. If I don't resolve this, they'll turn their attention to you next."

I blinked, taken aback by the sheer terror in his tone. My father was not easily frightened, yet now he appeared to be a shell of his former self.

"Who is he?" I asked, my voice quiet but firm. "The one you made this deal with?"

Dad hesitated, his jaw tightening. "His name is Dante Neverro. He's a billionaire investor. He... has connections. He offered to clear my debts...on one condition."

"And that condition is me," I said bitterly.

He nodded, his eyes glistening. "He will arrive tomorrow."

The words struck me like a sledgehammer. The day after today. Less than twenty-four hours remained before a stranger took control of my life. My stomach twisted, with bile creeping up my throat.

"No," I murmured, shaking my head. "This cannot be real."

"I'm truly sorry, Luna," Dad replied, his voice trembling. "If there were any alternative-"

However, I did not stay to listen to the rest as I turned around and rushed out the door, his voice chasing after me.

I kept running until I arrived at the park, my beloved place hidden among tall oaks and the soft sound of the nearby ocean. My chest heaved as I settled onto the bench, tears streaming freely down my face.

My existence was not intended to unfold like this. I ought to have been getting ready for my future instead of being moved around like a pawn in a game I didn't even know I was part of.

The sun dipped lower as I stood there, stunned and confused. I became aware of the footsteps only when a familiar voice broke the quiet.

"Luna?"

I froze, hastily wiping my face before looking up. Adrian stood a few feet away, his brows knitted in concern.

"Oh," I said, forcing a smile that felt hollow. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I was walking home and saw you," he said, taking a cautious step closer. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just... needed some air."

"Luna," he said gently, his eyes locking onto mine. "You've been crying."

I looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."

He didn't move, his silence pressing against me until I finally sighed. "It's just... family stuff. Complicated."

"Complicated enough to make you run out here alone?" he asked, sitting down beside me. "You know you can tell me, right?"

I stopped, sensing a tightness in my throat. The truth was laid out before me, pleading for recognition, yet I couldn't find the bravery to articulate it.

Rather, I shook my head negatively. "I prefer not to discuss it."

"Alright," Adrian spoke gently. "Now let's discuss a different topic."

His voice was calming, his demeanor reliable, and for a time, we discussed more cheerful topics: the silly squirrel that persistently invaded his garbage and the occasion he unintentionally splashed coffee on a professor.

For the first time that day, I chuckled, the sound rising even with the storm within me.

"There's that grin," he remarked, beaming. "I began to believe I would never see it again."

"Thank you, Adrian," I said softly, my voice just a whisper.

He looked at me, his face contemplative. "You're not planning to return home tonight, are you?"

The question surprised me, and I became tense. "What led you to say that?"

"It's merely a feeling," he replied, dismissively. "You can stay with me if you wish. We'll take it easy."

I paused, the proposal was alluring but risky. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You are not," he stated resolutely. "Let's go. Let's get you out of here from the cold."

Adrian's apartment was welcoming, featuring gentle lighting and a faint scent of cinnamon and coffee. I awkwardly remained by the doorway as he walked toward the kitchen.

"Hungry?" he asked, pulling out ingredients.

"I guess," I said, watching him curiously.

He grinned. "Good. My pasta's famous. Well, infamous. You'll see."

I couldn't resist smiling as he diced and mixed, his actions easygoing and assured. As he placed the dish in front of me, the enticing scent caused my stomach to rumble.

"This is incredible," I exclaimed after the first taste.

"I know," he remarked with a smile, causing me to chuckle again.

After dinner, we got comfortable on the couch as a romantic comedy played softly in the background. I nestled into the cushions, sensing my tension diminish slightly.

"Adrian," I said suddenly, my voice breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to me.

I hesitated, the words heavy on my tongue. "Thank you. For everything."

"Anytime," he said softly.

But as the night wore on, my unease crept back in. Tomorrow was looming, and with it, Dante Nevarro.

Later that night, after Adrian had drifted off, I stayed by the window, looking out at the dark scenery. My phone buzzed on the counter, and I halted briefly before picking it up.

A notification from an unfamiliar number illuminated the display: "See you tomorrow, Luna–Dante Nevarro."

My blood ran cold.