Chapter 2 The Deal is Sealed

The door slammed behind her like a prison gate.

Sera hit the ground hard, her knees scraping against the rough concrete as the guards tossed her into the room without a word. Dust clouded around her. The stench of rust, mildew, and oil filled her lungs. Somewhere, water dripped-slow, mocking.

Her wrists ached. Her arms were sore from the struggle. The ache in her shoulder pulsed from when she'd been slammed against the alley wall. But none of that compared to the sharp, splintering betrayal sitting across the room.

Jaxon.

Curled in the corner like a kicked dog. Arms wrapped around his knees. Shoulders hunched. Eyes red-either from crying or whatever crap he'd snorted earlier that day. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. Maybe he was praying. Maybe he was just too far gone to speak.

Sera pushed herself up on shaking hands. She spat blood onto the dusty floor.

The metallic taste didn't bother her nearly as much as the rage boiling in her chest.

She stared at him-this man she used to trust. Her brother. The last of her family.

> "You sold me," she said.

Not a question. A fact.

Her voice was hoarse, quiet. But it cracked like a whip.

Jaxon flinched. His fingers tightened around his knees.

Still, he said nothing.

The silence made her fury worse.

Sera staggered to her feet, every inch of her trembling-not from fear, but fury. Her vision swam, not from the impact of fists or the guards' rough handling, but from how deep the betrayal cut.

"You sold me," she repeated louder, each word knifing through the air. "Like I was a damn pair of dice. Like I was nothing."

Still no answer.

She took a shaky step forward. "Say something. Say anything, Jax."

His eyes lifted-dull, wet, empty.

"I had no choice," he croaked.

Sera's laugh was sharp. Bitter. "There's always a choice. And you chose me."

He looked away.

Coward.

"Do you know what they're going to do to me?" she asked. "Do you even care?"

"I thought..." he whispered, barely audible. "I thought he'd let you go. After."

Sera froze.

"After what?" she asked, voice low. Dangerous.

Jaxon didn't answer.

And suddenly, Sera understood.

He hadn't expected her to live through it.

Not really.

This wasn't just a betrayal-it was a sacrifice.

Her fists clenched.

She took a deep breath-because if she didn't, she'd kill him right there in that godforsaken storage room.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

> "You didn't save your life, Jax. You just bought yourself a little more time in hell."

Outside the door, heavy footsteps echoed. Slow. Deliberate.

Sera's breath caught.

Because she already knew who it was.

The devil had come to collect.

The rusted metal door creaked open like it was groaning in warning.

Heavy footsteps followed.

Not rushed.

Not careless.

Each one deliberate-like the man walking in had all the time in the world because time obeyed him.

Dante Moretti stepped into the dim storage room like he owned it. Like he owned everything.

The light overhead flickered once, casting shadows across the sharp planes of his face. His black gloves were gone, tucked into his back pocket. Silver rings wrapped around his fingers-deadly and regal. He buttoned the front of his tailored suit with smooth precision, as if he were about to sit down for dinner instead of finalizing a deal signed in blood and betrayal.

He didn't look around the room.

Didn't acknowledge the guards standing at attention.

Didn't even glance at Jaxon-who looked like he was about to pass out.

His eyes found her.

Locked.

Laser-sharp.

Unblinking.

Sera didn't drop her gaze.

She refused.

She could feel the pressure behind his stare-like he could reach into her skull and peel her thoughts apart one by one. But she stood her ground, breathing slow through her nose, even as the adrenaline still surged in her limbs.

> "Stand her up," Dante said, voice low and clean as steel.

Two guards moved instantly.

Sera barely had time to brace before they yanked her upright. One grabbed her elbow, the other her waist-restraining her like they expected her to throw a punch. (She probably would've, if they hadn't taken her damn boots.)

She didn't flinch.

Didn't whimper.

And when she stood face-to-face with the infamous Dante Moretti, she tilted her chin higher.

> Let him look.

Dante took a slow step forward, his gaze trailing down and back up again. Not lecherous. Not cruel.

Assessing.

Like she was a blade he was deciding whether to sharpen or shatter.

"Hmm," he murmured, stopping just inches from her. "You're... not what I expected."

Sera's lip curled. "Good. Because I sure as hell didn't expect to be sold like cattle to a walking crime documentary."

That earned her a soft chuckle.

Not loud. Not warm. Just enough to remind her who was in control here.

> "This isn't a sale, sweetheart," Dante said, his voice wrapped in velvet and venom. "It's a substitution."

He turned, finally giving Jaxon a glance.

"You owed me your life," he said calmly. "But instead of dying, you gave me hers."

Jaxon opened his mouth.

Closed it.

He had nothing to say. Nothing left to defend.

Sera's jaw clenched.

She stepped forward, yanking her arm out of the guard's grasp.

"You think I'm just going to let you drag me into your mansion and play house because my disgrace of a brother scribbled my name on a piece of paper?" she snapped.

Dante's smile was slow. Amused. And terrifying.

He stepped closer.

No threat in his posture.

No tension in his body.

Just power.

Pure, effortless, unshakable power.

> "Oh, Seraphina," he said softly, eyes gleaming. "I don't think you'll walk into it."

> "I know you'll be carried."

Dante reached into his inner coat pocket with the precision of a man retrieving a bullet-smooth, slow, and sure.

He pulled out a sheet of parchment.

Thick. Cream-colored. Expensive.

It didn't belong in a grimy backroom surrounded by peeling paint and rusted pipes.

It looked out of place. Sacred. Sinister.

He held it up briefly between two fingers, then let it unroll over the small metal table between them.

> Clean.

Stark.

Binding.

At the top of the page, in ornate calligraphy, was a single word:

CONTRACT.

Below it, a line waiting for her signature.

"This is the real contract," Dante said, his voice like silk drawn over a blade. "Signed in the presence of my witnesses. Agreed to under pressure? Sure. But legal enough in my world."

The edge of his mouth curved, but there was no humor in it.

A man behind him stepped forward, opening a polished black box.

Inside was a delicate quill-and a glass vial of deep red liquid.

Blood.

Sera's stomach turned.

Not ink.

Blood.

"Seriously?" she spat. "Are you a mafia boss or a damn vampire?"

Dante didn't blink. "Both, depending on the day."

The guard dipped the quill with reverent care, then handed it to Dante, who accepted it with the same grace one might use for a crown. He extended it toward her.

> "Your turn."

Sera stared at the parchment. Then at the quill. Then at him.

Her legs wanted to bolt. Her mind screamed don't. But her brother sat behind her, head bowed, and the ghost of his death already clung to the air like smoke.

"You sign this," Dante said, still calm, "or your brother's body washes up in the harbor tomorrow morning."

His words were delivered without malice. As if he were describing the weather.

Sera's lips parted, but no words came.

Her hands trembled.

"I..."

She looked back at Jaxon, who still hadn't moved.

Coward.

Traitor.

Blood.

She turned back.

> "So that's it?" she asked bitterly. "A drop of blood, a name, and I'm yours?"

Dante cocked his head.

> "No choice," he said gently. "Just consequences."

The way he said it chilled her more than if he'd screamed.

Sera looked at the parchment again.

So neat. So final.

Her chest rose and fell in sharp rhythm.

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

> "And if I sign..." her voice cracked. "What happens to me?"

Dante stepped closer.

So close, she could feel the heat radiating off him.

He looked down at her-not cruel, not cold, but completely, utterly sure.

> "Then," he said, with the faintest ghost of a smile,

"You become mine."

Sera never touched the quill.

Her hands stayed clenched at her sides, fists so tight her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. Her jaw locked. Her spine straight. Her glare nailed to Dante's unreadable face.

She didn't cry.

Didn't beg.

Didn't sign.

And yet-

> Dante didn't seem to care.

He didn't look disappointed.

He didn't look angry.

He looked bored.

> "She's coming either way," he told the guards flatly, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket like he had a dinner to attend and no time for theatrics.

The two men moved instantly.

Rough hands clamped down on her arms. One of them grabbed her by the waist again. She thrashed like a wildfire-biting, spitting, slamming her head backward into someone's chest. Someone cursed. Someone else yanked a chain around her ankles.

She didn't stop.

She couldn't.

> "Get your hands off me!" she shouted, voice hoarse.

They didn't.

They dragged her out of the storage room and into the night, her heels scraping the pavement, her body twisted like a trapped animal. The alley's stench rushed back into her nose-sweat, smoke, gasoline-but this time, it was the scent of defeat.

The sleek black SUV sat waiting, its engine purring like a predator.

They shoved her in.

Cold leather. Tinted windows. Silence.

The door slammed shut.

A second later, another door opened on the other side-and Dante slid in like he belonged to the night.

He didn't speak.

Didn't look at her.

He just sat beside her-calm, elegant, perfectly collected.

As if he hadn't just ordered her stolen from her life and shackled to his.

Sera glared at him, chest heaving. But he didn't flinch. Didn't blink. His reflection in the dark window was regal, detached-like a king beside his reluctant queen.

Outside, the car rolled forward.

Through the slums. Past the neon bars and broken homes.

Sera twisted in her seat for one last glance behind them-and through the dirty back window, she saw Jaxon.

Still in that same position.

Curled on the floor like a broken doll.

> Her brother.

Her betrayer.

Gone.

The road curved.

Uphill now.

The city lights dimmed behind them, replaced by looming trees and cold iron gates.

The car slowed as the gates yawned open-black, ornate, and unforgiving.

Beyond them, the Moretti estate waited like a beast with marble teeth and velvet shadows.

Sera's heart pounded in her chest. The chains around her ankles clinked with every bump in the road.

Dante finally looked at her.

Not cruel.

Not gentle.

Just... certain.

As if her fate had already been carved into stone the moment her name was signed in blood.

> Seraphina Vale wasn't going home.

> She was being delivered to the devil's door.