THE DEAL WITH THE DEVIL'S HEIR

Alicia's POV

I opened the door to the last conversation between my mother and father and felt the air go thin. They sat opposite each other like strangers sharing bad news. My father's face was numb, as if the truth didn't belong to him. My mother's shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

"Mum, what are you talking about?" I asked, my voice trembling as I stared between them.

She only wept more. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Say something. Please."

"I'm sorry, my daughter," she managed, each word a ragged rasp.

My heart slammed into my ribs. I went to my father. "What did you do?" I demanded. "What have you done?"

He stood slowly, the chair scraping the floor. "How dare you raise your voice at me," he snapped, but the anger couldn't hide the little smirk that curled at his mouth. "You want to know what we were talking about, hun? I'll tell you."

He lit a cigarette, the flare of the lighter stabbing the dim room. "We sold you off." His voice was calm, almost bored. The words hit me like a fist. For a second the world tilted; my knees almost gave way.

"Mum-" I started, but she could only cry, hands pressed to her face. "How could you do that?" I screamed, slapping his chest as hard as I could.

He took my hands, forced me down until I hit the floor. My mother tried to lift me, but I pushed her away; anger and betrayal burned hotter than pain. "You'd better get your things ready," he said, exhaling smoke. "They'll be here soon."

"Why do we always have to clean up your mess?" I spat. "Why don't we just let them kill him? You're useless.....smoking, gambling away money-" The words tumbled out, raw and reckless.

A hand cracked across my cheek. The sting was immediate and bright. It was my father's. "How dare you talk back to me like that," he said, voice low and controlled. "I am the reason you're still alive. I am your father. You have no right."

My cheeks burned with tears. "I'm sorry, Alicia," my mother whispered, clinging to my clothes, her apology thin as tissue. "I couldn't do anything."

"You knew," I said to her, voice small. "You let him-" My throat closed. "You let him sell me?" I stammered.

"I didn't-" she tried, but the answer dissolved into more sobs. My father took a long drag from his cigarette and smiled like a man who had already counted his coins. "Doesn't matter anymore, Alicia. Your buyer will be here soon. I hope you've packed your things."

I stared at him, fury and cold dread knitting together in my stomach. "Who is he?" I demanded.

My mother only cried louder. Then, sharp and sudden, a knock thudded against the door-three hard, impatient raps. My father's smile widened. It was late, so the hallway was a blur, but the sound of his voice answering the door was unmistakable: polite and practiced.

They were coming for me.

I wasn't going to wait. I had heard stories-girls taken and never seen again-and I refused to be one of them. I bolted to my room, shoved a few things into a bag, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped them. I locked the door behind me, grabbed at the window, and pushed it open. Heart thudding, I clambered onto the sill and dropped into the cool darkness.

I ran. I jumped fences, scraped my palms on rough wood, tore my nightdress on thorns. A black-tinted car appeared like a shadow on the road behind me; headlights like hungry eyes. I didn't look back. I threaded through alleys, ducked into gardens, took every hidden path I knew as if they were lifelines.

When I finally dared to slow, the world spun. My chest heaved, lungs burning. I had been running until my legs felt like nothing but lead. I sank down against a low wall and let my body sag.

A pinprick of cold seared my neck. I slapped at it and pulled out a thin needle. My fingers trembled. Dizzy, the edges of my vision blurred into gray. I tried to stand, but my legs didn't obey. Darkness pooled at the corners of my sight.

A voice stepped out of the night-smooth, amused, and far too familiar. "What made you think you could run away from me, hun?" it said.

I squinted into the shadow. I didn't see his face clearly, but the voice-old, patient, ruthless-sat in my memory like a photograph. He sounded like the men in the stories: feared, remorseless, precise.

"Who are you?" I rasped, fighting to keep panic from swallowing me.

A laugh, low and pleased. "You ran right into me."

A cellphone clicked open in the darkness. "Yes. I've found her. Bring her," the voice said into the line. A pause, then, softer: "Sleep well, princess. We're going to have a long ride home."

He stepped forward. Moonlight cut across his face and for the first time since I was a child, I knew the look in a stranger's eyes. The man who had bought me was not only dangerous. He was someone I had seen in my nightmares.

He smiled and the smile was the kind that promised there would be no escape.

Alicia's POV

I jolted awake, head spinning, every muscle aching as if I'd been dragged through glass. For a moment the room didn't make sense the mattress too soft, the curtains too heavy. Where am I? I asked the empty room.

Then the memory crashed back: the escape, the chase, the face that had caught me. Dante. My chest tightened. Getting away from him felt impossible now; the thought of surviving him felt like a coin with two terrible sides . death or worse.

I pushed myself to my feet and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window. Sunlight etched the silhouette of the city; his wealth, my father had said. Dante wasn't the sort to leave a loose end.

The door clicked open behind me.

He came in wearing a black shirt that accented the breadth of his shoulders. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice casual as if he'd only popped in for coffee.

I folded my arms to hide my trembling. "What do you want from me?" I said, forcing a steadiness I didn't feel.

He chuckled, slow and amused. "Did your parents tell you what your job here is?"

"I don't know whatever agreement you had with my dad, but I'll pay you back. Just let me go-give me time to find the money." My words rushed out. I meant them. I needed them to be real.

He watched me without a flicker of sympathy. Then he laughed - the sound was wrong, a jagged thing that set my teeth on edge. "How much do you think your father owed?" he asked.

"I don't care. I'll pay you back," I said, too proud to beg.

His smirk widened. "There are other ways to pay me back."

He stepped closer until the light caught his face. He was twice my height, an immovable wall. He tipped my chin up with one large hand until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His breath ghosted my mouth.

I shoved him. "What are you doing?"

He smiled like a predator. "What does it seem like, my love?" he murmured.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. The word tasted like bile in my ears. "I am not your-"

"You don't have a choice, darling," he said, voice silk over steel. "You are here to do a job. To carry my child."

I burst out laughing because it felt like the only way to keep from screaming. "I will not carry a monster's child."

The smile on his face turned slow and satisfied. "That's the problem, darling. You don't get to choose." He clamped a hand over my mouth and hauled me in close. Panic clawed up my throat. I bit down hard on his hand. He didn't flinch. If anything, his eyes brightened.

His fingers moved to my neck. I choked and clawed, useless against his strength. He held me while a phone buzzed at his hip; he answered with a single hand, never taking his eyes from me.

"Sir," a voice crackled through his ear. "We found him, but he insists the goods aren't with him."

Dante's eyes flashed like ice. He laughed softly. "Kill him."

A pause. Then the other voice on the line said something low; I couldn't make out every word, but the intention was clear - cruelty measured and deliberate. "Burn them alive. Let him watch. Then kill him."

My stomach dropped. I could hear pleading in the background - a woman's voice cut short by a strangled sob. A metallic sound, a sharp groan - then the report of a single gunshot. The line went still for a heartbeat.

"Done, sir," the voice said. "Now find the rest."

Dante pocketed his phone, his face as calm as a man checking his watch. He loosened his hand from my throat and smoothed his shirt as if straightening a tie. I gasped for air, my lungs burning.

"That will be your fate if you ever disrespect me again," he said, voice cold as frost. Then he walked out of the room as though he'd only gone downstairs for a moment.

I slid down the wall until I was crouched on the floor, the world narrowing to the taste of copper and the pound of my heart. My body shook. I just listened to my ragged breathing, waiting for the next step, the next command.

Then, from far below, something changed. A distant engine hummed. A gate clanged. Voices moved like shadows across the house.

I reached for the phone with hands that barely obeyed. It buzzed on the bedside table a single, sliding vibration. I snatched it up and saw the screen light: a new message from an unknown number.

The text was short.

burns everything.

My fingers went cold. Behind me, on the landing, I heard the slow, heavy thud of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Alicia's POV

I panicked the moment Dante left the room for the second time. My heart thudded against my ribs like a trapped bird. I pressed a palm to my chest, trying to steady it, but my mind kept flashing to what I'd just witnessed an entire family destroyed on his command, lives snuffed out for a debt that wasn't even theirs.

"How can anyone be that heartless?" I whispered, the words trembling out of me. His voice still echoed in my head. That will be your fate if you ever disrespect me again.

I forced a long breath. "No," I murmured. "I won't let this man be the end of me. I'm getting out."

The door clicked softly when I tried it. Not locked. I eased it open, poking my head out. The hallway was empty. A flicker of relief darted through me. Today I will study every corner of this place. Tonight, I'd run.

I slipped into the bathroom, showered quickly, then pulled on a white gown from the wardrobe. My legs felt like water but I made myself walk down the stairs. The mansion was unnervingly quiet. From a window I glimpsed Dante leaving with several men. Only a handful of guards remained, silent as statues. Perfect, I thought. The fewer eyes, the better.

I wandered the house as casually as I could, memorising doors, corridors, stairwells. Every little axis became part of my mental escape map. The guards didn't speak; their faces were carved from stone. Even the staff averted their eyes. It was like living among ghosts.

Back in my room I exhaled shakily. "It doesn't matter. One thing's for sure.... I will escape this place," I told myself. Then I lay on the bed, replaying the map until I could trace it with my eyes closed.

When darkness finally settled over the house, I moved. I pulled a black jumpsuit from the wardrobe someone else's, but it fit. "Thank you," I whispered to the unknown girl and zipped it up.

Following my memorised path, I slipped into the corridor. The coast was clear. No footsteps, no murmurs. It was too easy, but I didn't care. Keep moving, I told myself. Just keep moving.

I reached the last window before the outer grounds. My pulse roared in my ears. Almost free. I swung a leg over the ceiling and a hand shot from the shadows, clamping around my ankle.

"Please... help me..." a hoarse voice whispered.

I froze, biting back a scream. My plan could shatter in an instant. I twisted free, heart hammering, and dropped to the ground outside. My landing jarred my knees but I didn't stop.

I vaulted the first fence and grinned through the ache in my ribs. I'm doing it. I'm actually....

Then I saw it.

A severed head hung from the branches ahead, blood dripping in slow, deliberate beads. The metallic smell hit my nose and turned my stomach. The ground around it was dark, slick.

Fear gripped me but I forced my feet to move. There had to be a way out beyond the trees. I pushed forward, deeper into the shadows and that was when I heard it.

A soft click.

A glint of steel.

And then a familiar voice behind me, low and cold:

"Going somewhere, little dove?".