Bound by Love Fueled by Revenge

Chapter 1 The Price of Blood ​The grease on the diner counter seemed to be the only permanent thing in Esperanza Malva’s life. No matter how hard she scraped with the spatula or how much disinfectant she used, the scent of cheap food and desperation remained embedded in the wood, in the air, and, she felt, in her very pores. ​At twenty-three, her small Virginia town felt more like a low-ceilinged tomb than a home. ​The bell above the door chimed with a tired, metallic ring. Esperanza didn’t even look up from the stain she was trying to scrub away. ​"We’re closing in five minutes, Miller. Unless you want a cold burger and coffee that tastes like mud, you’re out of luck today," she said, her voice dry and monotonous. ​"I’m not Miller, Esperanza." ​Esperanza froze. That voice. It was deep, raspy from tobacco, and always heavy with bad news. She looked up to find her father, Garrison Malva, standing by the entrance. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands trembled slightly—the classic signs of a man who had spent the last forty-eight hours at the underground poker tables of the local scrapyard. ​"Dad? What are you doing here? I told you I wasn’t giving you a single cent more of my tips. I need that money for next week’s rent," she said, hardening her jaw. ​Garrison stepped closer but avoided her gaze. He stared at the cracked linoleum floor as if searching for the right words there. ​"The rent doesn’t matter anymore, honey. We have... we have a much bigger problem than the rent." ​A cold void settled in Esperanza’s stomach. She dropped the dirty rag onto the counter. ​"What did you do now? How much did you lose, Dad?" ​"I got in too deep with Richard. Far deeper than I can handle. Six figures, Esperanza." Garrison finally looked at her, a pathetic, desperate glint in his eyes. "He was going to take the house. I was going to end up in a ditch in the woods; he swore on his life that’s the truth." ​Esperanza felt a wave of nausea. Miller Richard wasn’t just a moneylender; he owned half the mountain—a man who didn’t just break bones, but erased entire families. ​"And what do you expect me to do? Go beg him? I don’t have that kind of money! Nobody in this town does!" she shouted, feeling the walls of the diner closing in on her. ​"He doesn't want the money anymore," Garrison whispered, taking a step toward her, reaching out a hand she immediately rejected. "He said the debt would be settled... if you agree to marry him. If you move onto his estate. If you belong to him." ​The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Esperanza’s breathing became erratic. ​"You sold me." It wasn’t a question. It was a brutal realization that shattered the last shred of respect and affection she felt for her father. "You used me to pay off your gambling debts." ​"It’s a good deal, Esperanza! He’s a powerful man. You’d never have to scrub floors again. You’d be cared for, you’d have food, beautiful clothes..." ​"I’m a person, not a poker chip!" she screamed at him, her voice cracking with rage. "I’d rather die on the street than be a trophy for a psychopath like Richard!" ​"You don't have a choice, Esperanza. He sent his men to the house. They’ll be there tonight for you to sign the papers. If you’re not there... they’ll come for me, and then they’ll come for you anyway. There is no way out." ​Esperanza didn't wait to hear any more excuses. She grabbed her keys and jacket from under the counter and bolted toward the back door. ​"Esperanza, wait! Don't be stupid!" her father yelled after her, but she was already outside, hit by the first lash of a storm beginning to roar over the mountains. ​She climbed into her old 2005 Chevy, the engine groaning as she slammed it into reverse. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped animal. She had no plan, no suitcases—only forty dollars in her pocket and a rage that burned her throat. She only knew she had to cross the county line before dawn. ​The mountain road was a blur of gray and black under the torrential rain. Tears clouded her vision, turning her dashboard lights into ghostly smears. The storm was worsening; the wind shook her small car as it climbed the winding pass. ​"I’m not staying there," she hissed through gritted teeth, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "I’m never going back to that damn hole." ​Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the road. For a fraction of a second, she saw a silhouette: a dark, heavy mass stumbling out of the forest, right into her path. ​Esperanza slammed on the brakes. The tires shrieked against the wet asphalt. The car fishtailed, the rear sliding dangerously toward the embankment. She fought the wheel, panic flooding her senses. ​THUMP. ​The sound of metal hitting flesh and bone was dull, heavy, and gut-wrenching. ​The car came to a dead stop. The engine cut out, leaving a deathly silence broken only by the rhythmic click-clack of the hazard lights and the lashing of rain on the roof. ​Esperanza sat motionless, gasping for air. Her hands shook so violently she could barely unbuckle her seatbelt. She had hit someone. In the middle of a storm, on a road where no one walked at this hour. ​She pushed the door open, and the cold instantly bit through her waitress uniform. ​"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling with terror. "Is anyone there?" ​She walked toward the front of the car. The headlights sliced through the curtain of water, and there, lying in the mud, was a man. ​He was massive—larger than any man she had ever seen in Virginia. He wore black clothes that were torn and soaked with something more than just water: blood. ​As she knelt beside him, she caught her breath. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, and his hand was still pressing against a jagged wound in his side... a wound that didn't look like it was caused by the accident, but by a bullet. ​"Oh, my God..." she whispered, searching for a pulse in his neck. ​His skin was freezing, but his heart was beating. Slow. Heavy. Like a war drum that refused to stop sounding. ​As she moved to pull out her phone to call emergency services, a massive, blood-stained hand shot up from the mud and clamped around her wrist with the strength of a hydraulic press. ​Esperanza let out a muffled scream, looking down. She met a pair of eyes that were a lethal, icy gray—eyes that looked like they had seen the end of the world and survived to tell the tale. ​"No... police," the man wheezed, his voice little more than a death rattle. "If they find me... we’re both dead." ​Esperanza looked back toward the road that led to the town where Richard and her father waited to cage her, and then she looked at the dying stranger who offered a different kind of danger—but perhaps, a chance to run. ​In seconds, she made her choice. She would help the monster to escape the demons.