Owned by the devil I Didn't choose

Something wet splashed across my face. I gasped and opened my eyes. My head pounded, my memory slipping through my fingers. Light burned my vision, forcing me to blink several times. When my vision adjusted, I realized I was sitting upright in some dark, musty place that reeked of blood and damp stone. I couldn’t move. Chains. They were wrapped around my arms and legs, cold and tight. My limbs felt like dead weight- unresponsive. I tried moving but each movement sent a jolt of pain up my arms and legs. Someone laughed. I lifted my head slowly and saw a woman standing in front of me—She was built like a wall—thick muscles, broad shoulders, knuckles bruised and split as if she used them often. “Well,” she said, smiling slowly. “The princess decided to wake up.” I tried to search my memory, but nothing came clearly to mind. What had I missed? Where had my plan gone wrong? Three days earlier, “I’m putting this operation in your hands, Agent Lucy.” The director’s voice was serious. He stood straight in front of my desk, my hands behind my back. “It will reflect well on your record,” he added, after a pause. I didn’t react, even though the words hit harder than I expected. “I won’t let you down, sir.” I said. As he walked past me, he placed a hand on my shoulder for a brief moment before going into his office. I let out a slow breath. Back at my desk, I spread out the files again. Maps. Photos. Reports. This wasn’t my first mission, but something about this one felt wrong. I wasn’t the first agent sent after them. The others were dead. Each of them bearing the same mark burned into their skin—a serpent twisted in black ink. A signature. A warning. I pushed the thought away and focused on the plan. “Lucy.” I looked up. David was standing beside me. “It’s time for the final briefing,” he said. “Tomorrow’s operation.” I nodded and followed him. Everyone was already seated when I arrived. I stood at the front of the room and took a deep breath. On the board, I had drawn a full plan—lines, arrows, notes—and at the center loomed a dark figure with no face. A shadow pinned in ink, unknowable, dangerous. “Our target is Leonardo Blackwood,” I said pointing at the center. “He’s known as the Serpent.” The room went quiet. “Tomorrow, we've been told that he’ll be at Moretti Casino for a deal signing. That’s where we move in.” I explained the plan carefully—how we’d enter, where we’d position ourselves, how we’d get out. A few people asked questions, but no one argued. Still, I could see the fear in their eyes.When the briefing ended, everyone left quickly. Later that night, I went out with a few colleagues for a drink in case it was our last. The club was loud and crowded. Music filled the room, too loud and my head started to ache almost immediately. I slid onto a barstool and ordered. “One dirty martini. Extra dirty.” The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. I sipped carefully, letting the strong, savory taste settle in. My eyes scanned the room, people dancing like nothing in the world mattered. I tracked the exits, the cameras, every movement without thinking. Habit did the rest. Minutes passed. I paid my bill and rose from the stool, my hands still tingling from the drink’s chill. Something in the corner of my eye caught a flicker of movement. I blinked—and then the crack of a gunshot split the room. People screamed, ran in all directions. “Everyone calm down!” I shouted, showing my badge. “David check the exits!” I went to see what happened. I pushed through the crowd toward the sound. A group of people stood around something on the floor. “What happened?” I asked. “He was killed by the Serpent’s men,” someone standing beside me said. My stomach tightened. “How do you know?” “I knew him, everyone in this neighborhood did.” the man replied. “He gambled a lot. He went into one of the Serpent’s casinos, and now he’s dead.” I moved closer to the body. The smell of alcohol and iron hit me first. His face was pale, his eyes wide and unseeing. One leg was twisted wrong, bent in a way no living body should be. Dark bruises extended across his arms, and the hand close to me bore a black serpent tattoo slithering around his wrist. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to kneel, careful not to let my fingers brush the cold, sticky blood-stained floor. I didn’t need to see the rest to know who had done this. “Call 9-1-1,” I said. The police arrived soon after. I gave them what I knew and went home. The city lights passed by quietly as I stared out the window. I thought about tomorrow—how this operation could put lives at risk, including mine. A knot twisted in my stomach, but we had no choice. After all, our lives had never truly belonged to us. At home, the apartment was quiet. It smelled faintly of cozy, reassuring warmth. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it for a second before moving. My body felt worn out as I walked down the hall to my sister’s room. The door was slightly open. I pushed it wider and stepped inside. She was asleep, curled on her side, one arm tucked under her pillow like she’d done since she was a child. A strand of brown hair had fallen across her face. I reached out and brushed it away gently, careful not to wake her. She murmured something in her sleep and shifted. My chest tightened. I kissed her forehead softly and stayed there longer than I meant to, memorizing her breathing, the way her chest rose and fell. I told myself it was just exhaustion making me sentimental. I wanted to believe tomorrow would go as planned. I didn’t know it yet, but tomorrow was already waiting for me.