A BOND WITH LUCIFER

PROLOGUE 5th of August, 1999 The rain poured relentlessly, hammering against the hospital windows as thunder cracked through the night sky. Inside the delivery room, chaos unfolded. A baby girl had just been born… but there was no cry. “Please, doctor—what’s going on?” the woman on the bed cried, her voice trembling with fear. “Why isn’t she crying? Please—make her cry!” The doctors worked quickly, exchanging uneasy glances as they tried everything. Seconds stretched into a suffocating silence. Then one of them stopped. The shift in his expression said everything. “Doctor…?” the woman whispered, panic rising. “Tell me what’s happening.” He hesitated before speaking, his voice heavy. “Mrs. Lockhart… I’m sorry. Your baby… she’s stillborn.” “No.” Her head shook violently. “No, that’s not possible. Check again—please! You have to check again!” Tears streamed down her face as her cries filled the room. And then— Everything stopped. The rain froze mid-fall. The doctors became motionless. Even time itself seemed to hold its breath. Only two people could move. The mother… and him. He appeared out of nowhere, as though he had always been there—yet never existed. His presence was overwhelming. He was… beautiful. Terrifyingly so. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jawline dusted in stubble. Dark, slightly messy curls fell over his forehead, giving him a wild edge. His eyes—those eyes—shifted between an icy blue and a deep, burning red. Power radiated from him. Danger… and something far worse. The woman stared, fear and desperation clashing within her. “Please…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Save her.” He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Do you even know who I am,” he asked calmly, “or what you’re asking for?” “I don’t care,” she cried. “Please… just save my baby.” For seven years, she and her husband had waited for this child. Seven years of hope, prayers, and heartbreak. She couldn’t lose her now. A faint smile touched his lips. “You little demoness…” He stepped forward and gently lifted the lifeless child into his arms. For a brief moment, silence reigned. Then— The baby smiled. A second later, a loud cry pierced the room. Alive. His expression immediately returned to its usual cold, unreadable state, as though the smile had never existed. He handed the baby back to her. Tears of relief flooded her eyes as she clutched her child tightly. “Thank you… thank you so much,” Clara Lockhart whispered. “There’s no need to thank me,” he replied. “Just remember… you owe me.” He paused before adding, “Name her Luciana.” And just like that— He vanished. Time resumed. The rain continued. The doctors gasped in shock as the once lifeless baby cried loudly in her mother’s arms. “Ma’am, give her to us—we need to examine her!” one of them said urgently. Clara nodded, still overwhelmed, and let them take the child. Hours later, she was moved to a private VIP room. Her husband rushed in anxiously. “Is everything okay? Are you both alright?” Zivon Lockhart asked, his voice filled with worry. “The mother and baby are perfectly fine,” the nurse reassured him, placing the baby in his arms. “Though… I must say, she’s quite special. After everything that happened—and this mark…” “What mark?” he asked. The nurse gently revealed the baby’s chest. There, faint but unmistakable— Was the number 23. Zivon frowned slightly, exchanging a glance with his wife. “What will you name her?” the nurse asked. Clara smiled softly, her eyes fixed on her daughter. “Luciana.”