Sold to the Devil's Son

Anna “You forgot your phone, Anna.” The voice of my manager stopped me just as I pushed open the glass door of the cake shop. “Oh! Thank you,” I said, forcing a tired smile as I walked back inside to collect it. My legs ached and my head throbbed. Today had been exhausting—two full shifts back-to-back, morning and afternoon. I wouldn’t normally do that, but Serena, my best friend and coworker, had begged me to cover for her. She had a date with her boyfriend and had promised it would be quick. Being the supportive friend that I was, I agreed. Unfortunately, Saturdays never showed mercy. The shop had been packed from morning till evening. Orders kept coming, customers kept complaining, and my smile had stayed glued to my face long after my energy had run out. By the time I finally clocked out, I felt like collapsing right there on the counter. My name is Anna Salvatore. I’m a college student, and on weekends, I work at a cake shop to help support myself and my mother, Nadia Salvatore. It has been just the two of us for as long as I can remember—twenty years of shared struggles, quiet dinners, and unspoken fears. We don’t have any other family. At least, not that I know of. Whenever I asked about my father, my mother always gave me the same answer, her voice tight, her eyes distant. “I ran away from him to protect you. Your father doesn’t care.” That was all she ever said. Sometimes I wondered what kind of man he was—what could have been so dangerous that my mother had to run away with nothing but me in her arms. I wondered why he never looked for us. For me. But since my mother clearly hated the topic, I stopped asking. Her happiness mattered more than my curiosity. She was my only family… except for Serena, who had grown up beside me like a sister. Outside, the night air was cool and unsettlingly quiet. I walked faster, clutching the small cake box in my hand. A cheerful customer had bought it for me earlier as a thank-you. Mint chocolate—my favorite. Normally, I would have been excited, but all I wanted now was to get home. My phone buzzed in my hand. I smiled when I saw the caller ID. “Anna, are you on your way?” my mother asked, worry already lacing her voice. “It’s getting late.” “Mama, I’m close by,” I replied quickly, hoping to calm her. “I’ll be home soon.” She sighed softly before hanging up. I glanced at my wristwatch. 9:00 p.m. I picked up my pace, the cake box swinging lightly at my side. The streetlamps flickered above me, casting long shadows on the pavement. That was when I heard it. Voices. At first, they were faint, barely noticeable, but as I walked farther, the sounds grew clearer. I slowed down, my brows pulling together in confusion. Instead of turning right—the familiar path that led directly home—I found myself drifting left, toward the source of the noise. It was a narrow alleyway, one people rarely used because of how quiet and isolated it was. My instincts told me to turn back, but curiosity pushed me forward. Then I heard a woman’s voice. She was moaning—but not in a way that sounded like pleasure. There was something strained and tired about it that made my stomach tighten. As I moved closer, my eyes landed on a car parked crookedly to the side. A woman was pressed against the hood, her face turned away, her hands braced weakly on the metal. Behind her stood a man, his grip firm around her waist, his movements rough and relentless. My breath caught. Oh God. They were having s*x. Right there. In the open. Shock rooted me to the spot. I quickly crouched behind a large trash bin, my heart pounding as I watched. “Please… stop,” the woman said quietly, her voice barely audible. That single sentence sent a chill down my spine. She wasn’t enjoying this. The man didn’t slow down. If anything, his movements became harsher, angrier, as though her words had only fueled him. I had never had s*x before. Life hadn’t exactly been kind to me in that area. My first boyfriend, Mark, had left the country with his family before things ever got serious. My second—and last—boyfriend, Brian, had shattered what little trust I had when I caught him in bed with the girl he claimed was his cousin. I’d seen intimate scenes in movies. I knew what passion looked like. This wasn’t it. Are they drunk? Is this… r**e? My thoughts raced, panic tightening my chest. “Shut up,” the man snapped, his voice sharp and cruel. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, ignoring her pained sound. “Beg me.” My stomach twisted violently. Then it happened. A metal can slipped from the top of the trash bin beside me and hit the ground with a loud clang. The sound echoed through the alley. The man froze. “Who’s there?” he shouted. He pulled away from the woman and turned sharply toward my hiding spot. I gasped. Too loud. My hand flew to my mouth, but it was useless. The sound had already escaped. I stood up instinctively, fear taking over every rational thought I had. His eyes met mine. For a brief, terrifying second, the world seemed to stop. His face was partially lit by the moonlight, sharp and cold, his gaze dark and unreadable. He cursed under his breath. That was all it took. I turned and ran. I didn’t look back. I didn’t stop. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my heart pounding wildly in my chest as fear chased me down the empty street.