THE DEVIL YOU NEED

The morning sunlight filtered gently through sheer curtains, dancing across the walls of Eden Haven’s bedroom. It was soft, golden, and almost holy — the kind of light that made things feel safe. Pure. Fitting, really. Today was her last day of safety. Eden sat up slowly, her heart thrumming like a drumline beneath her ribs. Excitement mingled with nerves as her eyes landed on the packed suitcase by the door. Her whole life — twenty-two years of Sunday sermons, whispered prayers, and good girl expectations — was folded into that one bag. She was leaving Halbrook, the quiet town where everyone knew who her father was — and who she had to be. She was moving to New Carthage, a city that didn't care about small-town halos. And tomorrow, she would start as a legal liaison intern at Blackwood & Co., one of the most powerful, secretive crisis management firms in the country. Her first real job. Her first real freedom. Her first real danger. She smiled to herself and stretched, whispering under her breath: “Lead me not into temptation…” Then she chuckled. “...But maybe let me pass through it real quick.” --- ✦ Her father was already seated at the kitchen table when she came down, his Bible open beside a steaming cup of black coffee. The kitchen smelled like old wood and quiet warnings. Nothing had changed. Except her. “Morning, Daddy,” Eden said, wrapping her arms around herself. He looked up slowly. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes — those cold, calculating preacher’s eyes — scanned her like a threat assessment. “You prayed this morning?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” He nodded once. “Armor of God?” “Fully dressed,” she said softly. “Truth, righteousness, peace, salvation, faith, Spirit. Covered.” He tapped a finger on his Bible. “You’re going into a world that doesn’t want your light, Eden. It wants your silence. It wants your body. It wants your soul.” “I know.” “You don’t,” he said. “Not really.” Eden sat down across from him and wrapped her fingers around a chipped mug. Her voice was gentle. “I’m not a child.” “No. But you’re not ready, either.” His jaw ticked. “This city — this... Blackwood company — it’s built on secrets. Scandal. Power without mercy. They don’t save souls there. They bury them.” “Then maybe they need someone who knows what mercy looks like,” she whispered. That got a small scoff out of him. “Just don’t forget who you are. And don’t let them teach you the wrong kind of power.” “I won’t.” She stood and kissed his forehead. “But I have to go, Daddy. I have to find out who I am... outside of here.” He didn’t hug her back. But his voice cracked just a little when he said, “Your mother would’ve told you to be brave. I’m telling you to be careful.” Eden smiled sadly. “I’ll try to be both.” --- ✦ New Carthage hit her like a drug. The air smelled like ambition, car fumes, and freshly spilled espresso. Skyscrapers stabbed the sky, and the sidewalks pulsed with people who didn’t care who she was. It was chaos — glorious, unsupervised chaos. She dragged her suitcase into her tiny studio apartment just outside downtown, dropped onto the bed, and let out a breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding for years. This was hers. No one knew her name. No one whispered about her father. No one cared if she was the preacher’s daughter or just another girl with big eyes and a law degree. She was free. Tomorrow, she'd become Eden Haven: legal intern at Blackwood & Co. --- ✦ She arrived fifteen minutes early, dressed in a soft cream blouse and navy skirt — modest but smart, her dark curls pinned back. She looked innocent. Capable. In control. Too bad it was mostly a lie. Blackwood & Co. was terrifying in person. The building was tall, cold, and gleaming like judgment day in glass and steel. The logo was simple: a sleek black B carved into the wall. The receptionist barely glanced at her. “Legal floor. Eleventh. Welcome to the war zone.” The elevator doors closed behind her like a vault. --- The legal department buzzed with cold efficiency. Everything was quiet, sleek, professional. Her supervisor — a sharp-boned woman named Ms. Keene — showed her to a tiny cubicle. “Review contracts. Keep your head down. Don’t speak unless asked.” Eden managed a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” She tried to keep up — flipping through files, reading NDAs, wondering how much sin could be hidden in fine print. By 4:00 PM, she was exhausted and running on nerves and stale mints. Then a notification popped up on her screen: > 13B. Now. —CB She froze. CB? Her stomach flipped. Cassian Blackwood. --- ✦ Conference Room 13B was sleek and sharp, with floor-to-ceiling glass and a view of the city that looked like temptation made manifest. And there he was. Cassian Blackwood. He stood by the window like he owned the skyline — tall, powerful, dressed in tailored black. His posture was effortless. His presence was not. He turned as she entered. His eyes locked on hers — dark, unreadable, and ancient, like a storm held still behind glass. She blinked. “Mr. Blackwood?” “Miss Haven,” he said, as if tasting her name. She swallowed. “You... know who I am?” He stepped forward slowly, every movement a silent threat. “I always know who walks into my company.” His voice was deep, smooth, with just the edge of something feral beneath it. “Especially when that person is the only daughter of Pastor Elijah Haven.” Her throat went dry. “I didn’t think that was relevant to my role here.” “It’s not,” he said, eyes still fixed on her. “But it’s very relevant to me.” Eden lifted her chin, forcing herself not to shrink under his gaze. “If you have a problem with my background, you can take it up with HR.” Cassian's mouth twitched — not quite a smile. “I don’t have a problem. I have... curiosity.” He walked past her slowly, his voice brushing against the nape of her neck like a secret. “Tell me, Eden... what makes a preacher’s daughter come work for a company that buries sin for a living?” She didn’t flinch. “Maybe I want to understand the devil before I try to fight him.” He paused just behind her. Close. Too close. “No,” he said, low and dark. “You came because something in you wants him.” Eden turned, breath catching. They stood there — inches apart — and for one long moment, the air between them pulsed with something raw and wrong and alive. Cassian’s eyes dipped to her mouth, then back up to her eyes. His voice was like silk over fire. “Welcome to Blackwood & Co., Miss Haven. Let’s see how long your armor lasts.”