The Devil's Price
1626 Words
Why is my heart beating so fast? Especially when he leaned in and gently kissed me.
I should have fought back or pushed him away. But I couldn't. There's something about him that pulls me in.
When he kissed me again and again, I didn’t resist. Even though he's a stranger.
Why does he feel so familiar, like we’ve been apart for far too long?
Who is he? Why does his touch and kisses make my heart ache with longing?
"Who are you?" he asked again after our lips finally parted.
"Lune..."
He brushed his nose against mine as his arms tightened around me. I looked up at his face, which was perfect, like that of an angel sent down from heaven.
"And you?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Who are you really?"
"Your destiny."
Our lips met once more, and this time, he took me deeper and wilder.
His hands roamed my body, leaving me breathless. Each touch of his fingers and each warm breath against my skin pulsed through my veins.
He gently laid me down on the couch and slowly removed every piece of clothing covering me. His scent surrounded me, and I wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms.
My head felt light; my body moved in rhythm with his. He filled my mind and soul, and he was all I could focus on.
I gave him everything, including the crown I had protected for so long. I gave it to him willingly.
"Lune," he whispered.
His ragged breaths tickled my ear and made me shiver. I gasped beneath his touch, surrendering to his every move.
As things grew more intense, I lost all control. I cried out, moaning from the pleasure he gave me.
The only thing I could hear was his voice echoing in my ears as he claimed me.
"Lune, you're mine. Forever...”
…
I gasped and woke up on the lumpy, old couch. My head pounded, and my body ached. Why did I fall asleep here?
No motorcycle. No mysterious guy.
Was it all just a dream?
It felt real, but there was no one around. The garage was empty and silent.
My whole body throbbed as if I'd been beaten up. Maybe I overdid it cleaning the garage. I grabbed my bag, turned off the lights hurriedly, and locked up.
Ugh, the pain in my lower body! It was brutal—the kind of pain that makes it hard to walk straight. Could my period be coming soon? But this felt different. I'd never felt anything like this before.
Whatever it was, Dad could not find out. He'd drag me to the doctor, but we seriously needed to save every penny we had for the mortgage and rent.
As I walked, I pulled my phone out of my bag and froze. It was already past midnight.
Crap! Dad was going to be furious when he found out how late I was getting home.
But there were no missed calls. No messages. That was weird.
I had a bad feeling in my chest as I reached the apartment building and hurried upstairs. When I got to our apartment, I saw our neighbor, Ray, standing in front of our closed door.
"Is your dad home?" Ray asked. "I knocked, but there was no answer."
My brows furrowed. "Dad should've been home hours ago."
"He's not answering. I've come by three times already, and there's been no response."
Dad didn't have any friends that he hung out with. His whole life basically consisted of the garage, the apartment, and watching TV. There was no way he'd go out without telling me.
"Really?" I asked.
"And where have you been? Why are you coming home this late?"
I didn't answer. I didn't owe him an explanation. I quickly reached into my bag and grabbed the key, but when I tried to unlock the door, the key wouldn't fit. Something was blocking it.
"Dad!" I pounded on the door. "Dad! It's me! Open the door!"
"Move, Lune!" Ray ordered.
He kicked the door hard once, then twice, until the doorknob snapped. We rushed inside.
My legs gave out the second I saw my dad lying unconscious on the floor, flat on his back.
I sprinted to him, panic crashing through me.
"Dad! Dad!"
*
The piece of paper in my hand was filled with numbers that made my chest tighten. They were just numbers—nothing that could truly guarantee a second chance at life for Dad. But the doctor said surgery was his only hope.
Dad needed bypass surgery. Without it, he probably wouldn't survive.
We didn't have any insurance to cover the hospital costs, and I had no idea how to come up with that massive amount of funds.
I only had 20 hours to raise at least half of the listed amount.
Even that felt impossible.
Suddenly, a cup was offered to me. I looked up and saw Ray handing it to me.
"It's chocolate. I know you don't like coffee," he said.
I took the cup. "Thanks."
Ray sat down beside me and took a sip of his coffee. We had been waiting for hours for an update on Dad, but the only thing we got was this nightmare.
"Is there any chance the hospital can offer some kind of compensation?" Ray asked.
I shook my head. "This isn't a charity."
Ray reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out $300, and handed it to me. "This is part of the payment for the car repair. I'll look for a loan to pay off the rest."
I pushed his hand back. "Keep it. Later."
And just like that, I sounded like Dad.
"You should go find some passengers, Ray. There's no point in sitting here with me. There's nothing we can do for Dad." My voice trembled as I looked at him; tears blurred my vision.
"I'll try to find a loan. Whatever I can gather will help, at least. Okay?" Ray stood up. "I promise you, Lune. Don't worry."
Ray left. The guilt crept inside me.
I had been so angry with him earlier. But now? Ray was the only one helping me. That realization hit me hard.
Dad always saw the good in people, something I never quite understood before.
Still, even Ray's kindness couldn't guarantee anything for Dad right now.
What I needed was a miracle.
I needed someone who could help me in this desperate moment.
I stood up, folded the paper, and put it in my back pocket. Sitting here wasn't going to solve anything. I had to do something.
As I walked out of the hospital, I tried to think. Was there anyone Dad still had connections with? Anyone who might help?
No one came to mind.
Except for one name.
It was a name I didn't want to say out loud. But he might be able to help if I asked him.
The problem was that he was the one person Dad hated more than anyone.
But screw it. I had to do this.
I ran to the bus stop, my heart pounding as I waited impatiently for the next bus. The whole ride home, I kept second-guessing myself. Should I really ask for help from the man who made Dad so furious?
His name was Mr. Sullivan, a so-called "businessman" in our neighborhood. According to Dad, he was a loan shark and a Mafia boss. Dad despised him and said he made poor people suffer even more.
Being poor was already a curse. Even something as basic as food was uncertain from one day to the next.
If life were fair, there wouldn't be so much struggle. But life isn't fair. That could only happen in heaven.
The bus stopped, and I got off at the stop closest to our home. As I walked toward Mr. Sullivan's place, a part of me still hesitated. But my feet didn't stop.
Finally, I stood in front of his house.
It was the biggest house on the block, with thugs standing guard at the gate. Most people went out of their way to avoid walking past it.
But me? I walked right up.
The guards looked at me like hungry wolves; a few let out low whistles.
"Where you headed, baby?" one of them asked.
"I need to see Mr. Sullivan. It's important," I said firmly.
"Do you have an appointment? Or maybe you want to go on a date with me instead?"
They all laughed. Their laughter felt like mockery.
God, was this really the right decision?
Part of me regretted coming. But the other part of me knew I had no choice.
"Please, I'm here because it's urgent," I pleaded.
An older guard opened the gate. "Are you Jacob Underwood's kid?"
"Yes," I nodded.
"Go in."
I walked into the perfectly manicured yard—neat and elegant—not at all what you'd expect from a house in South Balmoral. One of the guards led me through a quiet corridor and stopped in front of a black wooden door.
He opened the door and announced, "Boss, Jacob Underwood's daughter is here to see you."
I blinked in surprise.
Why did Mr. Sullivan know my dad's name? As far as I knew, they had never been connected in any way.
A middle-aged man stood up from his seat and looked at me sharply. A slow smile curled his lips—a smile that sent chills down my spine.
"Well, this is unexpected. Jacob's daughter. Come in and take a seat," said Mr. Sullivan, gesturing toward the couch.
I hesitated, then quickly shook my head. "I'll stand, sir."
He shrugged and sat down comfortably. "Suit yourself. So, what brings you here?"
- Writer
