Chapter 6 :The Devil
945 Words
His concern, his fear for me, breaks something inside me, and I sob even harder. My body shakes as I try to force words through the endless stream of tears.
"Chase, please come get me," I choke out in a tiny, pathetic voice, barely more than a whisper. The fight has drained from me, my spirit shattered. I don’t care about anything else—I just want to be home. His concern, his fear for me, breaks something inside me, and I sob even harder. My body shakes as I try to force words through the endless stream of tears.
Silence.
A cold, dead silence on the line.
My breath hitches. My stomach twists into a tight, suffocating knot.
"Chase?"
No answer.
Panic surges through me as I pull the phone away, staring at the black screen in horror.
No, no, no...!
My phone is dead.
A strangled sob escapes my throat. Did he hear me? Did he catch those last, desperate words? Does he know where I am?
Or am I truly, utterly alone?
What a f*****g disaster of a day.
No-scratch that. What a f*****g f****d-up, completely catastrophic day and to think it all started with that arrogant jerk. The moment he walked into my life, everything spiralled into madness-one thing after another, like a chain reaction of chaos I never saw coming. Now here, I am.
Locked in a dungeon.
Cold. Hungry. Exhausted.
I lie on the only thing that passes as a bed-an old flimsy mattress, thin as paper, with no blanket to shield me from the biting chill.
The damp air clings to my skin, seeping into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably. My body aches, my muscles stiff from tension, and my stomach twists painfully from hunger.
I have no more tears left to cry. The well has run dry.
My eyes burn, heavy with exhaustion, but sleep feels impossible. My teeth chatter as I curl into myself, wrapping my arms around my body for whatever little warmth I can find.
And then, just to make things worse, a dull, throbbing headache begins to creep in—slow, relentless, pounding beneath my eyes like a cruel afterthought to this nightmare.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to slip into unconsciousness.
Because at least in sleep, I can escape—if only for a little while.
I just want to sleep. To slip into unconsciousness and forget this horrible, f****d-up day. Maybe—just maybe—this is all a nightmare, and when I wake up, I’ll be back in my tiny, warm, and safe bedroom. Wrapped in my soft blankets. Surrounded by familiarity. Not in a freezing, godforsaken dungeon.
But the universe isn’t that kind.
A deafening alarm rips through the silence, jolting me awake. My heart lurches violently in my chest, my pulse hammering as I scramble upright. The sound is shrill, ominous, bouncing off the cold stone walls like a death knell.
I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. Minutes? Hours?
Panic claws at my throat. What if they forget about me? What if the palace goes up in flames, and no one even remembers I’m down here? Trapped. Buried. Forgotten.
Dread and despair threaten to consume me whole, but somewhere deep inside, a tiny ember of hope flickers. Chase will come for me. He always does.
Won’t he?
I shiver violently, my entire body numb with cold. My limbs are stiff, my fingers aching as I curl them into my chest. It’s so cold. I can’t stop trembling. My breath comes out in weak, uneven gasps. Please ... someone, anyone, come for me.
As if answering my silent plea, the heavy metal door suddenly bursts open with a loud, resounding thud.
I don’t even react.
I can’t.
I’m too weak to move, too drained to feel excitement or fear. Instead, I remain curled up on the flimsy excuse of a mattress, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, my body little more than a trembling mess of bruises, hunger, and ice-cold skin.
Footsteps echo against the stone floor—measured, controlled. Confident. Whoever it is, they walk with an air of belonging.
Not Chase, then.
The last shred of hope I’d been clinging to vanishes, replaced by a cold, sinking weight in my stomach.
And then—I see him.
Of course it’s him.
Who else could it be but the rich, arrogant bastard who started all of this-the Devil.
"Hallo, my darling Faye," he drawls, his voice smooth, deep, and impossibly arrogant. That same voice that had stirred something in me this morning—before my life turned into a living nightmare.
He kneels beside me, his face inches from mine, his sharp, impossibly handsome features illuminated by the dim, flickering light. His scent—intoxicating, rich, utterly unfair—wraps around me like a cruel reminder of everything I should not be noticing right now.
Why does he still smell so damn good?
Why is he still the devastatingly gorgeous devil who turned my world upside down?
And why—why, when I am covered in blood, snot, dried tears, my face puffy and red, my hair an absolute bird’s nest, my clothes stained with coffee and mud, my body barely clinging to warmth—am I even thinking about this?
I should be screaming at him. Demanding answers.
I should be asking him why.
Why he put me through hell.
Why he had me dragged here.
Why he had me locked away like a prisoner.
Instead, I just stare, my throat too raw, my body too weak, my mind too tangled in fury, exhaustion, and confusion to even know where to begin.
- Writer
