A Deal With The Devil
1098 Words
Carlos sat in his car, parked in a dimly lit lot at the outskirts of the city. The place reeked of gasoline and cigarette smoke, the kind of place where bad things happened in silence. His grip tightened around the steering wheel as he checked the time.
11:57 PM.
Three minutes until the meeting.
His heart pounded against his ribcage, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had made his decision. Now, he had to face the consequences.
Headlights flashed in the distance. A black SUV rolled up beside him, its engine humming ominously. Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped out of his car.
The moment his feet touched the ground, the doors of the SUV swung open, and three men emerged.
One of them—a tall man in a black leather jacket—smirked. “Carlos Dizon,” he drawled, lighting a cigarette. “You’ve finally decided to show your face.”
Carlos straightened his posture, keeping his voice steady. “I need to talk to your boss.”
The man exhaled a puff of smoke, tilting his head. “And why should we let you?”
Carlos clenched his fists. “Because I have something he might want.”
The man studied him for a moment before smirking again. “Alright, rich boy. Let’s see if you’re worth our time.”
He gestured for Carlos to follow him.
Carlos took a deep breath. Then, without looking back, he stepped into the darkness.
---
The Next Morning…
Ica stood outside Carlos’s house, her fingers wrapped tightly around her phone.
He wasn’t answering.
She had tried calling him five times already. Nothing.
A bad feeling churned in her stomach.
After her conversation with Ly the day before, she had gone home determined to find out more about the people after Carlos’s family. She even considered asking Musea, one of her older model acquaintances, if she knew anyone who could help.
But now—Carlos was missing.
She knocked on the gate again, harder this time.
Finally, a maid answered, looking tired. “Ms. Herrera?”
“Is Carlos home?” Ica asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
The maid hesitated. “I… I don’t know, ma’am. He didn’t come home last night.”
Ica’s stomach dropped.
“Do you know where he went?” she pressed.
The maid shook her head. “No, but his father was arguing with someone on the phone earlier. He seemed… distressed.”
That was all Ica needed to hear.
She spun on her heel and pulled out her phone.
Ica: Ly, Carlos is missing.
Ly: What?!
Ica: He didn’t come home last night. I have a bad feeling about this.
Ly: Where do we start?
Ica’s fingers hovered over her keyboard.
Then she typed:
*I know who might have answers. Meet me at Musea’s place in an hour.
---
Musea’s Apartment
Musea Vivienne Torres was a name that carried weight in the modeling industry. At 19, she was already a rising star, but she also had connections to people outside the glamorous world of fashion.
People who knew things.
When Ica and Ly arrived, Musea raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you look serious,” she said, sipping her iced coffee. “What’s going on?”
Ica didn’t waste time. “We need information on a group of people who lend money to high-profile families. Dangerous people.”
Musea’s expression shifted instantly. “You mean loan sharks?”
“Yes,” Ica confirmed. “The ones who operate outside the law.”
Musea set her drink down. “Why do you need to know about them?”
Ica hesitated before answering. “They’re after Carlos.”
Musea sighed. “That’s not good.”
Ly crossed her arms. “Do you know anything about them?”
Musea leaned back in her chair, thinking. “There are a few groups that handle those kinds of deals, but if they’re going after someone like Carlos, it’s serious. That means his family owes them a lot.”
Ica’s fists clenched. “They threatened him. And they threatened me.”
Musea’s eyes darkened. “Then he’s running out of time.”
Ica felt her chest tighten. “Do you know where they might have taken him?”
Musea tapped her nails against the table. “Maybe.”
Ly leaned in. “Then tell us.”
Musea studied them both before sighing. “Alright. But if you go looking for trouble, be ready to face it.”
---
Somewhere in the City…
Carlos sat in a dimly lit warehouse, his wrists tied behind his back. A single bulb flickered above him, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
He was surrounded.
Five men stood around him, watching him like vultures waiting for their prey to die.
And then—
A slow, deliberate set of footsteps echoed through the space.
A man stepped forward. Unlike the others, he was dressed in a crisp suit, his presence exuding power. His dark eyes locked onto Carlos’s.
“Carlos Dizon,” the man said smoothly. “It’s about time we had a proper conversation.”
Carlos swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet the man’s gaze.
“I came here to make a deal,” Carlos said, keeping his voice firm.
The man smirked. “Did you, now?”
Carlos nodded. “You want money, right? I can get it for you.”
The man chuckled. “And how do you plan on doing that, señorito? Your father has nothing left to give.”
Carlos’s jaw tightened. “I’ll find a way.”
The man took a step closer, his voice lowering. “I admire your bravery, but bravery won’t save you.”
He snapped his fingers.
One of the men behind Carlos suddenly lunged forward, landing a brutal punch to Carlos’s stomach.
Carlos gasped, pain exploding through his ribs as he doubled over. His vision blurred for a second, but he forced himself to stay conscious.
The man crouched in front of him, smiling.
“You have one week,” he whispered. “One week to bring me my money.”
Carlos coughed, tasting blood in his mouth.
“And if I don’t?” he rasped.
The man’s smile widened.
“Then we’ll make an example out of you.”
Carlos felt his blood turn to ice.
He had to find a way out.
Before it was too late.
---
Meanwhile…
Ica gripped the address Musea had given her, her heart pounding.
Carlos was in danger.
And she was going to find him.
No matter what it took.
- Writer
