The devil´s promise

The clock on the wall read 1:17 a.m. Elena Carter stared at it through the darkness. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid someone downstairs might hear it. She looked at the small black bag lying on her bed. It wasn't much. Two shirts. A pair of jeans. Underwear. A toothbrush. Her passport. Three hundred and forty euros. And one photograph. Elena picked up the photograph and stared at it. Her mother was smiling. She had one arm around Elena's shoulders, and Elena remembered that day clearly. She had been younger then. Before everything had changed. Before her father had become someone she was afraid of. She carefully placed the photograph inside her bag. Then she heard footsteps. Elena froze. Heavy footsteps. Coming up the stairs. Her father's. She quickly switched off the lamp. The bedroom door opened. "Elena?" She closed her eyes. Daniel Carter stood in the doorway. "Why are you awake?" "I'm not." Silence. Then he laughed quietly. "You think I'm stupid?" Elena didn't answer. His eyes moved toward the bed. Toward the bag. Her stomach dropped. "What's that?" "Nothing." He crossed the room. Elena stepped backward. Daniel grabbed her wrist. Pain shot through her arm. "Don't lie to me." "Let go." His fingers tightened. "You don't leave this house without my permission." For years, Elena had heard those words. For years, she had obeyed. But tonight was different. Tonight she had made a decision. "I'm leaving." Daniel stared at her. "What did you say?" "I'm leaving." His expression changed. He raised his hand. Elena flinched. And something inside her finally snapped. She shoved him. Daniel stumbled backward. For one second, they simply stared at each other. Elena knew she had only one chance. She grabbed her bag. Ran through the doorway. Down the stairs. And out the front door. "ELENA!" She ran. Barefoot. The cold pavement hurt beneath her feet, but she didn't stop. She didn't look back. Her lungs burned. Her eyes filled with tears. But she kept running. She had no plan. No destination. Only one thought in her head. Get away. The street was almost empty. Then headlights appeared ahead. A black car stood beside the road. Elena slowed. The driver's door opened. A man stepped out. He was tall. Very tall. Broad-shouldered, dressed completely in black. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a small scar crossed the skin near his right eyebrow. His eyes were almost black. Cold. Focused. Dangerous. Elena stopped several meters away. "Don't come closer." The man didn't move. Instead, he looked directly at her. "Elena Carter." Her blood ran cold. "How do you know my name?" "I've been looking for you." She took a step backward. "Who are you?" "Damian Moretti." The name meant nothing to her. But there was something about the way he said it. Something that made her feel as though she should already know exactly who he was. "I don't know you." "I know." His eyes moved briefly toward the road behind her. Then returned to her face. "You need to get into the car." "No." "Elena." "How do I know you're not going to hurt me?" For the first time, his expression changed. Barely. "You don't." The answer surprised her. He didn't try to convince her. Didn't lie. He simply opened the passenger door. "But the man coming after you will." Elena turned. Far behind her, a shadow moved near the house. Her father. Panic surged through her. She looked back at Damian. He was still waiting. Not touching her. Not forcing her. Just waiting. Elena swallowed. Then she ran toward the car. She climbed inside. Damian closed the door. Seconds later, the car pulled away. Elena pressed herself against the passenger door. "Where are you taking me?" "Somewhere safe." "I want to go home." Damian glanced at her. "You don't have one anymore." The words cut deeper than she expected. Elena turned toward the window. She didn't want him to see her cry. For several minutes, neither spoke. Then she finally asked, "Why were you looking for me?" Damian's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Because your father is connected to my family." "What does that mean?" "It means I have questions." "About what?" "Things that happened years ago." Elena looked at him. "What things?" He didn't answer. "Why won't you tell me?" "Because you don't know enough yet." "Then tell me." His jaw tightened. "You'll get answers." "When?" "When I know you're ready for them." Elena almost laughed. "You don't even know me." Damian looked at her. "I know more about you than you think." She went silent. A strange chill moved through her. "What does that mean?" He didn't answer. The journey seemed endless. Eventually, the car turned through enormous iron gates. Elena stared through the windshield. A huge house stood on top of a hill. Stone walls. Tall windows. Security cameras. Men stationed near the entrance. It looked beautiful. And terrifying. The gates closed behind them. Elena looked at Damian. "Where are we?" "My home." "I can't stay here." "You can." "I don't want to." Damian parked. He turned toward her. "You can leave whenever you want." Elena blinked. "What?" "I won't lock you in." She didn't believe him. He opened his door. Then paused. "There is one thing you need to understand." Elena looked at him. "You're in danger." She swallowed. "Because of my father?" "Not only because of him." He stepped out. Elena remained in the car. Damian walked around to her side and opened the door. He didn't reach for her. He simply waited. Finally, Elena stepped outside. The front doors opened. A man stood inside. Tall, serious, with dark hair. Beside him was another man with an amused expression. A woman stood a few steps behind them. Damian walked past. "Take her upstairs." The woman nodded. Elena looked at Damian. "Who are these people?" "My family." She looked around. "Your family?" He stopped. "No." His eyes met hers. "Something closer." Much later, after Elena had been shown to a bedroom, Damian stood alone in his office. He closed the door. Then opened a drawer. Inside was an old photograph. A photograph he had looked at hundreds of times. His older brother, Adrian, stood in the center. He was smiling. Beside him stood a much younger Damian. And beside Adrian stood another young man. Daniel Carter. Damian turned the photograph over. Five words were written on the back in his father's handwriting. Trust no one from the Carter family. Damian's eyes hardened. He had spent years trying to understand what had happened to his brother. Years searching for the truth. And now Daniel Carter's daughter had walked directly into his house. He should have sent her away. Instead, he had brought her inside. Protected her. And he didn't yet understand why. Damian placed the photograph back on the desk. His phone vibrated. Luca. Damian answered. "Yes?" A pause. His expression changed. "Are you certain?" Another pause. Damian looked toward the window. Toward the bedroom where Elena was sleeping. "Keep watching the house." He ended the call. Something had changed tonight. He could feel it. Elena Carter was not simply a frightened nineteen-year-old girl running from an abusive father. She was connected to the past. To Adrian. To Daniel. And perhaps... to the reason Damian had never been able to let his brother's death go. He looked once more toward the hallway. Then whispered to himself: "What did your father do, Elena?" Outside, thunder rolled across the dark sky. And somewhere beyond the gates, someone was already watching the house.