Devour Me Slowly : Heaven's Scar

EPISODE - 2

While Damon drowned in whiskey and sleep, far across London, in a modest little home tucked into a quieter street, tension filled the air. The small living room was cozy but worn—faded wallpaper, scuffed wooden floors, and a tiny heater humming in the corner. This was Leo’s home—simple, tight, but safe in its own way.

In his room, Leo paced nervously, fingers running through his dark brown hair, eyes darting to a stack of overdue bills on his desk. His jaw was tight; he had received his last warning to return the money he owed, and the thought of failure clawed at him. He was lean, wiry, with restless energy, sharp green eyes flickering with worry.

The door creaked open, revealing Aurora, his older sister. “Leo… what’s going on?” she asked softly, stepping inside, her voice carrying care and worry.

Leo froze mid-step, his hands clenching. He shook his head slightly and muttered, “Nothing… it’s nothing.”

Aurora frowned, taking a tentative step closer. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” she said gently, trying to read the tension in his posture.

“I said it’s fine,” he snapped lightly, brushing past her toward his desk. “Don’t worry about me. Just… forget it.”

Aurora bit her lip, the worry in her eyes deepening, but she didn’t press further. She knew Leo well enough to sense when he didn’t want to talk. With a soft sigh, she nodded and backed toward the door.

“Alright… just… take care of yourself, okay?” she said quietly, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room.

Leo exhaled sharply as the door clicked shut, running a hand over his face. Alone again, the weight of the debt pressed down harder, but he refused to let anyone else see the fear that gnawed at him.

Aurora closed the door of Leo’s room behind her, but her heart was restless. His answer—“Nothing”—was far from convincing. She stood there in the narrow corridor of their little London home, her fingers brushing against the peeling wallpaper. A sigh escaped her lips.

She had just returned from her late-night shift at The Pride Bar, the dim lights and loud music of the place still ringing in her ears. The smell of cheap perfume and alcohol clung faintly to her hair, though she hated it. Every night she worked there, she told herself it was temporary—a sacrifice for survival.

Aurora’s appearance spoke volumes about her resilience. She had a beautiful hourglass figure, not overly curvy but graceful in a way that seemed natural. Her skin glowed pale under the corridor’s dim bulb, her long chestnut-brown hair tied loosely, some strands framing her soft face. Her ocean-blue eyes held a quiet sadness tonight, reflecting the weight of her brother’s hidden struggles.

She bit her lip, whispering to herself, “Why do I feel he’s hiding something big?” The thought gnawed at her. Aurora was sensitive, nurturing by nature, the type of person who worried more about others than herself. Leo was all she had left, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him to some shadow she didn’t yet understand.

She walked slowly to her own room, dropping her bag on the rickety chair near the bed. Sitting there in silence, Aurora stared at the window where the London rain tapped softly, her mind only circling around her brother. She didn’t know what storm he was facing, but she was determined—whatever it was, she would not let him drown in it alone.

Aurora rubbed her tired eyes, the weight of the day finally pressing down on her. Her shoulders ached from hours of carrying trays and dodging drunken hands at the bar, and her legs throbbed from standing too long. With a slow sigh, she rose from the chair and slipped out of her work clothes, changing into a soft, worn nightdress that smelled faintly of lavender.

She folded her uniform neatly on the chair, a habit she had never abandoned despite her exhaustion. Then, pulling back the thin blanket on her bed, she lowered herself onto the mattress. The rain continued its gentle tapping against the window, a lullaby only London could sing.

Her chestnut hair spilled across the pillow as she curled on her side, the quiet sadness in her ocean-blue eyes finally surrendering to the heaviness of sleep. Within minutes, her breathing softened, the tension easing from her face.

Aurora Grace—tired, fragile, but quietly strong—drifted into slumber, unaware that beyond the safety of her modest home, shadows were already moving closer, and her life was about to change forever.

While the whole of London lay quiet under the blanket of night, its streets emptied and homes lulled in silence, only a few restless souls still wandered the darkness. The city seemed to breathe slower, heavier—like it too had finally surrendered to sleep.

And then, slowly, the horizon began to change. The first pale streaks of dawn cut through the fading night, brushing the rain-washed streets in soft gold. The fog lifted little by little, and with it came the hum of life returning. London stirred awake—its markets, its noise, its secrets—all hidden beneath the ordinary rush of morning.

The sun rose. And with it, the day that would begin to entwine Aurora Grace’s fragile world with the darkness of Damon Cross.

Right now, Aurora sat up on her old wooden chair, staring blankly at the wall. Her brother had once dreamed of starting a business, but after his failure she no longer knew what path he would take—or what would happen to them. To keep their small world afloat, she had taken up two jobs: one as a cashier in a quiet little bookstore during the day, and another as a waitress in a bustling café by night.

After getting ready in a simple white top and cargo jeans Aurora stepped out of her room, brushing aside the tiredness clinging to her eyes. In the small kitchen, she cracked a few eggs and quickly whisked them, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet house. Soon, the aroma of a French omelette filled the air. She placed the plates on the table, calling Leo to join her.

They ate silently, the clinking of cutlery the only sound between them. Aurora kept glancing at her brother, noticing the worry etched on his face. Finishing her last bite, she stood and picked up her bag.

“Don’t take unnecessary tensions, okay?” she told him softly, her voice carrying both care and firmness. With that, she left for her shift, the door closing behind her.

Leo sat staring at the half-eaten omelette on his plate, Aurora’s words echoing in his head. He felt a strange mixture of guilt and pity—guilt because he had dragged himself into a mess he couldn’t handle, and pity because his sister, after working long hours, still worried more about him than herself.

He clenched his fists under the table, wishing he could hide his troubles from her forever. But deep down, he knew the storm would soon knock on their door, whether he wanted it or not.

Five months ago, Leo had gone to Cross Heights Company, led by Damon Cross, after securing an appointment that he wanted from months. He had walked into the sleek, intimidating office, the city’s skyline stretched behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, and tried to steady his nerves.

Sitting across from Damon, he swallowed hard and laid out his request. “I want money to start my business,” he said, trying to sound confident.

Damon’s steel-gray eyes studied him silently for a long moment. Then, with his usual calm, controlled tone, he asked, “Okay… if I give you money, what do I get in return?”

Leo hesitated, heart hammering. “I… I’ll give you back the money with twenty percent interest,” he finally managed.

Damon’s gaze sharpened. “And if you don’t?”

Leo froze, scrambling for an answer. His mind raced, panic rising. He could feel Damon’s presence like a shadow pressing down, analyzing, calculating.

Damon leaned back, steepling his fingers, the faintest smirk curving his lips. His voice was low, deliberate, and utterly terrifying. “Let me make this very simple. I don’t forgive failure. I don’t tolerate mistakes. You either deliver what you promised… or you face consequences far worse than you can imagine.”

Leo swallowed hard, the words echoing in his mind. “Y-Yes… I understand,” he whispered.

Damon nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Good. Then we have an understanding. Fail me… and you’ll learn very quickly that I don’t waste time on excuses.”

Leo left the office that day with a pounding heart. He had come seeking a chance to start his business, but he now knew that borrowing from Damon Cross was a deal bound by shadows, and the consequences of failure were not something to take lightly.

Presently, Leo gulped hard, his mind racing. The memory of Damon’s piercing steel-gray eyes and that faint, chilling smirk refused to fade. He felt the weight of the debt pressing down on him like a living thing, relentless and unforgiving.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of ways to save himself from the beast he had willingly bound himself to. Every plan seemed inadequate, every idea fleeting. Damon Cross wasn’t a man who tolerated failure—or mercy.

Leo’s chest tightened, and a cold knot of fear settled deep in his stomach. He had borrowed money to chase a dream, but now it felt more like a trap. A predator waiting patiently, calculating every misstep.

He looked around their small living room, at the worn furniture and fading wallpaper, and whispered under his breath, “How do I get out of this… before it’s too late?”

On one hand, Leo was growing more terrified by the minute, the memory of Damon’s cold, calculating presence gnawing at him. Every plan he tried to form in his mind seemed fragile, like it could shatter under the weight of the debt—and under the shadow of the man he had borrowed from.

On the other hand, Aurora was working tirelessly, unaware of the full extent of her brother’s troubles. She moved between tables at the café, balancing trays and taking orders, her cheerful voice a mask for the exhaustion that tugged at her limbs. At the bookstore during the day, she smiled politely at customers, rang up sales, and organized shelves, all while her mind occasionally drifted back to Leo.

The contrast was stark—one sibling drowning in fear and desperation, the other keeping life afloat with unyielding determination, both bound together by invisible threads of worry, responsibility, and love.

Aurora was busy scanning books and arranging shelves when she overheard the conversation between the two other cashiers.

“Hey… did you see the news last night?” one asked, lowering her voice as she leaned against the counter.

“Yeah… that Damon Cross guy?” the other replied, eyes wide. “I can’t believe it. He killed someone… brutally… in Camden Alley. The news showed the footage and everything. People are still talking about it.”

“Camden Alley? That narrow lane behind the warehouses?” the first cashier asked, shivering.

“Exactly. Apparently, it was quick… precise. No one even saw it coming until it was done. He just… walked in and handled it. And now the whole city is scared of him.”

Aurora’s hands froze over the scanner. Damon Cross—the name rang faintly in her mind, like a dark shadow from a story she had only half-believed. The news had made him infamous, a man whose reputation could stop the city in its tracks.

Before the conversation could go any further, the owner of the bookstore appeared, his face stern and eyes sharp.

“Hey! What are you two doing?” he barked, striding over. “This is not the time for gossip! Office hours are for work, not for talking!”

The two cashiers jumped slightly, guilt written all over their faces. “S-Sorry, sir,” one of them stammered, lowering her head.

Aurora quietly shook her head, a small sigh escaping her lips. The conversation had been interrupted, but the chilling story lingered in her mind, mixing with the constant worry she carried for Leo.