He's The Devil
1902 Words
HER
Trust was the most dangerous concept in the world, and Sera knew that all too well as she walked at a careful distance behind the terrifying man ahead of her.
“That’s one weird-looking clinic,” she muttered, her voice low, almost swallowed by the night, as they stepped out of the surprisingly massive building and onto the path leading toward the ridiculously large mansion at the heart of the property.
“It’s not supposed to be a normal clinic,” Cassian replied, his tone flat, and uninterested, as he continued walking without a glance back.
“That’s where your men get treated?” Sera asked before she could stop herself, her steps uneven, her body lagging behind his effortless pace. He didn’t reply.
Of course he didn’t.
Sera exhaled slowly and decided to keep quiet. She hadn’t realized how vast the property was until now. The distance between the clinic and the mansion felt endless, like she had been dropped into some cruel marathon she never signed up for. And the man in front of her… he didn’t even seem remotely affected. It was deep into the night, and he was dressed in a black three-piece suit, the jacket draped lazily over his shoulders like it weighed nothing. Even from behind, he was… distractingly built.
The thought made Sera scrunch her nose in irritation. What the hell is wrong with you?
The pain in her legs grew unbearable, sharp and consuming, until she finally stopped, her hands pressing against her chest as she stared down at the ground. “I’m afraid I can’t do this anymore.”
He kept walking.
Sera let out a humorless breath and sank to the ground, her hands trembling slightly as she forced herself to breathe evenly. The moon hung high above, bright and beautiful, its soft glow mocking the dirt clinging to her skin, the exhaustion weighing her down. For a second, she let herself look at it.
Then his voice cut through everything. “Keep walking.”
Her head snapped up. He was already several feet ahead, and hadn't even bothered to stop or turn. “I can’t. Everything hurts.”
He stopped. Slowly, and deliberately, he turned around, his glare sharp enough to cut. “And you’re telling me this… because?”
“You asked me to keep walking,” she muttered, pushing herself up despite the protest of her body. “I don’t remember offering to tell you anything.”
“I didn’t ask. I told you. And I won’t repeat myself.” His voice carried a quiet, dangerous edge, his annoyance barely concealed. “Don’t push me.”
Sera felt something hot and bitter coil in her chest, her hatred for him multiplying with every second. She forced herself forward, her body threatening to give out beneath her.
“Wherever we’re going,” she said as she passed him, her voice tight with strain and defiance, “there better be a shower and food waiting for me, because I swear I’ll turn your life upside down if you dragged me all this way just to lock me up again.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t care for one.
She stopped only when she reached the mansion, its towering structure casting long, suffocating shadows over her. She stood there, waiting, as he deliberately slowed his steps behind her.
A dozen guards stood at the entrance, their eyes fixed on her with open hostility.
Sera frowned. “What’s your deal?”
Silence.
But their expressions said enough.
Her throat tightened slightly as she scanned their faces, searching for the one who had been cuffed to her earlier that morning. He wasn’t there.
The guards’ expressions shifted the moment Cassian approached, their hostility smoothing into something neutral, and controlled. So it was clear their aggression wasn’t general. It was personal.
Right. She had gotten one of their own killed. Not exactly a great first impression.
Cassian stepped inside, and she followed. The sudden brightness of the interior made her squint, the luxury almost aggressive in its perfection. Everything was pristine, calculated, expensive in a way that didn’t need to announce itself.
She refused to look around too much.
It was beautiful. And it belonged to him. That alone made her hate it.
“They hate me,” she muttered as they reached the top of the stairs, exhaustion lacing her voice.
He turned slightly, his eyes meeting hers, a flicker of confusion passing through them. “Your guards. They hate me.”
He raised a brow, though the subtle tightening of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed. “Do you like them?”
Sera rolled her eyes. He was playing dumb. Intentionally. “You know what I’m talking about.”
He turned away again, continuing down the hall. “I don’t think I do.”
She groaned under her breath. “You do. They probably think it’s my fault he died.”
He stopped in front of a door and looked at her, his expression bored, almost dismissive. “Isn’t that the truth?”
Her nostrils flared. “No one would have died if you had kept that gun away. You killed him.”
He didn’t react. Not even slightly.
“Did you think you were going to escape?” he asked instead, his tone shifting, colder now.
The air tightened. Sera held his gaze but said nothing.
His eyes darkened. “You seem to have this twisted idea that you can mess with me.” His voice dropped, quiet but lethal. “Don’t.”
She met his stare head-on, refusing to shrink. “I’m not going to stay locked up waiting for you to release me.” She folded her arms despite the pain it caused. “I’ll try to escape every chance I get.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Even after what happened?”
“Even after what happened. I’m not your captive.”
He stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between them, suffocating and absolute. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said calmly. Too calmly.
“You think you can escape? You can’t. You think you’re not my captive?” His hand shot out, gripping her wrist hard enough to make her wince. He didn’t loosen his hold. “You are.”
His voice lowered further, each word deliberate. “The moment you thought you could mess with my warehouses was the moment you signed your life away. I will ruin you. Every part of you.”
Sera’s jaw tightened. She hated the certainty in his voice. Hated how easily he spoke of destroying her, like it was already done. But he was wrong if he thought she would break.
“You think you’ve caught a helpless mouse?” she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “You should pray you’re wrong.”
She lifted her hand to his wrist, forcing his grip closer to her face, her gaze sharp, mocking. “I’m not scared of you.” There was a pause.
“Mr. Cassian Vale… if I had another chance?” Her lips curved, cold and deliberate. “I’d still burn those warehouses.”
She blinked slowly. “Every single one of them.”
Something in his expression snapped. Not fully, not completely, but enough. The anger in his eyes was sharp, consuming, and barely restrained.
For the first time, she saw it. The control. And how thin it really was.
His hand moved to her neck, gripping it tightly enough to make her jerk back in instinctive fear, but he didn’t let go. “I want to see you try that again,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “So you can understand exactly how mad I can be.”
His grip tightened. “I’ll show you what a nightmare really looks like.”
Sera’s breath hitched, her pulse slamming against her throat. “Escape,” he continued, his voice almost calm again, which made it worse, “I’d love to see you try. Then you’ll watch the bodies drop. Anyone who helps you… dies.”
Her stomach twisted. “I’ll find everything I want,” he went on, his gaze locking onto hers with chilling intensity. “And that accomplice of yours?” He paused. “I’ll give him the most painful death hell has to offer.”
A shiver crawled down her spine. “Then,” he added, leaning closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “when I’m done…”
Her breath stilled.
“I’ll kill you.” The whisper was soft, and final. “Whatever stories you’ve heard about me,” he murmured, “they don’t even begin to touch what I am.”
Sera’s chest tightened, but he didn't stop. “And I’ll show you.
She shoved him back, stumbling a step away, her breathing uneven, her skin still burning where he had touched her. She needed distance. Needed air.
There was something in his eyes… something empty, endless, like a dark alley with no way out. He wasn’t the devil’s companion.
He was the devil.
“What am I doing in your house?” she asked, her voice lower now, avoiding his gaze.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the door behind him. “Get in.”
Her brows furrowed immediately. “You must be out of your mind if you think I’ll just do whatever you say.”
He turned slowly, his jaw tightening, his gaze locking onto hers. He said nothing for a few seconds.
Then, quietly, too quietly, he said, “Get. In.”
“I told you, I’m not. You’ll have to tell me why, and–”
“I’ll give you ten seconds,” he cut in, his voice dropping into something dangerous, something that made her skin prickle. “I mean it. You don’t want to find out what happens when someone tells me no.”
Sera froze. She weighed it between her pride and survival. And when he took a single step toward her… She ran. Straight into the room.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she stopped just inside, her breath coming fast. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Not with him.
“Oh…” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
The room was… beautiful. Modern, yet detailed, every piece placed with deliberate precision. The bed alone was massive, soft-looking, inviting in a way that felt almost unreal. But it wasn’t the room that held her attention. It was the food.
A tray sat neatly on the nightstand, the aroma rich, warm, real. Her stomach twisted painfully.
She moved toward it slowly at first, then faster, stopping just short of touching it, blinking as if it might disappear. Is this a trick? She turned as he walked past her into the walk-in closet, returning seconds later and tossing something onto the bed beside her.
It was a bag. She picked it up cautiously, opening it just enough to peek inside. There were clean clothes, and they looked new.
Her fingers tightened slightly before she dropped it back onto the bed like it burned.
This didn’t make sense. None of this did. Sera stood there, staring at nothing, her chest rising and falling slowly.
When she looked up again, he was gone. The door clicked shut. Then the lock followed.
The devil had given her food.
And clothes.
- Writer
