Chapter two: The Devil's claim
1080 Words
Waking Up in a Cage
The first thing Serena felt was cold.
It seeped into her bones, crawling under her skin like a silent warning. Her body ached as if she had been tossed into a pit of shadows and left there.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
She was lying on an unfamiliar bed, its silk sheets smooth beneath her fingertips. A massive chandelier above cast dim golden light, its glow flickering against walls of dark mahogany and gold-trimmed furniture. The scent of something rich and masculine—whiskey, leather, and a hint of smoke—lingered in the air.
This wasn’t home.
Her heart pounded as the memories struck her like lightning.
The men in suits. The cloth over her mouth. The auction.
Her stomach twisted violently. It was real.
She bolted upright. Her wrists were bare—no handcuffs, no ropes—but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe she was free. The massive doors at the other end of the room stood like iron bars, locking her inside a cage built of wealth and power.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. Where was she?
Then—a knock.
Sharp. Commanding.
Before she could react, the door swung open.
A tall woman in black stepped inside, her face impassive, her cold gray eyes scanning Serena like a predator inspecting prey.
"Finalmente, sei sveglia." Finally, you’re awake.
The woman’s thick Italian accent curled around the words like silk over steel.
Serena’s throat was dry. "W-where am I?"
The woman arched a brow. "Where you belong."
Serena’s pulse raced. "I don’t belong here—"
"Enough." The woman cut her off with a sharp look. "Come. The boss is waiting."
Her captor.
Serena clenched her hands into fists. Alessio Moretti.
The name sent a shiver down her spine.
She swallowed her fear and followed the woman out, her mind racing with one desperate thought—she had to escape.
---
Flashback: The Night of the Auction
Twelve hours earlier…
Serena had been waiting for her father to come home.
The small apartment was dark, the power cut off again due to unpaid bills. Only a single candle flickered weakly on the old coffee table. She had been curled up on the couch, clutching a threadbare blanket, telling herself that everything would be fine.
But when the knock came at the door—loud, firm, final—she knew deep down that everything was about to change.
Her father opened it, his face pale as ghosts stepped inside.
Men in suits. Dangerous men.
"Please," her father’s voice cracked. "Give me more time."
The tallest man, the one with piercing green eyes, chuckled darkly. "Time is up, old man."
Serena tried to run.
A strong hand snatched her wrist. She gasped.
The scent of something sickly sweet flooded her senses as a cloth pressed over her mouth.
Her father’s scream was the last thing she heard before darkness swallowed her whole.
---
Present: Meeting the Devil
The hallway was endless—cold marble floors, golden chandeliers, walls lined with ancient paintings. A palace of sin.
The woman leading her finally stopped in front of massive double doors.
Serena barely had time to prepare before they swung open.
A monster sat inside.
Alessio Moretti.
The first thing she noticed was his eyes—a shade of green so deep, they looked like emeralds carved from ice. He sat behind a grand wooden desk, swirling a glass of dark liquor, his tailored suit fitting him like a second skin.
He was too beautiful to be human. But his presence? Pure danger.
He didn’t speak. He just watched her.
Serena’s breath hitched, but she refused to look away.
"Sit," he ordered.
Her knees locked, her pulse hammering.
Alessio smirked. "That wasn’t a request."
Something in his voice made her obey. Against her will.
The chair was cold beneath her as she sat across from him.
Alessio leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his gaze predatory.
"You know why you’re here," he said smoothly.
Serena’s nails dug into her palms. "Because my father—"
"Because he failed." Alessio cut her off. His voice was sharp, emotionless. "And now, you will repay his debt."
Her stomach twisted.
"I am not your property," she bit out.
Alessio’s smirk faded.
Before she could react, he was in front of her.
One hand gripped the armrest of her chair, the other tipped her chin up until she was forced to meet his piercing gaze.
"You became mine the second I paid for you," he murmured darkly.
Her pulse pounded.
"You think I’ll just obey you?" she whispered.
Alessio’s gaze flickered to her lips before locking onto her eyes again.
"I don’t need your obedience, Serena," he said, voice low. "Just your submission."
A shiver ran down her spine.
She hated him.
But God help her, she feared him more.
---
The Terms of Her Captivity
Alessio walked back to his desk, setting down his glass of whiskey. He exuded power, dominance—a man who was used to control.
Serena clenched her fists. "What do you want from me?"
Alessio studied her, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "What I want…" He leaned back in his chair. "Is simple."
He tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction.
"You will stay here. You will belong to me."
Serena’s breath caught. "Belong to you?"
"Si, mia cara." Yes, my dear. His voice was like velvet laced with steel.
She shook her head violently. "No. I will never—"
"Did your father not tell you the price of his debt?"
Her blood ran cold.
Alessio’s gaze darkened. "He gambled with the wrong people. He failed to pay. And when he had nothing left to offer…" He smirked cruelly. "He offered you instead."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"My father would never—"
Alessio slid a piece of paper across the desk.
Serena’s hands trembled as she picked it up.
A contract.
Signed in her father’s handwriting.
The words blurred before her eyes. He had sold her.
Bile rose in her throat.
Alessio’s voice was quiet. "You were his last bet. And he lost."
Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she refused to cry.
She lifted her chin. "I don’t care what my father did. I am not some… thing for you to own!"
Alessio smirked. "Oh, but you are, dolcezza." Sweetness.
His voice dipped lower, sending a shiver down her spine.
"And I always collect what’s mine."
- Writer
