Chapter Two – The Devil’s Bargain
970 Words
The basement is colder than I expected.
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The air is damp, heavy with the scent of stone and something metallic. Blood, maybe. I try not to think about it. My bare feet sting against the rough cement as the guards drag me forward, my wrists still cuffed in front of me. My heartbeat slams against my ribs, but I force myself to keep my breathing steady. I can’t show weakness.
A single dim light flickers above, casting eerie shadows along the walls. I swallow the lump in my throat as we stop in front of a thick metal door. One of the guards punches in a code, and with a heavy groan, it swings open.
I barely have time to register what’s inside before they shove me in.
I stumble forward, catching myself against a wooden post in the center of the room. The door slams shut behind me, the sound ringing in my ears. I whirl around, but the guards are already gone.
I’m alone.
Or at least, I think I am.
Then I hear the click of expensive shoes against the floor.
Leo.
I don’t turn around, but I feel him—his presence, thick and suffocating, filling every inch of the space. My fingers curl against the post as his slow, measured footsteps come closer.
“You’re quiet,” he muses, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “No screaming? No begging?”
I grind my teeth. “I don’t beg.”
A dark chuckle. “Oh, you will.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I finally force myself to turn. He’s leaning against the wall, sleeves still rolled up, a cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. The soft glow of the ember casts sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the cruel smirk on his lips.
I cross my arms, the metal cuffs digging into my skin. “If you’re going to torture me, just get it over with.”
His smirk deepens. “Torture? Is that what you think this is?”
I don’t answer.
Leo pushes off the wall and takes a slow step forward. Then another. And another. Until he’s standing right in front of me, his scent wrapping around me like a noose. He lifts a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The touch is deceptively gentle, but I know better.
“I don’t hurt things I plan to keep,” he murmurs.
My stomach clenches. Keep.
I yank my head away. “You don’t own me.”
His fingers trail down my jaw, pausing at my throat. A silent reminder of how easily he could wrap his hand around it, squeeze, take everything away. Instead, he just tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I do now,” he says simply.
Rage burns through me, white-hot and blinding. I act before I can think.
I spit in his face.
A sharp silence falls between us.
Leo doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. He just exhales slowly, wiping the spit off with the back of his hand. Then he looks at me.
And I realize my mistake.
Because he’s smiling.
It’s not amusement. Not even anger. It’s something much worse.
Satisfaction.
Before I can react, his fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back in a sharp, punishing tug. I gasp, my body arching as pain licks along my scalp. He leans in, so close our lips almost brush.
“I like that fire, little dove,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my mouth. “It’ll make breaking you so much more fun.”
My pulse stutters, fear and something darker twisting in my stomach.
He holds me there for a moment, savoring my reaction, before releasing me just as suddenly. I stumble back, panting, my heart slamming against my ribs.
He exhales, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a sudden tension. Then he gestures toward the far end of the room. “Sit.”
I don’t move.
His gaze darkens. “Now.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, debating my options. But in the end, I don’t really have any. So I force myself forward, settling stiffly into the lone chair in the room. Leo follows, moving like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run.
He pulls a key from his pocket, unlocking my cuffs. The metal falls away, leaving red welts on my skin. I rub at them absentmindedly, watching as he takes the seat across from me.
“Let’s make a deal,” he says, lounging back as if we’re in some kind of business negotiation rather than a hostage situation.
I laugh, sharp and bitter. “A deal? What could I possibly have that you want?”
His smirk returns. I hate that smirk.
“Oh, little dove,” he says, leaning forward. “I don’t want something from you. I want you.”
My stomach drops.
He flicks his cigarette into a nearby ashtray, his gaze pinning me in place. “You dug into my business. Poked around where you shouldn’t have. And now, you’re in my world.” He spreads his arms. “That means you have two options.”
I clench my fists, bracing myself.
“One.” He holds up a finger. “I kill you. Simple. Quick. Painless, if I’m feeling generous.”
A chill creeps up my spine.
“Or two.” Another finger. “You stay. You belong to me.”
My breath hitches.
I shake my head. “That’s not a choice.”
His eyes gleam. “Oh, but it is.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing. If I refuse, I die. If I agree...
I don’t know what happens if I agree.
But something tells me death might be kinder.
- Writer
