2. The Devil In The Light
753 Words
The sunlight danced across her face, warm and intrusive.
Sarah’s eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking away the headache that throbbed at the side of her temple. She sat up, groggy, her limbs stiff. The bed beneath her was too soft, the sheets too expensive.
Her heart kicked into overdrive.
This wasn’t her room.
It was dim, with thick curtains shielding most of the light. Just a sliver of sun crept in through the side, enough to show that the walls were deep grey, the furniture dark and minimalist.
Panic set in.
Rufus.
The creep.
The alley.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She bolted upright and ran to the window, flinging the curtain open. But what she saw didn’t match her terror.
A garden. A stunning one—lush and perfectly groomed, stretching out under the morning light like something out of a painting.
Still, it didn’t matter. She was somewhere unknown. Trapped.
She yanked the curtain shut and stumbled toward the door. “Let me out!” she screamed, banging on it with both fists. “Let me out!”
Behind her, a low growl echoed through the room.
Her body froze.
She turned around slowly, chest heaving.
Rufus.
He sat at the corner of the room, calm, clean, his golden coat groomed and his wound dressed. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unreadable.
“You almost got my dog killed.”
A voice—deep, smooth, dangerous.
Footsteps followed.
Sarah looked toward the shadowed part of the room, but saw no one. Not until the curtain beside the window shifted—and a figure stepped into the light.
Her breath hitched.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in all black with an effortless grace that oozed power. Tattoos ran down his muscled arms, swirling like secrets written in ink. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones sculpted, and his eyes…
Deadly.
Like he’d seen war and made it bow to him.
She couldn’t speak.
He crouched beside Rufus, patting the dog’s head affectionately. “Rufus here is my war dog. I’ve had him since I was a kid. We trained together, fought together. You could only imagine the pain I felt when I thought I lost him.”
“You should be thanking me,” Sarah snapped, voice shaking but defiant. “He’s alive because of me.”
“You almost got him killed,” he said, his tone cold and flat.
“I found him at the adoption home… after I lost my parents in a fire. I fed that monster,” she said bitterly. “Please just let me go. I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing.”
He tilted his head. “Rufus… a monster?” A cold chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m surprised he lived under your roof and didn’t tear you apart.”
She swallowed hard, gripping the door handle like it was her lifeline. “Well, you have your dog now. Let me go.”
“No way in hell,” he replied, stepping closer.
Her back hit the door.
“What do you mean, no way?” she breathed.
“Rufus was shot because of you,” he said, voice like ice. “And you’re going to pay.”
He was close now. Too close. Their lips were almost touching, and his scent—dangerous and dark—clouded her thoughts.
She refused to back down. “I don’t believe that’s the only reason I’m here. He’s just a dog. What—have you brought me here to force me to be your wife? I’ve read about people like you. I’ve watched the movies.”
A slow smirk curved his lips. “And what if that’s the reason?” he murmured, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Her breath hitched.
She felt small, like prey. But she lifted her chin.
“You… you don’t know me,” she whispered.
He laughed—low and amused—as he stepped back. “Foolish of you to think I’d ever want a woman like you.”
That one stung.
She exhaled shakily, steadying herself.
He turned serious again, his voice hard. “You will work for me. Until I’m satisfied. You’ll be trained. You’ll see a battlefield. I want to see how you handle a gunshot.”
Her world tilted.
“Trained?” she repeated. “Gunshot?”
“Where is this place? Where am I?”
His smile was cruel now. “Welcome to my world, Sarah.”
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- Writer
