The Devil's Game

CHAPTER 3

.....

The cool night air hit her like a shock when she stepped outside, the city’s pulse thrumming in the distance. She kept her head down, blending into the crowd of pedestrians moving down the sidewalk.

Her heart pounded fiercely in joy as she made her way down the street, her lips threatening to split apart from the urge to smile.

She had done it. She'd escaped. While a guard had seen her in the end, they hadn't been able to stop her before she scaled the wall. But it was alright. The train ticket should throw her father off her tail for at least a day.

She walked quickly and pushed her way into the first phone booth she found.

She had planned to walk until she found one, but with the weather being in the middle of winter, the night was far too cold for it, hence she had hailed a taxi and drove for almost an hour before getting to where she was.

Fingers trembling, she dialed the only person she felt she could trust. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

"Hello?" Sarah, her best friend, answered.

"Hi. Sarah, it's Ayra calling."

“What? Ayra? Is everything okay?”

Ayra took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to get out of the city. Can you help me?”

"What? Wait, Why?"

"Just... I'll explain later. I just need your help."

"Alright, where are you? I'll come pick you up."

Ayra searched the street and found a sign not far from her.

"Winston Street. I'm in the phone booth right now."

"Alright. Just sit tight. I'll be there in... Thirty minutes tops."

"Thank you."

Ayra hung up and sighed.

Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the booth.

"That call was a bad choice. Not the call itself but who you called," the stranger said.

While she was unable to see the person clearly through the frosted glass, she would recognize the voice anywhere. It was her father.

The first plan is done.

She always knew Sarah was a b***h.

The sleek black car hummed quietly as it sped along the highway, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across Ayra’s face.

She sat stiffly in the backseat, her arms crossed tightly, eyes staring blankly out the window. Her father sat beside her, his face set in a stern, unreadable expression.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken anger and confusion.

“I don’t understand why you did this,” her father finally broke the silence, his voice low and filled with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what you’ve risked? What you’ve put at stake?”

Ayra didn’t respond at first. She continued staring out of the window, her heart pounding as she tried to contain her emotions.

She clenched her fists in her lap, her knuckles turning white as a mix of shame and frustration churned in her gut. Getting caught was all part of her plan, yes, but confronting her father was still decidedly uncomfortable.

She thought it would be Lisbeth who would come. At least then she could gladly insult her to her face and dare her to do her worst.

“You have always been impulsive,” he continued, his tone a mix of disappointment and resignation. “But this?

Running away from your responsibilities like some spoiled child?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I raised you better than this, Ayra.”

At that, her temper flared. Her head snapped toward him, eyes all but burning with anger. “You didn’t - ” she cut herself off, her voice trembling with fury. “You controlled me. This... this whole arrangement isn’t about responsibility. It’s about power. Your power. You practically sold me to him.”

Her father’s jaw clenched, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "You signed the contract, Ayra. You agreed."

Ayra’s eyes blazed with anger. "You all but forced me to sign it! You might as well have tricked me! If you cared, you would let me run away and avoid this!"

“I secured your future, Ayra. Do you know how many people would kill for an alliance with someone like Lucian? And you think you’re above this? Above what your family needs from you?”

Ayra swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her skin prickling with frustration. “What about what I need? What do I want?” she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with desperation.

Oh, how she wanted him to just pull an April Fool's or something. She did not want to believe that her father had changed so much. “I don’t want this.”

“You have no choice,” he said sharply, his voice final and angry. “You will marry Lucian, and you will do what’s expected of you. You will stop these childish rebellions before you make things worse for yourself. The wedding will happen, and you will smile and play the part, like I raised you to do.”

Ayra looked away, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to hold back a sob.

"You didn't raise me," she said quietly, staring at him from out of the corner of her eye. She didn't know what pained her more - seeing her father wilt under the statement or knowing that she cared at all that he wilted.

“That’s enough, Ayra," he said, his voice resigned and low. "You’ll marry Lucian, and that's final. You won’t get another chance to run. Not from him.”

Ayra held back a small smirk. Oh, she would get another chance. Of that she was certain. Her plan was yet to be completed after all.

The car pulled up to the mansion gates, the iron doors creaking open as they approached.