Deal with the devil's heir

Asha's POV

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.                                                                                      I stand in the middle of my room, my hands still trembling, the ink from my signature burning into my memory as if I carved it into my own skin. Damian's voice won't stop replaying in my head.

  You didn't just sign a contract. You signed me into your life. And I don't let go.

He wasn't bluffing. I know power when I see it. I've lived in its shadow my entire life-my father's empire, the boardrooms, the politics. But Damian... he's different. He doesn't just hold power, he is power. The kind that breathes down your neck and makes your blood turn cold.

                                                                                  And I gave myself to him.

A knock at my door pulls me out of my spiral. My father steps in, his presence heavy as always. Robert Montero-business tycoon, king in his world. But tonight, even he looks unsettled. His hair is slightly undone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharper than usual.

"You signed it." His tone isn't a question. It's an accusation.

I don't bother denying it. "I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice, Asha," he snaps, pacing across the room. "Damian thinks he can use you to choke me? He's wrong. I'll get us out of this. I swear it."

I bite back the bitterness rising in my chest. "You don't understand. He's not like the others, Dad. He doesn't bluff. He doesn't threaten. He delivers.''

His fists clench. "Then I'll deliver harder."

 I almost laugh, except nothing about this is funny. "You don't see it, do you? You may have built an empire, but Damian built fear. And fear doesn't crumble when you push back-it spreads."

My father doesn't answer. His silence says enough. He knows I'm right, but he'll never admit it. Not to me. Not to himself.

Before I can press further, the heavy sound of boots echoes down the hall. I freeze. My father straightens, his hand instinctively brushing the inside of his jacket where I know he keeps a weapon.

The door bursts open. Two men in black suits step inside, their presence suffocating the air. Damian's guards.

"Asha Montero," one says flatly. "You're coming with us."

My father steps forward, fury blazing. "She's not going anywhere."

The guard doesn't flinch. "Orders from Mr. Damian Hale."

That name-the way they say it, cold, absolute-makes my stomach twist.

"No," I snap, shaking my head. "I'm not leaving. Not like this."

"You signed," the guard replies, as if that explains everything. And maybe it does.

My father's voice roars through the room. "Over my dead body."

The guards don't even look at him. One steps forward, reaching for my arm. I yank it back, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You can't just drag me away like some-some possession!"

The guard's grip tightens. "You belong to him now."

Those words slice deeper than chains ever could.

My father shouts again, but I barely hear him. The sound of my own blood rushing through my ears drowns everything else out. Before I know it, they're leading me out, my protests falling useless against their iron grip.

By the time I'm shoved into the sleek black car waiting outside, my world feels smaller, darker.

And then the door opens.

He's there. Damian. Sitting like he owns the night itself, his gaze fixed on me the moment I'm pushed inside.

"Comfortable?" His tone is smooth, mocking, as if he already knows the answer.

"Go to hell," I bite out, crossing my arms.

His smirk curves slow and dangerous. "Sweetheart, I don't go to hell. Hell comes to me."

I glare, refusing to let him see the fear crawling beneath my skin. "You think you can take me away from my life, my family, just because of a contract?"

"I don't think," he says, leaning closer until the space between us feels like a trap. "I know."

"You're a monster."

"Maybe," he murmurs, his eyes burning into mine. "But I'm the monster you signed for."

I shake my head, fury and panic tangling in my chest. "My father will fight you. He won't stop until he gets me back."

Damian's smirk deepens, cold and certain. "That's exactly what I'm counting on."

The car lurches forward, carrying me away from everything I know. And as his words sink into me, I realize the truth.

This isn't just about revenge. This is about war.

And I've just become the prize.