His Dark Desire: The Devil’s Bride

Bella’s POV

The loud pounding on my windshield cut through my sleep like a gunshot.

My eyes flew open, my heart slamming against my ribs. For a second I didn’t even know where I was—just the cold glass, the smell of my own breath, and the ache in my neck from sleeping upright.

“You can’t park here, ma’am. Move.”

A flashlight beam sliced across my face.

I jerked back, squinting until the shape in front of me became clearer—a stern-looking security guard, tall, broad, tapping his knuckles against the windshield again.

His hand rested a little too close to the baton hanging from his belt, and that alone sent fear rushing through my chest.

I sat up straight, my fingers trembling around the steering wheel.

“Sorry… I’m sorry,” I mumbled as I quickly turned on the ignition.

The guard stepped back, shaking his head like he was tired of seeing people like me—sleeping in cars, parked where we weren’t supposed to be, looking like a mess.

Heat crept up my throat. God. Look at me.

Then it hit me.

The memory of last night, my brother’s voice on the phone, the way he said I should pack my things, I’m coming home.

Home. That sounded nice.

I tightened my hold on the wheel, breath shaking out of me. I couldn’t stay parked here anyway waiting for him to come.

Not when my chest felt like it was caving in. Not when everything was pushing me toward a place I didn’t want to go but had to face.

Micah’s house.

The place I once pretended was mine.

I pulled out of the empty parking lot, the early morning sky still grey, streets half-asleep as I drove. Every mile closer made my stomach twist tighter. I tried to swallow the feeling down but it sat heavy, thick and refused to move.

By the time my car rolled to a stop in front of the house, a soft groan escaped my lips. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see them. But I needed my things.

I forced myself out of the car, my legs weak, my heart pounding like a trapped animal fighting for its life.

I walked up the path I’d walked a hundred times before, but today it felt wrong, colder somehow.

My knuckles barely brushed the door when it swung open.

And there she was.

Stacy.

Her face looked like someone had punched her with guilt. Sadness. Confusion. All of it smashed together in a way that made my stomach turn.

“Bella!” she breathed.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharp enough to cut.

She opened her mouth—probably to explain, probably to say something useless—but I shut her down with a glare.

“You know what? Don’t answer that. I just want to get my things.”

“Bella, please. Can we talk? This isn’t how I wanted things to go.” Stacy said, not moving from the doorway.

“You and I have nothing to talk about.” I groaned bitterly.

I pushed past her, my boots hitting the hardwood floor louder than usual, like the house itself knew I was angry.

I took the stairs two at a time, my throat burning.

When I entered the room, Micah was sitting on the bed, looking like a little boy caught doing something terrible. His eyes went wide.

“Bella, baby you’re here,” he said sharply.

I didn’t even flinch. I grabbed my suitcase from the corner, yanking it open and shoving clothes inside with no care, no folding, nothing. Just pure frustration.

“Bella, I’ve been so worried about you,” he whispered. “What….what are you doing?” He stuttered when he noticed I was packing.

“I’m leaving,” I said flatly. “I’m going home.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Home? What home is that? You don’t have a home or money. You’re working as a waitress. Where exactly do you think you’ll go?”

I froze for half a second. Then the anger hit.

“What do you want me to do, Micah? Stay here? Pretend none of this happened? Pretend I didn’t catch you screwing my friend?” I snapped, already turning away and dragging my suitcase down the stairs.

He stood up fast and followed me down the stairs.

“Bella, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Save it,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

I stormed past him, past Stacy, straight to the door. I needed air. I needed out.

“Bella, listen,” Micah said desperately. “You can’t go. This is madness. We can talk about this.”

“The only madness is you expecting me to stay while pretending you didn’t cheat on me.”

“I get it. You’re upset.” He sighed, looked around as if searching for something. “But if you’re going to leave…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “…take this. Use it for now, and when you calm down, we can talk.”

He pressed the money into my palm and grinned like he was doing me a favourite. I looked at the money like an insult, then I pushed it back into his hand like it was poison.

“Keep it. I don’t want your pity.”

And then—

As if the universe decided to give me one break today— a row of sleek black cars rolled to a stop in front of the house.

Relief washed through me so hard my knees almost buckled. I already knew who it was, before they even showed their face.

Stacy and Micah both stared, frozen.

The door opened, and out stepped Rafael Mendoza.

Calm. Confident. Sharp suit. His hair fell perfectly over his forehead. His eyes locked on me immediately, reading everything I couldn’t say.

He walked over and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“Glad you’ve finally come to your senses, little sister.”

Silence exploded between all of us.

Micah’s jaw dropped.

Stacy’s eyes almost fell out of her head.

“Little sister?” Micah croaked.

“That’s Rafael Mendoza,” Stacy whispered. “The son of that billionaire business mogul we saw on TV last night.”

Rafael gave me a gentle smile, that familiar smirk creeping onto his face.

Micah snapped, “Who’s this, Bella? And why the hell is he calling you his sister?”

“You don’t get to ask me anything,” I said without looking back.

“She doesn’t have to answer to you,” Rafael added, his voice sharp.

He stepped forward, motioned his men to take my bags from my hand with one easy motion.

And then stretched his hand out. I placed mine in his. “Let’s go, Sis.” He smirked.

I walked toward the black car. The door opened for me and I slid into the leather seat. The engine growled beneath us, powerful and loud.

Behind me, Micah’s voice cracked with desperation.

“Bella! Come on, what the fuck is this? Bella!”

I rolled the window up slowly and his voice faded behind the glass.

“Bella! Bella! Come back here!”

I stared forward, my eyes on the road ahead.

“Goodbye, Micah,” I whispered. “I’m so done with you.”