THE DEAL WITH THE DEVIL'S HEIR

Alicia's POV

I jolted awake, head spinning, every muscle aching as if I'd been dragged through glass. For a moment the room didn't make sense the mattress too soft, the curtains too heavy. Where am I? I asked the empty room.

Then the memory crashed back: the escape, the chase, the face that had caught me. Dante. My chest tightened. Getting away from him felt impossible now; the thought of surviving him felt like a coin with two terrible sides . death or worse.

I pushed myself to my feet and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window. Sunlight etched the silhouette of the city; his wealth, my father had said. Dante wasn't the sort to leave a loose end.

The door clicked open behind me.

He came in wearing a black shirt that accented the breadth of his shoulders. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice casual as if he'd only popped in for coffee.

I folded my arms to hide my trembling. "What do you want from me?" I said, forcing a steadiness I didn't feel.

He chuckled, slow and amused. "Did your parents tell you what your job here is?"

"I don't know whatever agreement you had with my dad, but I'll pay you back. Just let me go-give me time to find the money." My words rushed out. I meant them. I needed them to be real.

He watched me without a flicker of sympathy. Then he laughed - the sound was wrong, a jagged thing that set my teeth on edge. "How much do you think your father owed?" he asked.

"I don't care. I'll pay you back," I said, too proud to beg.

His smirk widened. "There are other ways to pay me back."

He stepped closer until the light caught his face. He was twice my height, an immovable wall. He tipped my chin up with one large hand until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His breath ghosted my mouth.

I shoved him. "What are you doing?"

He smiled like a predator. "What does it seem like, my love?" he murmured.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. The word tasted like bile in my ears. "I am not your-"

"You don't have a choice, darling," he said, voice silk over steel. "You are here to do a job. To carry my child."

I burst out laughing because it felt like the only way to keep from screaming. "I will not carry a monster's child."

The smile on his face turned slow and satisfied. "That's the problem, darling. You don't get to choose." He clamped a hand over my mouth and hauled me in close. Panic clawed up my throat. I bit down hard on his hand. He didn't flinch. If anything, his eyes brightened.

His fingers moved to my neck. I choked and clawed, useless against his strength. He held me while a phone buzzed at his hip; he answered with a single hand, never taking his eyes from me.

"Sir," a voice crackled through his ear. "We found him, but he insists the goods aren't with him."

Dante's eyes flashed like ice. He laughed softly. "Kill him."

A pause. Then the other voice on the line said something low; I couldn't make out every word, but the intention was clear - cruelty measured and deliberate. "Burn them alive. Let him watch. Then kill him."

My stomach dropped. I could hear pleading in the background - a woman's voice cut short by a strangled sob. A metallic sound, a sharp groan - then the report of a single gunshot. The line went still for a heartbeat.

"Done, sir," the voice said. "Now find the rest."

Dante pocketed his phone, his face as calm as a man checking his watch. He loosened his hand from my throat and smoothed his shirt as if straightening a tie. I gasped for air, my lungs burning.

"That will be your fate if you ever disrespect me again," he said, voice cold as frost. Then he walked out of the room as though he'd only gone downstairs for a moment.

I slid down the wall until I was crouched on the floor, the world narrowing to the taste of copper and the pound of my heart. My body shook. I just listened to my ragged breathing, waiting for the next step, the next command.

Then, from far below, something changed. A distant engine hummed. A gate clanged. Voices moved like shadows across the house.

I reached for the phone with hands that barely obeyed. It buzzed on the bedside table a single, sliding vibration. I snatched it up and saw the screen light: a new message from an unknown number.

The text was short.

burns everything.

My fingers went cold. Behind me, on the landing, I heard the slow, heavy thud of footsteps coming up the stairs.