The Debt Collector's Bride

Sera's POV:

  My art room was the only place that was truly mine. It didn't belong to my father. It didn't belong to his enemies. It was far away from the violence that followed him like dark mud.

  Here, everything was calm. The air smelled thick with paint. Soft music played. The white canvas waited for whatever I wanted to make.

  I dipped my brush in blue and moved it across the canvas slowly forming waves, calm waves. The kind of waves that never had screaming or gunshots near them. When I painted, the outside world didn't exist. Or, I tried to make it not exist.

  And suddenly a loud slam came from outside the door. I froze. Another argument, probably. My father always had loud, angry, dangerous business. I tried to look back at my painting. Just breathe, just keep going.... I tell myself.

  Another bang. Harder this time. My heart jumped hard. Before I could put the brush down, the door broke open. Three tall men in black rushed in like a storm. My paint jar fell and blue water splashed all over my legs.

  "What... Who are you?" I stammered, backing up until my spine hit the wall. The closest man stepped forward. "Sera Voss?

  I nodded, shaking.

  "Don't fight," he said. "We don't want to hurt you. He reached for me.

  I slapped his hand away. "Stay back!"

  But another man was already behind me. A black glove covered my mouth before I could scream.

  I kicked and fought, gasping against the leather.

  "Hold her hands," the first man ordered. "Boss wants her alive. No marks." Alive? What do they mean? They grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear anything else.

  "Who sent you?" I forced out when the hand moved away from my mouth.

  The man's black eyes did not blink. "Damien Vescari." That name hit me like a solid punch. Damien.

  I had heard it before, in hushed arguments and behind closed doors. My father's voice, shaking in a way I had never heard, saying, we never cross that man, never.

  A monster. A name that made grown men terrified.

  "No," I whispered. "You have the wrong person. I don't know him. My father..."

  "Your father knows him," the man cut in. "That is the problem."

 I shook my head hard. "Please... stop." He pulled a black cloth from his coat.

  "No," I said, backing away uselessly. "Please don't..." The blindfold went tight over my eyes and darkness swallowed me.

  "Move."

  Strong arms dragged me. My feet hit brushes and broken glass. I cried out when my shoulder hit the door frame.

  "Slow down!" I begged.

  "No time."

  Cold night air hit my skin as they pulled me outside. A car door opened. They lifted me and shoved me inside a dark metal van. No windows, no escape. The door slammed shut. My breath came too fast, too raw.

  "Where are you taking me?" I whispered.

  "To the man you should be most afraid of," one of them said.

  The van lurched forward.

  "Why me?" I choked. "What does he want?"

  The man went silent then laughed coldly. "He wants what was promised."  I shook my head hard. Promised? By my father?

  My voice broke. "I don't know what you mean!"

  "No," the man said. "But he does."

  The van stopped. A door opened and hands yanked me into a place that smelled expensive, cold, and wrong. I hear the footsteps of men... then a quiet voice ordered:

  "Take the blindfold off."

  Light crashed into my eyes and I blinked hard. Then my breath stopped. A man stood in front of me. He was very tall and had dark hair. His eyes were like a storm-sharp and familiar, like they had been waiting for me forever. He didn't smile, he didn't move, he just stared.

  "Hello, Sera," he said, a little bit too soft, too certain.

  I swallowed. "I don't know you. Why did you take me?"

  His gaze dropped to my lips, then came back up to my eyes.

  "You know me," he whispered. "You just don't remember."

  I shook my head. "Let me go."

  "I will," he said. "When your part of the deal is finished."

  "What deal? I don't know what you're talking about"

  "Your father made a deal with me," Damien cut in, his voice hard as steel.

  "Twelve years ago." He added.

  I froze.

  "Twelve... years?"

  A mix of pain, anger, and longing crossed his eyes.

  "Yes, you were promised to me," he said softly.

  "Promised?" I repeated, barely able to breathe.

  His lips twisted into something dark.

  "You will be my wife, Sera."

  The room spun.

  "No," I gasped. "No, I won't-"

  "You already are," he said. "By blood and by vow."

  Before I could scream, a door slammed open behind us. A guard rushed in, bleeding.  

  "Boss," he said urgently. "We found him."

  Damien didn't move. "Who did you find?"

  "Her father. He's at the gate. He's almost dead."

  The ground disappeared from under me.

  "Dad?" I whispered.

  Damien turned to me, his eyes burning with ownership.

  "You'll see him," he promised, stepping closer.

  His voice felt like fire sinking into me.

  "After we are married."