The air in Avery's apartment was thick with silence. No sirens. No chatter. Only the tick of the clock on the wall and the hollow sound of her breathing.
She hadn't changed out of her clothes from the bar. Her coat lay forgotten on the couch, soaked with rain, while she sat on the edge of her bed, unmoving—heart still echoing with the encounter.
Dante Harlan had said yes.
Not out of kindness. Not even interest. Just a cold calculation, as if agreeing to her bargain was no more significant than flicking ash from a cigarette.
Still, she had what she needed. A chance.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the paper he'd handed her at the bar. The address was scrawled in sharp, neat letters — like everything about him, precise and merciless.
Then her phone buzzed.
One new message. Unknown number.
"The address. Don't be late. If you waste my time, there won't be a second invitation."
No greeting. No name. Just pure, controlled threat disguised as indifference.
She exhaled slowly, nerves prickling beneath her skin.
He didn't care whether she came or not. That was the terrifying part. To him, she wasn't a girl with a sick brother or a shattered past — she was just a piece on his board. Replaceable. Disposable.
And yet... she mattered to someone. Ethan.
So she stood up.
She would go. Not because he summoned her, but because her future—and her brother's life—now walked the line between mercy and damnation.
The devil had opened his gates.
And Avery Quinn was stepping through.
The address led her to the outskirts of the city—far past the flashing neon streets and into a part of town where even the wind felt like it carried secrets. She sat in the back of a cab, staring out through the window as the buildings thinned into silence.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, hesitated. "You sure this is where you're headed?"
Avery nodded. "Yeah."
He didn't ask anything else. Just kept driving until the road twisted up a steep hill, trees crowding in like watchful figures on either side.
Then she saw it.
Dante's estate rose from the earth like something ancient and forgotten—tall, dark stone, with windows like eyes that had seen too much. A heavy iron gate loomed in front, untouched by rust, marked with a single emblem: a serpent curled around a sword.
The cab didn't go past the gate.
"End of the line," the driver muttered.
Avery stepped out, clutching her coat around her as the wind caught her hair. The gate creaked open on its own, slowly—too slowly. As if the house itself were considering her, sizing her up.
The walkway stretched like a dare. She walked it anyway.
By the time she reached the door, it had already opened.
No one greeted her.
No sound.
Just that same, still pressure in the air—as if the house itself was holding its breath.
She stepped inside.
Dark marble floors. A vast, hollow foyer. No warmth. No welcome.
And then—
A voice, behind her. Quiet. Precise.
"You're on time. I'm surprised."
She turned.
Dante.
He leaned against the frame of a doorway, arms crossed, black shirt rolled at the sleeves. His expression unreadable. His presence—cutthroat.
"I figured you'd flinch before walking through hell," he said, stepping forward.
Avery swallowed the tension in her throat. "I didn't come to flinch."
"Good," he said flatly. "Because the terms don't favor the weak."
Avery's boots echoed across the marble as she followed him. Dante didn't look back. He walked with the confidence of someone who owned not just the house—but every moment inside it.
They moved through a hallway lit by low sconces, walls lined with shadowy paintings. No faces. Just abstract, violent strokes. It felt like walking through someone's restrained madness.
Finally, they stepped into a room. It wasn't an office. Not a study. Just a space with tall windows, a fireplace, and one chair—where he sat.
She remained standing.
He leaned back, legs stretched, fingers steepled together. Silence settled between them.
Then: "You want power," he said. "You want wealth. Protection. Leverage." His gaze flicked to her face. "But none of that is free."
"I know."
He studied her. "Do you?"
Avery clenched her hands. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
"You'd be surprised how many people walk into hell thinking they can bargain with their hearts still intact." His voice was colder now. "They offer what they think is valuable. Their soul. Their service. Their loyalty. I don't want any of that."
She blinked, thrown. "Then what do you want?"
A pause. Then his voice cut the air.
"You."
The word hung like a blade.
Not a compliment. Not desire.
A claim.
"You," he repeated, "as a pawn. A symbol. A weapon. Something I can shape and use."
He stood, slowly, approaching her like a shadow.
"If you agree, you're mine. Not because I crave you, but because I need a tool the world won't see coming. You'll be polished. Mended. Broken. Rebuilt. And if you break on the way…" He smiled without warmth. "I'll find another."
Avery's breath caught. She felt her heartbeat in her throat—but she didn't look away.
"And if I agree?" she asked.
"Then you'll have your power," he said. "And your brother will live."
A beat.
"But I won't promise you'll survive what it costs."
The silence that followed his last words wasn't empty—it was suffocating. Avery's lungs felt tight, her pulse loud in her ears. But she didn't flinch. Not yet.
Dante circled her, slow, unhurried, like a predator studying something beneath him. His voice came again, smooth and precise:
"My terms."
He stopped behind her, close enough that she could feel the shift in the air, the heat of him like a silent threat.
"First—your obedience. When I say move, you move. When I say disappear, you vanish. You don't question me. You don't hesitate. If you do, the deal breaks."
She nodded once, but he wasn't done.
"Second—you'll live under my protection, but also under my control. You'll eat where I tell you. Sleep where I tell you. Work for what I ask. Not as a servant… but as an asset. Everything about you will change."
Avery's hands curled slightly at her sides.
He stepped to face her again, eyes fathomless.
"Third—loyalty. You don't speak to outsiders. You don't confide in anyone. If I find out you've shared anything about me, your brother dies."
Her breath hitched.
Dante tilted his head slightly. "Still think this is about some romantic pact with the devil? This isn't love, Avery. This is war. And you've chosen to play for my side."
"And what do I get in return?" she whispered, voice tight.
He watched her for a long moment, then said:
"Access. Resources. My name as a shield. And immunity from every enemy that's hunted your family into the ground." His eyes flicked down to her. "You'll be untouchable, as long as you belong to me."
Avery felt the floor tilt beneath her, even though her feet didn't move.
"You'll give me power," she said slowly, as if trying to ground herself in the promise. "And I'll be yours to command."
"No," he said, voice like ice.
"You'll be mine to own."