Sold To The Devil

Chapter One: Sold to the Devil

Emma's POV

The air was stifling, heavy with smoke and the sharp tang of alcohol. My wrists burned where the rope bit into my skin, and every instinct screamed at me to run. But there was nowhere to go. The room was packed with men whose eyes slithered over me like snakes—calculating, cold, predatory.

I swallowed hard and forced the lump down my throat. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

"She's the payment," a voice like gravel said from behind me. Those words cut through the haze of noise and fear, and I straightened.

Payment-that's what I was now: something noto pay off a debt I had never incurred. A life for money I never saw.

"You expect me to take this?" a deeper, smoother voice replied. Cold, and it sent the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

For reasons that eluded me, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Behind me, the man stammered frantically, "S-she's worth it, I swear! She'll do whatever you want. Just… take her and call it even.

My stomach churned violently. I felt my knees weaken, threatening to give way, but I locked them in place. I couldn’t show weakness. Not here.

Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate. Each step felt like the countdown to something I wasn’t prepared for.

“Look at me,” the smooth voice commanded, cold and unyielding.

I froze; my breath caught in my throat. When I didn't respond, a hand grasped my chin and jerked my face upward.

Our eyes met, and the world seemed to tilt.

He was tall, inked in a tailored black suit that clung to his broad shoulders. Sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes, and an aura screaming power-he looked like a devil wrapped in elegance.

His eyes didn't let mine go, and for the first time in my life, I knew what the word predator meant.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, yet each word fell like a ton of bricks, leaving no room for disobedience.

"Emma," I whispered, barely heard.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he tried to read more than just my name. "Emma," he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue like a verdict.

I hadn't realised I was shaking until his gaze flicked down to my trembling hands. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," I lied.

The corner of his mouth arced upward, but it wasn't a smile. "Good. Fear makes people weak. And weak things break.

My chest tightened at his words, but I didn't look away. Something dark flickered in his gaze, and for an instant, I felt he'd caught the stubborn resolve I was working to conceal.

"Bring her to my car," he ordered, his tone final.

Turning on his heel, he strode away with all the confidence of a man who had never learned to question whether anyone would obey his orders.

I didn't budge. My feet were glued to the floor, my mind screaming for me to run even while knowing it was impossible.

"Move!" The man behind gave a push forward, but his hold faltered as I turned to glare at him.

The look I gave him wasn't one of defiance; it was something deeper. A quiet, burning rage.

For a moment, he faltered, the bravado flickering out like a dying flame.

Alex-because by now I knew his name, if only spoken in hushed whispers by the men around us-paused at the door. Slowly, he turned, his sharp gaze locking onto me once more.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he'd caught sight of something that hadn't been there before.

"Get her in the car," he repeated, his voice cool but threaded with a note of finality.

The man clutching my arm grumbled something beneath his breath as he dragged me from the night air. The chill slapped against my skin, but had little effect at dampening the tempest brewing inside.

The sleek, black car hunched at the curb was as cool and forbidding as he himself was.

Alex opened the door, his movements languid, deliberate, his gaze never once leaving mine. Something in his eyes had changed-a spark of curiosity, or suspicion.

I slid into the car, my body trembling as I sank into the leather seat. Alex followed, slamming the door shut with a loud thud.

The silence inside the car was thick.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I didn’t answer. My eyes were glued to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white.

Alex leaned back in his seat, his piercing gaze never wavering. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

His words were a promise, one that made my heart pound against my ribs.

The car slowed as we approached a giant iron gate. It creaked open, showing an estate steeped in shadow and silence.

"You don't understand what you've been dragged into," Alex said in a low, ominous voice. "But you will."

The car surged forward, and the gates shut behind us with a heavy, final clang.

In that instant, as the walls of the mansion closed in, I knew two things:

First, I was trapped.

And secondly, Alex hadn't chosen me by chance.