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2024-10-29 19:42:56Related chapters
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. I answer only to him
Reaching back the mansion, Sherry got down to follow right behind Dallion. Before becoming a captive, her hands and time were usually full—working endlessly to make her living, saving every dime so that one day she could use it—Her money! She realized the cash she had been stashing away must still be there unless someone had found it! More than anything right now, Sherry couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened to the money she had saved all those years. It wasn't much, just a good sum of seventeen hundred dollars, but it was the most she'd saved until now. Thinking about how her foster aunt May and uncle Larry had sold her off like a commodity for chump change made her stomach churn. She wondered if sharing a piece of it with them could’ve avoided this, kept her from becoming someone’s property. But then, she shook her head internally—there was no reasoning with scum like that. Her relatives didn’t deserve even a penny from her pocket after what they had done. Who knew peop
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. That's what I like
Nickison, the butler, was making his way from the dining room to the kitchen when he caught sight of Lady Rose doing what she did best—scolding and belittling the workers of the Cross empire. On a second glance, he realized it wasn’t one of the usual servants but Master Dallion’s little mouse, Sherryl Rain. His footsteps faltered. Rose didn’t spare anyone, not even those who weren’t part of the empire. The young mafia queen enjoyed watching the staff cower, asserting her dominance to remind them who held the real power. Even he, a long-standing butler, had not been spared from her biting tongue. After overhearing Sherryl’s defiant words, Nickison pressed his lips together, knowing trouble was brewing. He was well aware that the walls of the mansion were about to shake. "He’s my brother, so you’re indirectly obligated to serve me the same way you serve him," Rose taunted, shoving Sherryl’s head as though she were a toy to be played with. "Didn’t you hear me? Come to my room," she o
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Get in the bed
Before Rose had left Sherry's hand, she'd had a good exchange of words with her step brother which Sherry had really found it... She didn't know how to really term the words, because one was surprisingly angry while the other was really composed. This is how their banter had gone before Rose finally released her. Rose out of anger only turned Sherryl’s arm to another side where the furrow between the captive’s forehead increased. Dallion, noticing this, looked at his butler who was quietly standing by. Raising the rolled-up document, he handed it to him. “Take this to Gray's mansion,” the butler bowed his head, not spending another minute as the order had been given. He walked towards the main doors and away from them. “Let go of her, sister.” Rose tilted her head in curiosity, “Why? She doesn’t even know who the mistress is. She even shows the courage to deflect me.”
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Learn her place
Rose his younger step sister, as she liked to be called—was a fierce opponent. For a split second, Sherryl had believed Rose would snap her arm like a twig, but then Dallion had arrived, saving her from an imminent breaking. Still, grabbing Rose’s hand in reflex had been a mistake—a direct challenge. And now Sherryl was sure she’d made it onto Rose’s personal hit list. As she lay there contemplating her options, her mind drifted to escape plans. She had to get out before it was too late. Two hours, Dallion had said in the car earlier. It was all she needed to flee the city. Maybe she could make it to Cross empire’s neighboring districts, but first, she'd need to be careful, as she bide her time. To he she'll either run to the eastern part of Bone lake into Indiana Valleys or maybe move towards Blue city Somewhere out of his reach. But what about the photo and fingerprints he claimed to
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. you're awake
The girl should have been happy to have a bed to sleep on. A roof over her head to protect herself, unlike the filthy conditions she had been subjected to at the captive establishment. Instead, she was being cheeky, thought Dallion to himself. He had taken her out today to show what life offered to captives in this and other places. Captives were nothing more than tools for the amusement of the higher society. As they were bought with the owner's money, the owner had full control to do anything for their pleasure or entertainment. What Sherryl saw today was merely a glimpse of the dark world she had unwittingly become a part of. Dallion hadn’t brought her on a whim but because he wanted her—wanted to possess her completely—and wouldn’t allow anyone else the privilege of what was his now. Compared to the other captives, she was rather fortunate. And undoubtedly, she would come to appreciate his unique form of kindness, he
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. I'm not deaf
Her mouth had gone dry. Her mind raced with thoughts of what might happen to her next. She realized now that he hadn’t buttoned his shirt yet. She moistened her lips, "There were a few like that." Sherryl had come across many such people in her street, those who had spread untrue rumors, turning others against her and her foster family. Dallion raised a brow, a wicked smile forming on his lips, "Of course. It’s no surprise. The lower class has all the time in the world to gossip, don’t they?" His smile widened, but before Sherryl could voice her opinion, he continued. "There’s not much difference between the lower class and the higher class," Sherryl said, her voice steady despite feeling his finger still resting on her shoulder. It felt like a venomous spider, ready to bite at any moment. "There isn’t," he agreed, surprising her. "Why do you look shocked? We can agree on a few things," he grinned, and for the third time, she noticed the glint of his shiny gun. Was he planning
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. My bad, she's already mine.
In the dining room, Sherryl instinctively sat on the ground after Dallion waved her down. The tension in the air was palpable, especially when her eyes landed on Rose, who glared at her with barely restrained fury. Sherryl didn’t have to look directly at her to feel the heat of that stare. She peeked up and saw Rose’s nostrils flare, still furious about the previous night. "What was all the commotion last night?" Mr Cross asked, looking between his children as he ate his breakfast. He looked at them expectantly, but only Rose met his gaze. Dallion continued eating as if nothing had happened. "Dallion," their father pressed. "Dallion needs to be punished for his blatant disrespect," Flora cut in, her voice sharp. "Not only towards me but towards the rules of this house." "I’m listening. I’m not deaf," Dallion smiled lazily, lifting his head and chewing his food with deliberate ease.As Sherryl sat quietly, her
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Take her back
Dallion's eyes fell on his younger sister, Rose, whose head snapped to turn toward him. Rose rolled her eyes and said, "I am not a captive to be punished. I am a member of this family; you cannot punish me." "Why not? Family or not, we are all taught how to follow rules. Clearly, you haven't understood not to step on the boundaries we have," Dallion said coolly, turning his gaze back to their father. "Don’t you remember that one time, Father, when you punished Grace for not listening to what was told?" Grace, who had been quiet after their stepmother's wrong accusation about her not treating the woman right, looked up from the table. She stared at the wall, remembering what Dallion was speaking of. The memory was as fresh as if it had occurred only hours ago. Both Grace and Dallion were young then. She had brought home a small lost lamb from the forest, even though she wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t t
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The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Body mind and soul
Sherryl’s heart sank like a stone. The word collar clawed at her dignity, and she stiffened, her voice breaking slightly as she replied, "I am not an animal, Dallion." "Then the mark it is," he declared without hesitation. Her widening eyes didn’t faze him. "What? No!" she stepped back, her pulse quickening. But with every step she took, Dallion's gaze grew colder, cutting through her resistance like frost slicing through fragile glass. "Do not test me, Sherryl Rain," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "I’ve told you before, I don’t tolerate defiance. If we were in someone else’s home tonight, you'd be in far worse trouble. Not all men are as... considerate as I am." The weight of his words pressed down on her. Her stomach churned, but her mind couldn’t resist the urge to retort. "Then don’t take me to t
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. something more
"Good evening, Mr. Dallion," greeted the man, his tone formal but laced with an undercurrent of tension. He inclined his head slightly, his well-groomed blonde hair shifting momentarily before settling back into place. "Evening, Jerry Locks," Dallion replied, his casual smile betraying nothing. Sherryl instinctively shifted closer to Dallion, her movements subtle but unmistakable, like a bird seeking shelter from a brewing storm. "Is this your so-called captive?" Jerry Locks asked, his lips curving into a thin, polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "You should be careful about parading her around without a proper tag. It sends the wrong message, like she’s available for... anyone’s attention." Sherryl stiffened at his words, her gut twisting with disgust. She tried to mask her emotions, but the slight curl of her lips betrayed her thoughts. It didn’t matter, though. Jerry Locks noticed. He was the man Dallion'
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Isn't over
As Dallion finished his drink, Alexander's remarks continued to play in his mind, “Changing a captive's mindset after what they endure is no easy task.” His voice carried the weight of experience, as someone deeply familiar with the workings of underground organizations. Though the Cross empire didn’t house its operations near the City, but in the shadows of Bone lake and it's neighbors, Alexander as one of the four strong Mafias, ensured he knew every breath and whisper that echoed through the cities. Dallion inclined his head slightly, understanding the layers of Alexander's words. The torment inflicted to captives in those places didn’t just break bodies—it shattered wills, molding captives into submissive beings who clung to their captors for survival. The fear of rebellion, fueled by the knowledge of inevitable punishment, kept them compliant. Anyone who entered those gates rarely emerged unchanged. The few who resisted either
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. You're impossible
Sherry stood silently behind Dallion, her head tilted slightly downward, avoiding the scrutinizing gazes of the mafia elites. Her presence, while unnoticed by some, still drew lingering whispers among those who couldn’t understand why the Cross Empire’s most feared don had brought along someone so out of place. Meanwhile, Dallion entertained a small group of sycophants, his sharp tongue delivering sarcastic barbs that left no room for retorts. "Mr. Cross, you should consider visiting our new penthouse. Father had it refurbished just last month. Would you be interested in an exclusive tour?" proposed one of the women, her voice laced with obvious admiration. "Why not? Perhaps the next business meeting could be hosted there," Dallion replied smoothly, his smirk disarming yet dripping with mockery. He cast a questioning glance at the others. "What do you all think?" A murmur of agreement ripple
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. I have no idea what your talking about
"I have no idea what you’re talking about, Master Dallion,” Sherry replied, her voice steady, while her heart beat against her chest like a warning bell. She fought to keep her pulse hidden from his sharp eyes, knowing well how closely he was observing her. Dallion’s smile remained unmoved, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes that made her wary of his intentions. He took a step forward, closer than she liked, murmuring, “Shall we retrace the moment that made those cheeks of yours go crimson? You're quite the little mouse, aren’t you? Oh, excuse me, my bad. Big mouse,” he added, his tone mockingly apologetic. “I'm a kind master, after all. Who else would tailor a name specifically for their captive, hmm?” “Could you please avoid calling me that?” She gave a slight frown, finding his words unnervingly odd yet infuriating. She knew he was playing with her, trying to get under her skin. “But didn’t you protest when I called y
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. It's nothing
Sherry shrugged, feigning indifference. “People in power are all the same, they take what they can, whenever they can.” “True,” he murmured, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. “But remember, even those who think they’re untouchable always have someone above them, a bigger fish ready to devour them when they get out of line.” He took another long puff, letting the smoke curl through the cold air. “Master Dallion…” Sherry hesitated before finally asking, “Why did you... why did you decide to buy me?” The question had haunted her since the day she had asked him the very same question, the enigmatic mafia boss with a reputation for ruthlessness. She couldn’t shake the words she'd overheard about his supposed hatred for captives, especially after what had happened to a close friend of his. For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching her as though weighing his response.
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Hand on the wall
Sherryl had never done anything to provoke them, yet the resentment seemed to have deep roots, tangled and hidden in her past. Ever since she was a child, her mere presence was treated like a bad omen. After her father’s abrupt disappearance, she and her mother had been ostracized, left to fend for themselves. All she had wanted back then was to fit in, to be like the other kids, to have friends. But over time, she learned to avoid the stones hurled at her and the cruel words thrown even more viciously. That’s when she stopped trying to be accepted, resigning herself to being an outcast alongside her mother, unwanted and unseen. A faint shuffle drew her attention back inside, where Dallion was standing by the door, his gaze fixed on something in the night sky. "Clearer skies here compared to the city. Must be the lack of traffic and noise," he murmured, his voice soft yet unmistak
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. You've lost that privilege
Hearing the crack and pop sound made Sherryl's eyes snap from looking at the man’s finger, which he now cradled as he collapsed to the floor, his back pressed against the table, whining and grimacing in agony. Sherryl’s gaze shifted from the magistrate to Dallion, who maintained an unnervingly calm demeanor as if he hadn't just inflicted excruciating pain to someone. It seemed that Dallion took particular pleasure in tormenting people's fingers; the sound resonated in the now dim room, where the atmosphere had turned dark and cold. Her heart raced, but it wasn't fear that fueled the rhythm, this time round it was sheer disbelief. With the way Rose had contorted and twisted her arm a week ago, Sherryl had always known that Dark mafias were strong and merciless, but to crush a human's bone with just a few fingers was another matter entirely. It had seemed impossible before, but witnessing it firsthand made her body tremble slightly a
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Consider it you only warning
If the magistrate had thought everything was over and Dallion was just another busy body who had come by to cause ruckus, he was wrong.It was just seconds ago he'd stepped out, but it was also the same seconds he'd used to walk back in.This time Sheryl had walked in with him.After all they were here for the keys to her house.The dim, bluish glow from the neon lights outside was barely able to seep through the windows, shadowing the narrow office. The charged lamp on the desk flickered weakly, its flame dying out as if it too refused to illuminate the grim faces within the room. Dallion glanced at the man before him. whose round belly pressed against his too-tight belt, each movement slightly straining the fabric of his trousers. His thick, fur-lined coat draped over him in an attempt to stave off the creeping cold. It wasn’t the first time Dallion encountered a power-abusing official who grew fat off the backs of struggling communities.
