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Find her now

Author: Cra4writes
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-16 12:29:16

Dallion had just wrapped up a tense meeting with one of the magistrates from two towns over about a pending case on one of their Mafia who had a pending case. He had made sure the magistrate had understood him clearly and there was no way the old magistrate was going to act against him.

He leaned back in his black luxury sedan, the vehicle slicing through the night with its tinted windows concealing him from the world outside. Rain pounded mercilessly against the car, not the gentle, soothing kind, but like a strong and a fierce downpour that seemed to fall straight from the depths of hell. The slick, wet streets reflected the streetlights like shattered glass.

In the front seat, his driver wore a black leather jacket, collar raised high to protect his neck from the biting cold. His eyes, hidden behind dark aviators, flicked from side to side as he navigated through the rain-soaked streets. Every raindrop that hit the windshield was wiped away with mechanical precision, but the storm seemed relentless, never giving them a moment’s peace.

Dallion’s icy-blue eyes watched the city pass by through the slightly cracked window, the world distorted by the rain. His mind wasn’t in the meeting that he'd just concluded, nor the threats that had been exchanged. It was on something else. Someone else. A smile tugged at his lips—a cruel, knowing smile—as the image of jade-green eyes and a defiant smirk appeared in his thoughts. She had an umbrella that day, standing out in the rain like she wasn’t afraid of a thing. The memory of that figure stirred something dark and unfamiliar in him. That he didn’t seem to like it even a bit.

As they turned off the main road and approached the entrance to his sprawling estate, the car's tires crunched over the wet gravel. The electric gates slid open as if the storm couldn’t touch them. Inside the compound, men in black suits moved in silence, their faces unreadable, their eyes following Dallion's car with unflinching respect.

The car came to a stop under the covered entrance of the mansion. Before the car door could fully open, one of the guards in a black trench coat had his umbrella ready, shielding Dallion from the rain. Dallion stepped out, his Italian leather shoes clicking against the wet pavement. His sharp suit remained dry, thanks to the efficient guard. He didn’t even spare the man a glance.

"How's the weather treating you, Raven?" Dallion asked, his voice a deep, calm rumble as he walked towards the front steps.

The guard stiffened slightly but responded without hesitation. "It's cold, boss."

"Is that all?" Dallion’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained neutral. He glanced back at his car. "You didn’t check the horses."

Raven’s pulse quickened, knowing full well Dallion wasn't talking about any real horses. His ‘horses’ referred to the precious fleet of cars they maintained, each one of the cars was as valuable as a life in Dallion's twisted world. And Dallion had a way of making sure everyone paid the price for negligence.

"Apologies, boss. I’ll handle it immediately," Raven said, bowing his head.

Dallion gave a brief nod before walking up the marble steps into the mansion, where his butler, Nickison, waited at the door. His coat was taken swiftly, and as he entered, a familiar figure emerged from the grand staircase.

Rose, his younger step-sister, stood at the top of the stairs, her black dress a sharp contrast to her fair skin and platinum blonde hair tied in high twin pigtails. She was seventeen but she was already vicious enough to make grown men shiver. Her smile was a weapon she wielded effortlessly.

“Did everything go well, big brother?” Rose asked sweetly, her voice dripping with false innocence.

Dallion didn’t bother with pleasantries. “You look ridiculous with that hair. Cut it off before I have someone do it for you.”

Rose’s smile faltered for only a second before she composed herself, the venom slowly seeping into her eyes. “You’re always so charming. It wouldn’t kill you to say something nice to me, you know.”

Nickison, who was standing nearby, swallowed nervously, he did not want to be part of this exchange. He knew better than to get caught in the middle of their sibling rivalry—one that often ended with someone especially the bystanders like him and the maids in the hospital. Or worse killed.

Dallion tilted his head slightly, his expression devoid of any warmth. “You being nice? When was that, Nickison? I don’t remember such a day.”

Nickison, caught off guard, stiffened. “I… I’m not sure, sir.”

Rose’s glare shifted towards Nickison, but he quickly bowed his head, pretending not to notice. Dallion smirked, enjoying the tension.

“You’re such a child, Rose,” Dallion muttered, stepping forward. “Grow up before you become a liability.”

Her eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, she smirked—a dangerous glint in her eyes. “By the way, Grace’s been snooping around in the attic. With that little mouse of yours.”

Dallion stopped dead in his tracks, his entire demeanor shifting into something darker. A slow, menacing smile spread across Rose’s face as she watched the flicker of anger in her brother’s cold eyes. Nickison froze, knowing this was about to turn ugly.

“Grace wouldn’t dare,” Dallion said, his voice low, dangerous.

Rose shrugged, walking past him with an exaggerated sway in her hips. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m sure she’d love to explain what your little mouse has been up to.”

With that, Rose disappeared down the hall, leaving Dallion standing in the grand foyer, his mind ticking. Nickison, ever the observant butler, could see the tension mounting in Dallion’s frame.

“Nickison,” Dallion said, his voice eerily calm.

“Yes, sir?” Nickison asked, already dreading the answer, this wasn't right in any way.

“Find Grace. Now.”

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Art of seduction

    "Alright," came Sherryl Rain's answer, which Dallion couldn't help but raise his brow at. Had the matter been so worrisome that she wanted him to go talk to his sister, the one who had kicked and shamed her in public? Just remembering it, he could feel his blood begin to boil. She scrambled on the bed, pushing the pillow that was in the way to hear and see Dallion raise his hand. "Wait," he said, scooting closer to the center of the bed. He fluffed some more pillows around him. Once he was seated comfortably, his legs stretched long on the bed without crossing them, he saw her move closer to him. One second at a time. Sherryl Rain had agreed to his deal without truly processing what it actually was. But after taking in his simple words, she took a deep breath and moved towards him. The bed was soft enough to have her knees sink deep into it, which almost made her stumble, only for Dallion to catch her hand. "I must say, I haven't seen this worst way of seducing anyone until no

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   initiate a kiss.

    Today the dining room was quiet, not the kind of quiet that soothed anyone but the kind of guilt that scraped against the walls of cross empire.Dallion pulled the chair beside his,tapped it once, and Sheryl sat, this time it wasnot on the cold marble floor she was used to,but beside him, where dignity still dared to breathe.Grace lowered her gaze.His stepmother stirred her glass too long.And his father... just watched,like a man too tired to show his cruelty.Only Rosie’s seat sat empty. She didn't show up for breakfast .Sheryl’s arms were covered in scars that were in deep red, the doctor had given her ointment and was sure it would work pretty fast on her skin.Still, Dallion could feel her stiffness,like she was waiting for a command.Or a slap.Dallion didn't bother with anyone else at the table, he kept giving meals to Sheryl and keenly watched her eat just like his little muse.After her last bite, he rose.She followed without being told.Down the hall, past the p

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Bad Dreams

    With Dallion having left the hall and gone back to his room, Lady Fleurance rushed to her daughter’s side. Grace Cross followed her stepmother, stepping close to the chair where her younger sister sat, unmoving, staring into a void of nothing. She looked wrecked—utterly blank. Blood still trickled down from her mouth, staining the front of her designer blouse, crimson against silk. Her upper jaw was visibly marred, the skin there was pale and drying. Lady Fleurance bent down and picked up the bloody teeth that had been torn from her daughter’s mouth, her fingers trembling. “Rosie?” Her voice cracked, too gentle for the weight in the air. She moved to untie the ropes around her daughter’s wrists, the knots still tight around the arms of the chair. When Grace stepped forward to help, her hands raised, Lady Fleurance snapped, “Stop!” The voice cut clean through the tension, sharp and sudden. “Don’t even think of touching her. You and your brother planned this, didn’t you? You

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   her mouth bled

    Rose had been warned—and it wasn’t the first time the warning had come down hard on her. Again and again, she had mocked it. Taunted. Dismissed. And now, she had no one to blame but herself. “Would you be kind enough to get the ropes from the attic room,” Dallion said coldly to his sister. Grace Cross—the eldest daughter—stood unsure for a second. Should she wait? Should someone else speak up? But silence pressed down like a loaded pistol on the back of her neck. No protest came. “Yes,” she finally answered. Grace sitting in the chair—cast a final look at the trembling girl and then turned away, her heels echoing down the corridor as she headed toward the attic. Rose looked up at Dallion, eyes wide in alarm. “What are you planning to do?” she asked, her voice cracking just slightly. As Grace Cross walked toward the attic, a weight settled over her chest. She wasn’t stupid—she knew what was about to happen. And yet, no one—not even she—had expected it to escalate like this

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   you'll regret this

    The street was quieter than usual, too quiet for a place that fed on sin.Dallion paused by the rusted sign swinging above, its letters faded like the truths buried in this city.He wasn’t planning to step in. Not today.But something pulled at him—some whisper stitched into the air.And when he opened that crooked door, it wasn’t desire that greeted him.It was death.The metallic scent of blood greeted him like an old friend, curling into his nose.There, under the dim red lights, Bathsheba sat slouched, her body was trembling, lips cracked in a smile meant only for ghosts.Clutched in her hand was a blood-stained note."He left this," she whispered."Sheryl’s father... they shot him. He never had a chance to meet her as planned."Then her eyes dimmed, and she fell still—like the silence had come to collect its due.Dallion's guards buried Bathsheba beneath the weeping fig, there were;No hymns. No farewells. Just dirt on bloodied laceand the wind carrying her name into nothing.Sh

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   lucky

    Feeling the soft mattress under the palm of her hands, she sighed. No slave would have the luxury she was having right now. She wasn't an idiot to not understand. While many girls trapped in the underworld trade were mistreated, her life was far better. It only made her question if she was really a slave. Then again, Dallion had threatened her long ago that he would hunt and find her if she were to ever run away from him—but was that really necessary? She was an average woman, where he was a man carved out of the Cross empire's deadliest bloodline. Some of the girls would consider themselves to be lucky. To have caught the eye of a kingpin from the higher society, as they would have the fortune of living like a queen. Then there was another kind who called it a curse, women who hated and feared the entire existence of men like him. Sherryl Rain didn't belong in any of them. Her initial plan of escaping had been washed away with the reveal of her being the daughter of a wanted spy

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