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Take her back
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2024-10-29 12:32:40Dallion'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 glint in Dallion’s eyes dimmed, a lop-sided smile playing on his lips. "The thought of celebrating someone’s birth is only endearing when they are still alive." This was the time of year Dallion hated the most. Changing the subject back, he lifted his chin. "Don't you think Rose is being spoiled unnecessarily?" "She must have taken it from you," Mr Cross's lips twisted slightly as he picked up the glass of whiskey placed for him, taking a slow sip. "Touche. But at least I don’t threaten to break arms for every little thing. You need to keep an eye on her. You never know what she might pull next." His father nodded in agreement but didn’t voice it at first. "I’m aware of her tendencies," He placed his hand under his chin. "Sometimes, I wonder if it’s because she feels left out, being the youngest. It does worry me." "I’ll happily take the task of beating the brattiness out of her," the
Last Updated : 2024-10-30The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Sheryl love
Dallion turned around to face her, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Lovely? You should have seen her tear through her enemies like a wolf through prey." He smirked at the shock on her face. "Did you think she was kind?" His laugh was dark, sending a chill through her. Sherry remained silent. "Oh, my little mouse," Dallion’s lips curled into a wicked smile, eyes twinkling with amusement. "I take after my mother. She was beautiful, maybe kind to her children, but you know how I am. Grace takes after our father, but I... I inherited all of my mother’s traits, while sweet Rose has taken after her own mother." Sherry had no words. Her mind reeled at the image of Dallion’s mother, a woman who could tear people apart. She followed him cautiously, aware that there was more lurking beneath his surface. "Don’t judge by appearances," he lectured her, his tone turning condescending. "Learn to look beyond the facade. Use your brain, l
Last Updated : 2024-10-31The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. you'd be surprised
Once she was up, Sherryl started to balance herself on the branch, which felt weak and shaky. After a few nervous adjustments, she stretched, reaching out to the fruit Dallion had pointed out earlier. Just as she balanced herself, the branch above her, where she had been holding on, snapped into her hand. For a fleeting moment, fear gripped her, but she sighed in relief when nothing catastrophic happened—until she heard another crack. Her heart raced as the branch beneath her gave way. But Sherryl had expected she would hit the ground considering how Dallion was, he was always after making fun of her. Instead, Dallion caught her in time as she fell. She had squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact, but when the fall didn’t come, she finally opened her eyes to see him staring at her, calm and composed. "Thank you," she muttered, still catching her breath. "You got my fruit?" Dallion asked nonchalantly. Sherryl looked down at the fruit in her hand, slightly bruised from the ordea
Last Updated : 2024-11-01The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. drop it lower
By the time they reached the mansion, the sky had brightened because it was almost noon, clouds gathering ominously since they had left. Dallion stopped outside the grand estate without stepping in, signaling to his driver, Victor, who stood at attention, ready for his master’s command. Dallion turned his dark gaze to his butler, who appeared out of nowhere as if summoned by an invisible bell. “We’re visiting the Bone lake beach I’ll be back in three hours. In the meantime, Raven might come by with some items. Make sure everything gets to my room without a scratch. Handle it yourself,” Dallion instructed, his tone clipped. “I’ll make sure everything is brought to your room safely, sir,” the butler responded with a bow. “Good.” Without waiting for further acknowledgment, Dallion strode toward the waiting car, and Sherryl followed closely, as was expected. Nicki
Last Updated : 2024-11-02The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. A generous tip
Dallion, who had mentioned finding her a new pair of heels, had instead handed Sherry the stack of bags he'd gathered. He hadn't picked a single thing for her, and she'd learned just how ridiculously picky he was. She’d thought she was cautious when shopping, given her lack of funds, but this man was in a league of his own. They’d hit nearly a dozen upscale shops, yet Dallion kept turning his nose up at everything with a look of absolute boredom until he finally found a blazer that mildly interested him, only to drop it again. When they reached a store he deemed acceptable, he’d started haggling shamelessly, dismissing price tags as if they were mere suggestions. "Let’s settle on two thousand," Dallion said, examining a sleek, dark jacket as if it held the secrets of the universe. Sherry bit down her reaction, feeling the flush of secondhand embarrassment. She was the captive here, technically his possession, yet she found herself wishing she could disappear behind the clothing
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The assistant led Sherry into another room where a dark, sleek tub filled with water awaited her. The room resembled a luxurious spa rather than a mere washroom. Black marble tiles covered the floor, polished to a mirror-like gleam. A small leather chair sat near the tub, and the assistant gestured for Sherry to sit.Clad in a tight, utilitarian dress that skimmed just above her knees, Sherry sat with a restrained posture, careful not to expose more than necessary. Awkwardly, she lifted her foot, placing it into the cool water, feeling a jolt of unexpected relief. Her skin was roughened from days on the run, calloused and scarred, and the sight embarrassed her, but the assistant remained impassive, a perfect, blank slate as she knelt to scrub Sherry’s foot with professional precision.Sherry braced herself for a look of disdain—if not from the assistant, then from Gen, the store’s intimidating proprietor. Yet neither the assistant nor Gen displayed even a
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The woman was swift as she emerged with two boxes in her hands. "These arrived together with the crimson stilettos you were eyeing, Mr. Cross," she said, opening a box without waiting for her assistant and kneeling in front of Sherry. Sherry found this strange, almost unsettling. Two weeks into this life, and people had treated her like a pawn, disregarding her as if her individual worth didn’t matter. In that time, this woman, who managed the store, knelt before her without even a moment’s hesitation. The gesture touched Sherry. It was often said that in the bleakest moments, the smallest kindness felt like a light in the dark, a reminder that some trace of humanity lingered, even among people as ruthless as those in the Cross Empire. "These are crafted by a master cobbler in southern Bone lake," Gen explained, lifting a pair of dark, inky blue heels that resembled a midnight sky. From afar, they appeared black, but upon closer
Last Updated : 2024-11-05The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Cheap
She was only going to wait, to wait until an opportunity comes by for her to escape.Sherry watched Dallion as he closed his eyes, his hand shielding them from the faint light filtering into the room. She felt a strange stillness, now that he had decided to take a nap. Unsure of what to do with the boxes of shoes he’d bought for her, she lowered herself to the floor, setting them beside her. Opening one of the boxes, Sherry was met with a sleek heel, reminiscent of the ones the store assistant had forced her to try on earlier. Despite Dallion’s insistence on something “cheap,” these shoes looked anything but extremely expensive. Maybe in the Cross empire’s elite stores, this was the baseline, the cheapest one, as per Dallion's thoughts there was nothing affordable for anyone who wasn't within their high ranks or powerful connections in their circle. She closed the box, then opened another to reveal a pair of flat-laced boots, sturdy yet grace
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Dallion had pulled off his mud-covered shoes, setting them aside before stepping back into the bathroom. Sherryl was already in the bathtub, submerged in warm water, her bare skin hidden beneath the rippling surface. The heat soothed her shivering body, easing the lingering chill from earlier. But she hadn’t expected Dallion to walk back in after she had stripped down completely. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said casually, not sparing her a glance as he strode toward one of the built-in cupboards along the wall. His voice was calm, unbothered. With his back to her, he rummaged through the shelves, unaware—or maybe fully aware—of the panic spreading across Sherryl’s face. Should she get out of the bath? The thought made her heart race. This had never happened before, so she hadn’t even considered that he might walk in while she was completely exposed. Her body had been mostly visible above the water before,
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. stepped inside
The women didn’t linger outside. They stepped back into the mansion, leaving the butler and the dead maid still lying on the cold ground. Nickison furrowed his brows as a thought struck him—hadn’t Dallion left for the council early in the morning, riding in his usual blacked-out car? Then how had he returned without it? Had he walked the whole way back? The maid’s body remained sprawled out, her lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Blood pooled around her head, soaking into the pavement where her face pressed against the ground. Inside the mansion, in the quiet of Dallion’s room, Sherryl stood with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She watched as he entered the bathroom, not sparing her a glance as he moved. He pulled the plug in the tub before turning on the faucet, allowing steaming water to pour in. The sound of running water filled the silence. Feeling Sherryl’s eyes on him, Dallion placed his hands on the edge of the tub before a
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The maid’s body lay lifeless on the cold ground, her head barely attached, hanging at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled beneath her, the sharp scent thick in the air. Everyone stood frozen, the shock rendering them silent. Death wasn’t unusual in their world, but it was usually kept behind closed doors—clean, quiet, and handled out of sight. Dallion had no interest in subtlety. A lesson had to be taught, and he had made his point. No one would dare step out of line again.Grace was the first to speak, her voice steady but laced with disbelief. “Dallion, why did you kill her?” She was the only one with the nerve to ask, maybe because she was older. His voice was cold, empty. “Didn’t you hear me?” “I did.” Grace sighed, then turned to the servants. “Go back to your work.” The staff, still shaken, hurried to obey. A few hesitated, their gazes flickering to the corpse, but when Nickison sho
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. who did it ?
Sherryl woke to the familiar sounds of the Cross mansion stirring to life. She went through her usual morning routine, the image of the destroyed port still lingering in her mind. Later, she stood on her balcony, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea stretching below the mansion. The rhythmic crash of the waves usually brought her a sense of calm, but today, her thoughts were troubled. Suddenly, she was shoved forward, stumbling slightly. This was the second time in less than a week someone had deliberately pushed her. A chill ran down her spine. Was it a coincidence, or was something more sinister happening?She knew the Cross empire was a dark place, but someone messing with her under Dallion's nose, that person was wishing death. She tried to struggle to swim but all was in vain. Until she felt a gentle masculine hand wrapping around her.It was Dallion, he saved her again. After both Sherryl and Dallion climbed up the hill—with Dallion
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Thank you
Sherryl’s hands went cold. An entire Cross family port wiped off the map—just like that. She swallowed, trying to wrap her mind around the scale of destruction. “They’re that powerful?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. “What do they even gain from it? Resources can be taken in other ways.” Dallion exhaled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “True, but nothing compares to raw life force. Especially in large quantities—it’s pure, unfiltered energy.” Sherryl clenched her fists. “And it’s only poor workers?”She knew the workers at the marina were the poor innocent people who never knew what they were guarding and packing. She was sure nobody had told them about anything about what type of job they were doing but only to follow orders. “Unfortunately, yes.” He tilted his head, watching her reaction. “The poor are easy to manipulate. Remember that body you saw at the council’s facility?”
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Using them
Weeks passed in the country, including Bonlake, where the city barely saw any shift in its weather. With winter closing in, the air had turned sharper, colder, forcing people to stockpile wood to burn through the long, unforgiving nights. As always, Sherryl sat at the desk, her fingers gripping the pen as she finished the last of her work. Two candles flickered at the edge of the wooden surface, their dim glow fighting against the darkness that pressed against the room. The only sound was the steady tick of the clock, each second stretching into the silence. It was nearing eleven. “Are you done, Sherry?” The voice drifted in from the balcony, where Grace had been standing ever since she handed out the assignment. “Yes, Lady Grace,” Sherryl answered, keeping her gaze on the parchment she had just finished filling. A gust of wind swept in as Grace stepped inside, her chiffon dress swaying around her as she moved to
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. How do you want me to do it?
Sherryl's heart pounded, each beat loud in her ears as if she were prey caught in the sights of a predator. Was this it? Was she just another piece for him to break, another game to play until he was bored? Dallion’s gaze never wavered as he asked, “What’s got you so scared?” She swallowed hard. “It’s going to hurt.” The mere thought of his teeth—or rather, his knife—against her skin made a shiver race down her spine. A smirk curved on his lips. “Pain can be… enjoyable, under the right circumstances.” His voice was low, smooth, as he placed one hand beside her head, trapping her beneath him. Sherryl’s breath hitched. “Only a true masochist would think like that,” she blurted, her nerves making her speak without thinking. Dallion chuckled, his amusement only making her pulse race faster. “That just means you haven’t experienced it properly yet,” he mused, his dark eyes watching her intently. Her ine
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Lie back!
Was Dallion being serious? Did this mean she would never have a life of her own? That she would grow old, still bound to him, still serving the Cross empire, while he remained the same—young, powerful, untouchable? “No,” Sherryl frowned, her expression tightening. Dallion gave her a curious look. “What? Worried the family feels too small? We can always add Sheeran to it. That make it better?” His smirk told her he already knew the answer. Of course, it didn’t. Adding his wolf of a right-hand man to this so-called ‘family’ didn’t make it feel any less like a cage. “Are you serious?” she asked, her voice edged with frustration. She needed to be sure—needed to know if this was just another one of his games, another way to toy with her for his own amusement. Dallion stepped toward her, lifting his hand. Instinctively, Sherryl squeezed her eyes shut, but his voice, suddenly soft, made her open them again.
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse. Beg me to fill you.
Back in the dimly lit penthouse, Dallion leaned back in his leather chair, sipping the dark red drink Nickison had brought to his room. One cup down, he poured himself another, the liquid swirling lazily inside the crystal glass. Sherryl stood in silence, watching him, her expression unreadable. Dallion hadn’t set the glass down, holding onto it like a moth clinging to a cold, unyielding wall. He took his time, savoring this second drink rather than downing it as he had the first. "Did you and Rose have some kind of fight last week?" he asked, lazily running his tongue over his lips, catching the last drop of the drink. "She seems eager to take shots at you." Sherryl hesitated before replying, "I don’t believe I’ve done anything to upset her, sir." Though, deep down, she suspected Rose’s constant hostility was simply because she was Dallion’s possession—his little mouse. And that alone seemed to be enough reason for Rose to make her life mise
