Share

Worse than death

Author: Cra4writes
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-11 12:29:45

She had been staring at the polished black marble floor after she was done with the meal Nickison had given her, the surface on the floor was reflecting the dim light from the ornate chandelier like shards of broken glass when a plate was suddenly set in front of her. The rich aroma of garlic bread wafted up, causing her stomach to growl as she licked her lips in anticipation.

Lifting her head, she spotted Dallion engaged in a low, intense conversation with his father, his hand gesturing to her to go ahead animatedly. Seizing the opportunity, she grabbed a slice and devoured it, feeling the warmth of the bread fill her up. Within moments, the two pieces were gone, and she found herself licking the crumbs off her fingers when a chilling sensation washed over her—someone was watching.

At first, she thought it was Dallion, but he was preoccupied, his attention on the dark, green drink in front of him in a cup that resembled a green snake with the drawings on it. The thought twisted her stomach, making her feel queasy. She had never been in the presence of such dangerous men before—mafia families who could turn on you in an instant. When she finally glanced up, she found not one, but two pairs of eyes fixated on her. One pair brimmed with contempt, while the older woman's lips were pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

"Ugh, just looking at her makes my skin crawl," Rose scoffed to her mother, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you see how she ate? Crumbs everywhere."

Sherry felt her cheeks flush with anger, but she quickly masked it, realizing the unspoken rule: captives didn’t look back at their masters. The tension in the room thickened like smoke, suffocating her.

"What are you staring at?" Rose sneered, arching an eyebrow, trying to assert her superiority over Sherry.

If the other members of the family could hear her thoughts, Sherry would have been buried in the backyard without a second thought. Fortunately, they couldn’t.

"Quit ordering my little mouse around, Rose. If you want a pet, go buy one," Dallion interrupted, slamming his glass down with a sharp clatter that diverted their gaze back to him.

"Why not?" Rose shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "We are family, after all. Shouldn’t we share everything?"

"You forget, Rose," Dallion replied, his tone icy, "I’m the one who paid for her. I found her, and she belongs to me. I don’t share my belongings with anyone, least of all with you." He shot her a smirk, knowing it would irritate her.

Sherry was fed, but now she felt the weight of the family dynamics around her, sensing the underlying currents of resentment and power. She had never known what a 'normal' family was, but this felt more like a pack of wolves than a household.

As if sensing her unease, Dallion leaned over to Rose, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. Then, turning to Sherry, he commanded, "Follow me." She obeyed, lowering her gaze and trailing behind him through the grand hall and toward the exit of the mansion.

"Where are we going?" she asked cautiously.

"To hell," he replied without looking back. "Unless you plan to run away."

"Do you ever give a straight answer?" she challenged, her frustration bubbling.

"We all have questions," he shot back, a teasing grin on his lips. "Brave of you to talk back after that bread, though. Maybe I should cut down your rations."

Sherry wasn’t sure if he was joking or if he meant it. Before they stepped out, a maid approached, her hands shaking as she assisted Dallion with his overcoat. Sherry watched the door's intricate carvings, momentarily distracted, only to notice the maid’s nervousness under Dallion’s intense gaze.

Once outside, Dallion strode toward the waiting car, leaving Sherry to follow in her bare feet, still recovering from the pain of shards and thorns that lingered in her body. The idea of complaining flitted through her mind, but she knew it would only end in more trouble for her.

The ride was short, but Sherry felt the tension enveloping them like a heavy shroud. When they arrived, Dallion stepped out first. As Sherry followed, the door swung open, revealing a young woman with a welcoming smile—a stark contrast to the icy atmosphere inside the mansion.

"Mr. Cross!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, before briefly glancing at Sherry. Her smile faltered, replaced by a frown of distaste. "Who is this?" she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

"This is my property, Sherry," Dallion replied casually. "Sherry, meet Ada Gray."

Sherry bowed her head, feeling the weight of judgment in Ada's gaze as she appraised her like a piece of meat.

"When did you acquire her?" Ada asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Two days ago," he said, inviting himself inside.

Ada snapped her attention back to Dallion, clearly more interested in him than Sherry. "Would you like something to eat? Vivian made an amazing breakfast."

"I already ate. Here." He reached into his coat and pulled out a stunning dress, the same one Sherry had been forced to wear before it was torn apart. Her heart raced as she realized the implications—Ada was going to wear it.

"This is the one we saw! The beautiful dress!" Ada exclaimed, taking the fabric from him with gleeful hands. Sherry’s breath hitched as she felt her body tense, praying that Ada wouldn’t notice the damaged hem.

As the mafias around admired the dress, Sherry’s anxiety spiked. The last thing she needed was for her secret to be revealed.

"Let me try it on!" Ada chirped, rushing off to change.

Dallion sank into a lavish chair, exuding a casual arrogance that only heightened Sherry’s unease. She stood against the wall, her heart racing, every moment stretching like an eternity.

When Ada finally emerged, the dress looked stunning—until Sherry heard the distinct sound of fabric tearing. She watched in horror as the seams of the dress ripped apart, exposing Ada's skin in the most intimate way. Panic flooded Sherry’s senses. She could almost feel the darkness closing in around her, knowing full well that in this world, a single misstep could lead to a fate worse than death.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App

Latest chapter

  • 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

More Chapters
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status