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The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.
The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.
Penulis: Cra4writes

You're late.

Penulis: Cra4writes
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2024-09-28 12:20:09

Bone lake Coastal City....Year 2014, Midnight

The relentless downpour drenched the dimly lit streets of Bone lake, a coastal city where the sea roared under the storm's fury. The streetlights flickered, barely illuminating the narrow alleyways. Deep puddles formed, reflecting the towering shadows of forgotten buildings in this forsaken part of town. Beneath a broken street lamp, a young woman named Sherry Rain stood, clinging to her black umbrella, the rain slapping down like a symphony of whispers and screams.

Her jade green eyes darted nervously across the empty street as her aunt and uncle huddled under another umbrella a few feet away. The city's underworld had kept them on edge for weeks. Every delivery felt like walking through a minefield. Tonight was no different.

"Aunt May, do you think Mr Jason will show up?" Sherry asked, her voice barely rising above the sound of the rain. "The storm’s getting worse, I don't think the rain is going to stop any time soon."

"He will come my dear," her aunt replied, she was an old woman who had worked for her parents, she was her nanny back then before she lost her mother.

Though the tremor in her voice betrayed her anxiety. May rubbed her hands together as if the motion could somehow calm the storm inside her. The night was dark, the air thick with tension. Uncle Larry the butler stood silent, his eyes flicking from shadow to shadow, his body stiff and coiled like a spring ready to snap.

They had been waiting for over an hour now, bags of contraband hidden beneath sacks of vegetables. Sherry’s mother had passed away seven years ago and they had lost everything, and since then, her aunt and uncle had taken her in, offering her a place in their small but dangerous operation. The vegetable stall was a front for laundering money for one of Bonelake’s most notorious mafia families. But business had been bad. Uncle Larry had worked tirelessly, waking at dawn to keep the shop running. Yet, every day it seemed like they slipped deeper into debt. And now they were desperate.

One of their clients—a high-ranking mafia boss—had demanded a delivery tonight. But so far, there had been no sign of him. Not even a warning from his men.

"I'm going to check the market. Maybe he’s waiting for us somewhere else," Uncle Larry said suddenly, his voice gruff.

"No. You stay here," Aunt May countered, gripping his arm. "The last thing we need is you getting jumped in an alley."

"I'll be quick," Sherry offered, trying to break the rising tension. "I can run down the street and check—"

"No," her uncle snapped, his tone sharp as a blade. "You do what you’re told. This is no game, Sherry."

Sherry’s heart sank. He always spoke to her that way—cold, distant, like she was more of a burden than family. She gripped her umbrella tighter, forcing a smile to her lips.

"I'll keep an eye out," she said quietly, trying to push away the unease curling in her stomach. May gave her a weak smile before she and Larry disappeared into the dark, their figures swallowed by the rain.

The streets were quiet. Too quiet. The occasional car sped by, splashing dirty water as Sherry stood under the small awning. She glanced up as a black SUV roared past, its windows tinted. It didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. Just another ghost in the night.

Her fingers tightened around the umbrella's handle as her thoughts wandered. She had heard stories—whispers of girls disappearing in the night, of bodies found in the river, of debts paid in blood. Bonelake was a city that devoured the weak. And Sherry had been trying not to become its next meal.

Another flash of lightning split the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder. A bell tolled in the distance, ominous and eerie, as though counting down the moments to something inevitable. Sherry swallowed, her nerves fraying as she peered down the road, hoping to see her aunt and uncle returning. Instead, she saw a sleek black car pull up at the curb a few feet away. The door clicked open, and a man in a dark suit stepped out.

He was tall, imposing, with an aura of danger that rippled through the air. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Sherry, sending a chill down her spine. She knew instantly—this was him. The customer they’d been waiting for. But something was off.

The man strode toward her, the rain barely touching his tailored suit. He didn’t seem to notice the storm, or the mud splattering his polished shoes. Sherry’s breath quickened. She straightened, trying to steady her voice.

"You’re late," she called out, her tone more defiant than she felt. "We’ve been waiting for over an hour. The delivery is ready, but you'll have to pay extra for wasting our time."

The man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his dark eyes scanned her, making her skin crawl under his intense gaze. Slowly, a smile curled across his lips—a dangerous, predatory smile that made Sherry’s heart stutter.

"Where are your uncle and aunt?" His voice was smooth, too smooth. It felt like a trap.

"They went to check the market. They’ll be back any minute," Sherry lied, her stomach twisting in knots.

The man’s smile widened, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I don’t think they’ll be back in time, sweetheart."

Before Sherry could react, he lunged, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip. Panic surged through her veins as she yanked against him, but he was too strong.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted, her voice shaking. She tried to pull free, but he held on tighter, his smile never wavering. "Let go of me!"

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Sherry swung her umbrella, the metal handle catching him across the face. He cursed, releasing her just long enough for her to shove him back and break into a sprint.

The rain pelted her as she ran, her shoes slipping on the wet pavement. She heard him behind her, his footsteps splashing through the puddles as he pursued her relentlessly. Every corner she turned, he was there, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

She darted into a narrow alley, her breath ragged, heart pounding. Her mind raced—where could she go? Who could she trust?

She ducked behind a rusted dumpster, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She listened, the sound of the rain drowning out everything but her own frantic heartbeat. She couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close.

Slowly, she peeked around the corner of the dumpster. The street was empty. Maybe he had given up. Maybe—

A hand clamped over her mouth, yanking her back. Sherry’s scream was muffled as the man pulled her against him, his breath hot against her ear.

"You’ve got spirit," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "But no one runs from me.

Sherry struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was no use. He dragged her toward the black SUV, her limbs growing weaker as fear consumed her. The door to the car opened, and Sherry’s eyes widened in terror as she was thrown inside. The last thing she saw was the man’s scarred face leering at her before the door slammed shut, the world outside disappearing in an instant.

Thunder cracked overhead, and the rain poured harder, washing away any trace of her as the SUV disappeared into the night.

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Strip. Now!

    The early hours of the morning were typically silent, but today, a soft drizzle accompanied the heavy clouds that still blanketed the sky. The mansion that stood at the heart of the sprawling estate was a fortress, with guards stationed at every entrance, their cold gazes alert for any disturbance. Inside the vast underground levels, the clinking of metal against the concrete floor echoed. Sherry's eyes fluttered open as the noise roused her. She sat up slowly, her body aching from the night spent on a hard, cold cot. She rubbed her eyes and took in her surroundings—the dim, damp room that had been her prison for what felt like weeks. The steel door of her cell clanked open with a low groan, and Sherry felt a small surge of relief. The prospect of stepping outside, of breathing air that wasn’t stifled by the smell of fear and sweat, was a small consolation in her otherwise grim situation. As she rose to her feet, she saw other pr

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   This is the mafia. Girl!

    A knock on the steel door interrupted the guard before he could press the knife any deeper into Sherry's skin. His blade had already grazed her cheek, a shallow line of blood trailing down her face. "What?" he growled, his voice a guttural snarl as another knock echoed through the cold, dimly lit room. As strong as she tried to be, Sherry was terrified. She knew her position here—bound by ropes in the mafia's underground trafficking ring, a pawn in a vicious game of power. Viktor had been sent to "discipline" her, to remind her that rebellion came with consequences. He tugged on the back of her hair, yanking her head up so that her tear-filled eyes met his. "I haven't even started with you, girl," he sneered, breath hot on her skin. Sherry had hoped her desperate attempts to escape—punching, kicking, screaming—would have bought her some time. But all she got in return was a twisted grin and

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Break her down.

    The narrow corridor felt like a tomb, the pale lights overhead flickering intermittently, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Sherry's footsteps echoed down the cold concrete floor as she passed the holding cells, each lined with steel bars and flickering red lights. The captives inside sat motionless, their faces a mixture of despair and defiance. Some leaned against the wall, others curled into themselves, trying to shield their broken spirits. It had been five days since Sherry was dragged into The Basement, the infamous underground lair of The Bone lake Syndicate, a sprawling mafia organization that traded in secrets, power—and human lives. She'd spent two of those days in an isolation room, a punishment she was told would ‘teach her to behave.’ But she knew the real reason—they were trying to break her down before branding her, marking her like they did every other captive in this place. It was the same warning she’d heard from Raphael, her cellmate. The branding was a sign of o

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    In the dimly lit chamber of the underground warehouse, the air was thick with tension, and the smell of dampness hung in the atmosphere like a cloak. The bare bulb overhead flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows across the worn, concrete floors. This wasn’t a place for the faint-hearted. This was the heart of the underworld, a place where people became commodities, and money changed hands in exchange for flesh. Sherry stood in line with the other women, her wrists bound tightly behind her back, the coarse rope biting into her skin. Her heart hammered in her chest, but her face remained expressionless. The others, terrified and broken, had already shed silent tears. Sherry had learned long ago that crying did no good in a world like this. She’d bite down her terror like she had bitten down on the filthy hand of the man who had dared to touch her. The memory of it sent a fresh wave of disgust through her, but she kept her gaze steady, her lips pressed into a hard line. Across fro

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Only devils in disguise

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Get your hands off her

    Sherry had been trembling in the shadowy corner of the auction house, her hands bound, her lips dry from hours of fear and silence. She had heard whispers about the type of men who frequented these places—men who controlled half the city’s crime syndicates, men who bought and sold people like cattle. When the murmur among the crowd quieted, Sherry's heart pounded. All eyes started to move toward a figure in the farthest corner of the room. At first, he was only a silhouette, backlit by the dim lights of the warehouse, but as he walked, the sea of people parted, a wave of instinctual fear making them clear the way. She heard murmurs—something about "Don Dallion." Sherry dared not breathe as his dark shape came closer. He moved with a grace that could only come from a lifetime of dominance. People feared him, respected him, and for good reason. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one bringing him closer to where she stood on the platform. Sh

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Bab terbaru

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   I need a taste

    When an unintended sigh slipped past her lips, it only seemed to fuel the fire already burning in Dallion’s touch. His grip on her tightened, his heart beating steadily, his eyes alive with something dark and dangerous. His control was slipping, and he knew it. Without another word, his teeth extended, sharp and eager. "I need a taste," he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. Before Sherryl could react, Dallion sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Her skin was —warm, rich, intoxicating, it was sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. It made him wonder if it was because of who she was, something about her making it more potent, more addictive. It was like drinking from something rare, something otherworldly. Dallion never cared for attachments, never let himself be bound to anyone. He had always been clear about that. Women came and went, serving a purpose but never staying long enough to matter. But ever since he had laid eyes on

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   i don't share... little mouse

    Sherryl stared at him. Was she imagining things, or was Dallion actually jealous? The thought alone sent an odd, fluttery feeling through her stomach, one she didn’t quite understand. "I don’t share, little mouse," Dallion said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Did you really think I’d be fine with you standing on a stage, under bright lights, with hundreds of eyes fixated on you?" His tone was calm, but the possessiveness in it was unmistakable. He leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Do you want to know when and how I fell for you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I think it’s time I told you properly." Sherryl’s heart pounded. "I think it’s okay if you don’t," she blurted out, already anticipating the embarrassment that would follow. Dallion clicked his tongue. As she raised her hands to push him away, he caught them effortlessly, pinning them against the bed with a smirk.

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Seduce men with your voice

    Sherryl, still quietly eating her apples, wished she could finish quickly and leave as well. Every meal in this house felt like a battlefield, tension thick in the air. She continued eating as discreetly as possible. Then, his father spoke. "You should stop spoiling the girl, Dallion. Your sister is right. We don’t want you being manipulated." His cold gaze flickered toward Sherryl, and she felt a lump form in her throat. "There have been plenty of cases where a simple girl like this has twisted her owner into doing unspeakable things—even wiping out their own family just at her word. And we both know you’ve already had your fair share of experience with betrayal." Dallion’s smirk didn’t falter. "Don’t worry, Father. I care about my family too much to kill them. Well… at least you and Grace. The rest? I can’t make any promises." His eyes drifted toward his younger half-sister. Rose’s expression darkened,

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Screwing each other like animals.

    Here’s the revised version with the name changes.In the grand estate of the Cross family, the evening air was thick with the promise of an impending storm. The sky remained overcast, and a biting wind whispered through the halls. With winter creeping closer, the temperature had plummeted to an unforgiving low. If not for the warmth provided by the mansion’s insulated walls and flickering fireplaces, those unaccustomed to such cold would have perished.For the staff working in the Cross estate, survival was a luxury they didn’t take for granted. The grand halls and well-kept quarters provided a stark contrast to the bleak streets they might have otherwise called home.As the evening descended into dinner time, Dallion Cross and Sherryl Rain made their way into the dining room. Plates were brought out by silent staff, each movement practiced and precise. Sherryl, however, found herself staring at what was placed before her—a thick slab of raw meat, still red wit

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   I tolerate her

    Dallion studied her intently, his sharp eyes reading every flicker of doubt on her face. But he still answered, "You said you walked there because riots had blocked the main road. You took a different route and eventually found him. Later, you mentioned bringing him back, but by then, it was too late. Your mother’s condition had already worsened. What’s going on, Sherryl? Speak." His voice was firm, demanding. There was an unsettling confusion in Sherryl’s eyes as she tried to piece together the past. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "If my mom could still be alive… does that mean she would allow me to look for him?" Dallion exhaled deeply, his expression unreadable. "Yes."He didn't want to give her false hopes, he knew her father left them and he was sure her mother wouldn't have allowed her to look for him. Sherryl nodded slowly, but she wasn’t convinced. If her father had left only to return years later, what

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Has someone touched you before?

    Dallion held her closer, his grip softer now, unlike before. His hands weren’t restraining her wrists anymore—they were holding all of her, as if anchoring her. It wasn’t just his touch that had changed, but his voice too. It was calm, quieter than usual when he spoke. “Tell me, Sherryl. Do you find it difficult to trust someone with your feelings?” His words were firm yet patient. “You do realize I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on?” Something had shifted in her. He had noticed the change immediately. Moments ago, she had been fine—her pupils had been dilated, her breathing slightly unsteady—but then, suddenly, she had gone still. Her heartbeat had steadied unnaturally fast, and her eyes had turned hollow, like she was somewhere else entirely. There was only one conclusion Dallion could come to. Had someone touched her before? Her voice was low when she finally answered. “It’s nothing serious.” Slowly, Dallion loosened his hold but didn’t let her mo

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   did something happen?

    Sherry barely had time to process the overwhelming sensations before her legs gave out. With a strangled yelp, she toppled sideways, arms flailing—only to land in an ungraceful heap on the floor.Dallion stared down at her, blinking. Then, slowly, a smirk curled his lips. “Well, that’s one way to show appreciation.”Sherry groaned, hiding her burning face in her hands. “I hate you.”“I know.” He crouched beside her, entirely too amused. “But if you were going to throw yourself at my feet, you could’ve at least done it with some dignity.”Bluebeard Lady chuckled from her corner. “She’s a fast learner. Even her falls are dramatic.”Sherry shot them both a murderous glare as Dallion effortlessly scooped her up. “Put me down!”“Not a chance,” he said, carrying her outside like she weighed nothing.The drive back to the Cross’s mansion was filled with Dallion’s teasing remarks—each one met with Sherry’s grumbled threats. But

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   You're mine to teach.

    The tent’s lanterns flickered softly, casting golden light over velvet drapes and aged artifacts. The scent of incense thickened the air, mingling with something more primal—the slow hum of anticipation.Sherry sat in the center of the room, wrists bound in silk, the smooth fabric a whisper against her skin. The ties weren’t meant for struggle, but for awareness—of herself, of the watchful presence behind her, and of the woman before her.Bluebeard Lady circled her like a patient instructor, a delicate silver chain swaying between her fingers. “Restraint,” she murmured, “isn’t about holding back. It’s about extending sensation, drawing it out until it becomes something unforgettable.”Sherry swallowed hard, feeling the heat of Dallion’s gaze from his seat across the room. He had yet to speak, but his presence was a force in itself—a quiet command.The woman knelt before Sherry, her fingers ghosting over her skin, feather-light. Even with

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Beginning to understand

    Sherryl Rain kept her head low, focusing on the lesson, even though she knew how rare it was for someone of Grace’s status to take the time to educate a mere servant. Most high-ranking figures in the Cross Empire saw little value in teaching those beneath them. Grace glanced at the worn parchment in front of her before turning her cold gaze to Sherryl, the little mouse that belonged to Dallion. “We’ll stop here for today,” Grace decided, stretching as she closed the book. “I need to take my mother and sister out to the Valley. Would you like to come?” The offer sounded casual, but Sherryl could hear the subtle test in it. “Ever been there before?” Sherryl gave a slight nod. “Master Dallion is taking me somewhere today.” A truthful excuse, but also a way to avoid the suffocating tension she’d have to endure with Grace and her ever-judgmental sister. Without pushing for details, Grace dismissed her, and Sherryl exhaled a brea

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