บททั้งหมดของ The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Sherryl’s thoughts drifted back to Dallion’s words, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between them. Mr. Cruise, spineless and shallow, was like a thorn in her memory. She found herself almost angry at how easy it was for men like him to walk away from promises and shatter hearts without a second thought. A spark of resolve flickered in her eyes as she glanced at Dallion, who was still watching her, that rare softness still lingering. She wondered, fleetingly, what secrets lay hidden behind his mask of iron—was he, too, a man capable of breaking hearts and walking away, or was he different?Dallion’s eyes met hers, his lips quirking upward as though reading her mind. “You’re wondering if I’m like him,” he remarked, his voice low. It wasn’t a question. Sherryl blinked, feeling her cheeks flush. Was she that transparent?“Would it be wrong to wonder?” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.His laughter was quiet, a mere huff of air, but it carri

It had been too long since she last set foot here. Since her mother’s death, Sherryl Rain hadn’t returned. With her mother gone, there was nothing left to come back for. The few essential items that remained in the house had been sold in the street market by her aunt May and uncle Larry, she had known the items had passed through hands until they landed with someone who could sell them further. The money Sherryl had gained was carefully stashed away, safe—or so she had thought—in a nearby place where her aunt and uncle lived, though it was miles from this place. Nostalgia washed over Sherryl as she returned to this forgotten corner of her past, a place abandoned and hollow. The door was locked, a small mercy to keep what was left hidden from prying eyes. After she had left, the area magistrate had taken over the place, storing it under his department until they could demolish it for some new project. But for a neglected human street like this one, developme

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.

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

"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