Lena awoke with a sharp gasp.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was.
The last thing she remembered was the Infernal Realm—the suffocating heat, the red sky, the twisted city that pulsed with a life of its own. She had been standing there, listening to the Devil's son warn her about the power of the mark.
And then… darkness.
Now, she was somewhere else.
A grand room stretched around her, lit by flickering golden chandeliers. The floor was polished black marble, reflecting the light in eerie patterns. Velvet curtains hung from high, towering windows, though outside, there was nothing but swirling mist.
She pushed herself up, disoriented.
This wasn't her apartment.
And it certainly wasn't the Infernal Realm anymore.
"Awake at last," a voice murmured.
Lena stiffened.
He was here.
The Devil's son stood near the fireplace, his back to her, swirling a glass of deep red liquid in his hand. Wine, maybe. Or something far worse.
She swallowed hard. "Where am I?"
He turned, those golden eyes watching her closely.
"You're in my domain," he said simply.
Lena forced herself to sit up. "Which is where, exactly?"
A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"A place between worlds," he said. "Not quite hell, not quite earth. Just a little… refuge of my own."
Her pulse pounded.
"Why did you bring me here?"
He took a slow sip of his drink before answering.
"You were overwhelmed. The Infernal Realm is not kind to mortals. It nearly consumed you."
Lena shivered. She remembered the way the shadows had moved, the way whispers had slithered into her mind.
She had felt it.
The pull.
Like something had been trying to drag her under.
She exhaled shakily. "So what? You saved me?"
The Devil's son chuckled. "Not exactly. You are mine, little mortal. I simply ensured you didn't get stolen by something else."
Lena clenched her fists.
"I don't belong to you," she hissed.
He tilted his head, considering her. "And yet, your soul says otherwise."
She glared at him, refusing to let the fear show on her face.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded.
He stepped closer, his golden eyes gleaming. "Many things."
Her breath hitched.
"But for now," he murmured, "I want you to listen."
Lena stiffened. "To what?"
His smirk widened.
"To the truth."
---
A Lesson in Deception
He led her through the grand halls of his strange domain, the golden candlelight casting long shadows on the walls.
Lena stayed close behind him, her senses sharp, her mind racing.
The air here felt different. Heavy with something unseen.
She wasn't sure if it was magic, danger, or both.
Finally, they entered a vast chamber filled with bookshelves stretching as high as the ceiling.
Lena blinked in surprise.
"You have a library?"
The Devil's son chuckled. "Did you think demons were mindless beasts?"
She bit her lip, but didn't answer.
He gestured toward the shelves. "This is where the secrets of the Infernal Realm are kept. Everything about pacts, bonds, and the power you now carry—it's all here."
Lena hesitated.
She had come looking for answers.
And now, they were right in front of her.
He watched her closely. "But knowledge is a dangerous thing," he murmured. "Once you learn the truth, there is no going back."
Lena met his gaze. "I need to know."
His smirk faded slightly. "Very well."
He reached for a book bound in black leather, its pages edged in crimson. He flipped it open and turned it toward her.
Lena stepped closer, her eyes scanning the words.
"The art of deception is the foundation of the Infernal Realm. Demons do not steal souls. Mortals give them away, blinded by their own desires."
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
He leaned against the table. "It means we do not take. We tempt. We deceive. But in the end, it is always a choice."
Lena swallowed hard. "So no one is forced into a deal?"
He arched a brow. "Did I force you?"
She hesitated.
No.
She had chosen to save Caleb.
She had offered herself.
Her stomach twisted. "But you knew what would happen. You let me do it anyway."
His golden eyes gleamed. "Of course I did. That is the nature of our existence, Lena. We never lie. We simply… guide mortals toward their own ruin."
A chill ran down her spine.
She looked back at the book, her fingers tracing the edge of the pages.
"To make a pact is to surrender not just the soul, but the will. Once bound, the mortal's fate is no longer their own."
Her throat tightened.
She was trapped.
She turned to him sharply. "Is there a way to break it?"
His smirk returned, but this time, there was something darker beneath it.
"There is always a way," he murmured.
Hope flared in her chest. "Tell me."
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.
"But breaking a pact comes with a cost," he whispered.
Lena's breath caught.
"What cost?"
His fingers traced the edge of the book, his gaze never leaving hers.
"If you wish to be free," he said softly, "then you must give something greater than your soul."
A cold dread settled in her chest.
"What does that mean?"
He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
"It means," he murmured, "that to break your bond with me… you must give me your heart."
Lena's pulse pounded.
"And if I don't?"
His smirk widened, but there was something almost… possessive in his gaze.
"Then you will remain mine forever."
She took a shaky step back, her mind spinning.
This was another trap. Another temptation.
But deep down, a part of her feared the truth.
Because despite everything—despite the dan
ger, despite the darkness—she could feel it.
The mark on her wrist. The pull in her chest.
A connection she couldn't deny.
Temptation.
And deception.
A deadly game she wasn't sure she could win.