The Demon's Half

Chapter 10

The same worn, weathered face of a man who partied too much and rested too little. Coffee skin. Deep creases framed his mouth.
Even his old white shirt and denim pants were the ones he wore on his last day alive.
The fracture in my heart took me by surprise.

"¿Papá?"

"It's Ronald! Open the door, Sebastian!" My landlord's voice was nothing compared to the thing standing in front of me.

He grinned and opened the door, but my father never smiled like that.

Ronald stood on the other side. "About time," he huffed, then took a step forward and stopped.

"My New Gods." His mouth flew open. "You've—transformed this place, Sebastian."

A slow chuckle. "Name your price." My father's voice, but not quite.

Ronald scoffed. "Land is not for sale."

That's when I saw it.
My father's eyes weren't hazel anymore.
They were ice blue. Bottomless pits of something ancient and lethal. "The land and house are the property of Morgan Lucia Brando de la Cruz."

My throat went dry. How the putas mierdas he knew my entire legal name?

Ronald's eyes were completely vacant. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Excellent," my not-father said. "Send the paperwork tomorrow. Now, begone."

Ronald nodded and staggered backward, shuffling in a daze. Like a sleepwalker. He didn't question. If he could twist his mind so easily—What had he done to me? The lump in my throat swelled, choking me. My eyes stayed locked on the predator standing before me.
But all I could see was him. Not the monster that could bend reality to his will. My father.
The man who had failed to shield me from the wreckage of our lives. And now he was here. I wanted to hurl every bitter, broken piece of myself at him, to demand why he had been such a horrible person. I wanted to punch him, until my fists ached. But I was still stuck on that couch.

"As for you," he purred, turning back to me.
With a snap of his fingers, the door slammed shut behind him, and his form shifted back into him.
The one with the flawless skin and sharp, arrogant jawline. The one with a body carved from something both wicked and divine. The one whose face could make you forget what was real, whose voice could make you doubt your own instincts.

"Don't ever forget I own you. I command; you endure. Is that clear?"

"Yo no—"

His eyes turned red. "Careful, Little Thing."

My gaze fell, my body screaming at me to stay quiet, but somewhere deep inside, something stubborn flared to life. "Okay. Next time, I'll just let you break our deal and see how that works out for you."

The second the words left my mouth, he was inches from my face. The shadows around him came alive, hissing like they were feeding off his anger. If I thought he was intimidating before, it was nothing compared to now.

"You think this is a game?"

I gasped, the sound escaping before I could stop it. It felt as if he was deciding whether to end me right then and there. His eyes turned back to his usual blue, and he grinned as he took a step back.

Something pushed me deeper into the couch. My body went rigid, completely immobilized by his shadows. They crawled toward me, crawling up my legs, my waist, my arms. My chest fought for air as they coiled around my neck.
I'd seen this before. When he killed those men.
These shadows weren't just his tools; they were extensions of him. A scream tore from my throat as I thrashed against their grip.