𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

8

"Damien, I don't know about this," I start, my voice breaking. "That's crazy. I don't know if I can just go in there and murder somebody. What do you want me to do? Shoot them?"

"No, Cat...you don't even know how to use a gun."

I feel sick but I press on, trying to make him understand my hesitation. "Damien...I just don't think I can...kill someone." I whisper, looking at him in shock, a panic coming on.

Damien's eyes narrow, his eyes turning icy and distant. Slowly, he reaches over and opens the passenger side door. "Get out," he says flatly, his voice void of any emotion. "If you can't do this for me, then you're not cut out to be involved with me. Find your own way back."

We're miles away from the city, in the middle of God knows where. If he leaves me here, I have no way of getting home. Even worse, I'm terrified he might rat me out to the cops or even frame me for the death of that man who attacked me. I never thought keeping Damien around for Penny's sake would involve murder.

But despite the fear churning in my gut, the thought of leaving Damien makes my chest ache. I can't lose him, not now. I scramble for words, for a way to pacify him without abandoning my morals. But as I search his face, I see nothing but coldness. He means what he says - if I don't do this, he'll leave me behind without even thinking. I come to realize just how much power he holds over me, how far and fast I've fallen for him to even make me consider killing someone.

I whisper, my eyes stinging with tears and my voice barely audible. "I'll do it..."

Damien's expression softens, the hard edges melting away like ice under the sun. "That's my girl," he murmurs, leaning in to press a gentle, electrifying kiss to my lips.

He pulls back and starts outlining the plan, his words precise and measured. "Now, the man you're looking for... he's in his mid-thirties, dark hair, olive skin. He'll be wearing a blue suit with a red tie. You've seen him at my meetings."

I nod along, committing the details to memory, while my legs bounce nervously.

Damien reaches into the glove box and takes out a masquerade mask, shimmering gold and intricate lacework. He places it over my eyes, his fingers brushing my skin. "It's a masquerade ball," he explains, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Perfect cover. He won't recognize you."

"Just keep that tattoo covered," Damien warns, his eyes flicking to the delicate ink on my chest.

I nod again, bringing my hand up to conceal the mark. "And then what do I do?"

"You take this," Damien hands me a small baggie of some sort of powder. "Fentanyl, pour it in his drink, he'll overdose. Understood?"

"Understood..." I mumble, wringing my hands in my lap.

As I sit in the car waiting for the go ahead, my nerves start to get the better of me. My hands shake violently and my breathing turns shallow. Damien notices, "Take this to calm you down." he says, pulling out a flask from his suit pocket and unscrewing the cap, offering it to me.

I take it with shaking hands and bring it to my lips, throwing back a big gulp of vodka. He reaches into the backseat and rummages around for a moment before emerging with a bag of square shaped pills. "Take one," Damien commands gently, pulling out a pill and handing it to me.

I throw back the pill and wash it down with one last shot of vodka. Damien's hand glides over my thigh, his touch igniting sparks beneath my skin, "It's time, Cat."

I nod numbly, giving myself a weak pep talk as I exit the car and make the long walk towards the mansion entrance.

Dear Heavenly Father, Please forgive me for everything I have done, and everything I am about to do.