The Devil's Bargain

The Arrival

The sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires was the first sign that Kristina was truly alone. She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white, as her car crawled up the winding road. Dense trees loomed on either side, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, casting long shadows in the fading light. The mansion had to be close, though she couldn’t see it yet. Part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to.

The farther she drove, the more she felt the weight of the past few months pressing down on her chest. She had thought leaving him would be the hardest part, but escaping the memory of his touch, his cruelty, was proving to be far more difficult. Even now, miles away, she could feel the phantom grip of his hand on her arm, his voice hissing in her ear. But here, in the middle of nowhere, maybe she could finally be free.

A flash of dark stone caught her eye, and Kristina’s heart stuttered. Through the dense fog and overgrown trees, the silhouette of Blackwood Manor emerged. She slowed to a stop, staring at the towering structure ahead of her. It was larger than she had imagined, more imposing. Time had not been kind to the estate. Ivy clung to the weathered stone walls like veins, and broken windows reflected the dimming sunlight in eerie shards.

She exhaled a shaky breath. “This is it.”

She hadn’t known what to expect when she answered the ad: Caretaker needed for isolated estate. Room and board included. It had seemed perfect, almost too perfect—a place to hide, to start over. No prying eyes, no questions. Just her and the mansion. And the mysterious man who owned it.
Blake Blackwood.

His name had been scribbled at the bottom of the brief contract she had signed. He hadn’t even met her in person. Everything had been handled by his lawyer—cold, efficient, transactional. But now that she was here, staring at the decaying mansion, Kristina wondered if she had made a mistake. What kind of man lived in a place like this?

She pulled the car up to the entrance, the mansion towering over her. Her gaze drifted to the door, a massive thing of dark wood, intricately carved with swirling designs that had long since faded. It looked like no one had crossed the threshold in years.

Kristina stepped out of the car, the crisp autumn air biting at her skin. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and walked cautiously toward the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, the silence around her deafening. No birds. No wind. Nothing but the soft tap of her boots on the cracked stone path.

The key, old and rusted, was already in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, staring at the lock, and then slid the key in. It fit perfectly, turning with an eerie click that echoed through the empty courtyard. The door creaked open, revealing a dim interior.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The air was thick with dust, the scent of damp wood and age overwhelming her senses. Faint light trickled in through the few unbroken windows, illuminating the grand entrance hall. A massive chandelier hung above her, its crystals clouded with grime. The marble floors, once polished to a shine, were now cracked and dull.

“Hello?” Kristina called out, her voice barely above a whisper. The word seemed to vanish into the mansion’s dark corners.

No response.

She had expected as much. Blake Blackwood was a recluse, rarely seen even by his staff, according to the lawyer. The few that had worked here before her had either quit or disappeared without explanation. That fact should have unnerved her more than it did, but something about this place—about him—drew her in.

A shiver ran down her spine as she wandered further into the mansion. Dust-covered furniture lined the walls, and paintings of long-dead ancestors stared down at her with cold, lifeless eyes. She felt watched. As if the very house itself was aware of her presence.

“Just nerves,” she muttered under her breath, trying to shake the feeling.

Her footsteps echoed as she made her way toward the staircase that spiraled up into darkness. Kyle had told her that her quarters were on the second floor. For now, that would be her sanctuary.

She took the first step, the wood creaking beneath her weight. As she ascended, her hand grazed the banister, cold and smooth beneath her fingertips. Halfway up, she froze.

A figure stood at the top of the stairs.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in shadow.

Kristina’s heart pounded in her chest as she gripped the railing. The dim light from below barely illuminated the man’s face, but she could see the sharp outline of his jaw, the glint of dark hair, and piercing eyes that seemed to cut through the shadows and lock onto hers.

Kyle Blackwood.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stared down at her, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them said a word, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. Kristina’s mouth went dry, and she forced herself to speak.

“I’m Kristina,” she said, her voice barely steady. “I—uh, I’m the new caretaker.”

Kyle’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, he turned and disappeared into the darkness beyond the stairs.

Kristina stood there, frozen, her pulse racing. Something about the way he had looked at her—so intense, so… possessive—made her feel like prey, and the house, like a predator, had just chosen its next victim.

She swallowed hard and followed him up the stairs, the door creaking shut behind her.