I knew it. I should have never made a deal with the devil. And him? He was worse than the devil. The cold metal kissed my throat-not a lover's touch, but a promise. I felt every groove of the barrel, every intention behind it. Then he pushed deeper. "I thought we had a deal." His voice. Low. Gravel and gasoline. The kind of quiet that doesn't ask for permission. It takes. I've seen him angry. I've seen him bury men for breathing wrong. But this? He was frustrated. And frustration for him meant dead for me. The gun bit into my skin. I whimpered. Closed my eyes like that would save me. His other hand fisted hand-not holding. Crushing. I could already feel the bruises blooming under his grip. Little purple promises he'd leave behind. "And you never-" His breath hot against my ear. "-fucking break the deal with the devil, kitten." "I'm... I'm sorry." My voice cracked. Pathetic. Begging. I hated it. But I wanted to walk out of this room alive. And he was known for no mercy. So why would he leave someone like me breathing? Then I felt it. His teeth. Not a kiss. Not a threat. A claim. Sinking into my neck like he owned the blood beneath. And I knew what was coming for me. In the devil's syndicate, the throne was never the scary part. He was. _________________________________ ❛Kitten, the devil wrapped in silk, is still the devil.❜ _________________________________ • Tropes • Morally Grey to Black Hero Damaged Heroine Forced Proximity Gun Play Fear as Arousal Revenge by Proxy