Chapter 4_The devil's bargain

Elira’s POV

Trust is a luxury I could no longer afford. After the betrayal I got from my family and fiancé, I knew one thing for certain: no one does anything for free. Especially not a man like Mr. Blackthorne.

The moonlight was cold, silvering the edges of my room as I stared at the ceiling. Sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the screech of tires that struck me. I stood up, my legs feeling steady. I had to know. I had to find out why he had saved me.

I crept out of my room, the silence of the mansion pressing against my eardrums. I made my way downstairs, my feet silent on the black marble. My destination was the room where I had seen him hours ago.

I pushed the door open. The air was heavy, the scent of her cheap perfume still struggling against the dominant, woodsy musk of his cologne. The room was pristine. The bed where they had sinned was already straightened, the fabrics replaced. It was as if the act had never happened.

I began to rifle through the drawers of his desk, my fingers trembling. I expected documents, bank statements, or perhaps a contract with my name on it. Instead, my breath hitched as I pulled open a deep bottom drawer.

Cuffs. Silk ropes. Sex toys that I couldn't even name.

"What a freak," I whispered, the word tasting like copper in my mouth. My skin crawled. Was this what he had in store for me? Was I just a broken bird he was nursing back to health so he could clip my wings in a different way?

I left the study, my skin prickling with a new kind of fear. I moved back upstairs after I found nothing down. But before I reached the door to my room, I stumbled into a smaller side room—an office I hadn't noticed before. On the desk lay a stack of photographs.

I picked them up, and the world tilted.

It was Damien and Victoria.

How did he have these? Was he working with them?

Betrayal flushed through my veins. I didn't think. I grabbed the photos and on my way to his room, grabbed a knife. If he was going to kill me, I would strike first.

I marched into his master suite. The room was dark. He was asleep, his massive frame sprawled across the bed. The tattoos on his right arm seemed to swim in the shadows, ink turned to scales. He looked older than Damien, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties, but there was a raw, timeless power in his face that made age irrelevant.

I stood over him. My hands were shaking so violently the knife rattled. Now. Do it now. I raised the blade, my heart hammering like a trapped bird. I wanted to plunge it into his chest, to stop the heart of the man who had seen me at my lowest. But as I leaned in, his eyes snapped open.

He didn't wake up slowly. He was instantly alert, a predator who had sensed the scent of blood. He jerked up, as if waking up from a nightmare.

"Fuck! Elira, what the hell are you doing?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep and alarm.

I didn't back down. I threw the pictures onto the bed, the glossy paper sliding across his bare chest. "I swear I'll kill you if you lie to me!" I screamed, the tears finally breaking free. "How do you know them? Are you one of them? "

Arthur didn't flinch at the knife. He didn't even look scared. He looked at the photos, then back at me, exhaling a long, weary breath. He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking more annoyed than threatened.

"Relax, jeez," he sighed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "You’re overreacting, princess."

"Overreacting?" I shrieked, gripping the knife with both hands. "You have pictures of the man who murdered me and my child! Don't you dare come near me!"

He stood up, his towering, tattooed body looming over me. He didn't stop. He walked toward me with a terrifying, calm confidence. I backed up, the knife pointed at his heart, until my back hit the cold wall.

"I said stay back!" I warned, my mind flashing to the blonde woman. "Don't you dare touch me with those flithy hands!"

He didn't stop until his chest was inches from the tip of my blade. He looked down at the knife, then up into my eyes. His grey gaze fixed on mine.

"Which one do you want actually, princess?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "To tell you how I got the pictures, or not to touch you? Because you're shaking so hard you're liable to cut yourself."

"Both!" I spat.

In a move so fast I didn't even see it coming, his hand shot out. He grabbed the hand holding the knife. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed me. The blade I thought I held so tightly was suddenly in his possession, as easy as taking a toy from a child.

He didn't use it on me. He tossed it onto a chair, grabbed the photos from the bed, and then gripped my wrist. His grip was like iron—not painful enough to bruise, but impossible to break.

"Let me go!" I shouted, struggling as he led me out of the room and down the stairs. " Let me go!"

"Sit," he commanded when we reached the dining room.

"I'm not sitting!"

He shoved the photos onto the mahogany table. "Fine. Stand. But listen. I met them the day I took you."

My heart staggered. "What?"

"They were at the hospital," He said, his eyes darkening. "I watched them. I heard them. They were laughing, Lira. They were making sure the doctors let you die. They were paying for your funeral before you were even cold. I took those pictures because I keep files on my enemies. And anyone who tries to harm you is my enemy."

Tears blurred my vision... it was too much. "You don't know anything..."

"I know enough," he cut in, his voice turning lethal. "I’ll make them pay. Every single one of them. I’ll have them destroyed. I’ll have them crawling through the dirt for what they did to you. I just need your words."

I looked at him, truly looked at him. His grey eyes were dead serious. "Why?" I whispered. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me."

He stepped closer, the scent of him filling my senses. "Let's just say you piqued my interest. You got lucky, princess. But you’re right about one thing. I’m not a saint. This isn't for free."

I stepped back, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I knew you are not to be trusted, you motherfucker."

I turned, walking out on him.

"I need an heir."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stopped midway, my feet freezing on the marble. I slowly turned around, my eyes widening in pure horror.

"What did you just say?" I whispered.