Chapter Eighteen: A Deal with the Devil

The storm outside hadn’t stopped since morning. The rain came down in thick, angry sheets that rattled the windows and swallowed the world in darkness. Ariella stood by the window, her reflection trembling against the glass. She could still hear his words from last night echoing in her head.

“I’m not your enemy.”

But how was she supposed to believe that when everything about him screamed danger?

Lucien Draven wasn’t just the man who had shattered her life, he was the man offering to fix it. That was the problem.

She turned when the door creaked open. Lucien walked in slowly, dressed in black, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He looked too calm for a man who’d just walked through a storm. There was something about him, something controlled, deliberate, and terrifyingly sure.

Ariella’s fingers tightened around the edge of the curtain. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly.

He didn’t stop. “You said you wanted answers,” he replied, his voice low. “So, here I am.”

Her pulse raced. “I didn’t ask you to come into my room.”

He smirked faintly, eyes dragging across her face like he was searching for something. “You never ask, Ariella. You just look at me like I’m the monster in your story and hope I disappear.”

The silence stretched. The only sound was the rain.

She swallowed. “Aren’t you?”

He moved closer, step by step, until the space between them was charged with something she didn’t want to name. “Maybe I am,” he said. “But you need a monster on your side if you want to survive Elise.”

Her heart stopped. “What are you talking about?”

Lucien’s eyes softened, just a little. “She’s not who you think she is. She’s been pulling the strings for a long time — longer than you can imagine. And you… you’ve been her puppet.”

Ariella blinked, her throat tightening. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he said simply. “Your father’s death wasn’t an accident. It was planned. And Elise had a hand in it.”

Her legs went weak. “Stop it,” she whispered. “You can’t just—”

“I have proof.” His voice was firm now, almost cutting. “But I won’t show it to you for free.”

She looked up sharply. “For free?”

Lucien leaned against the desk, his gaze dark and steady. “I want something in return.”

The words came out before she could stop them. “What could you possibly want from me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “You.”

Her chest tightened. “Me?”

Lucien’s jaw clenched. “I need you to trust me. To work with me. To stop fighting every time I try to help you. You do that — and I’ll help you uncover the truth. Every detail. Every lie Elise has ever told.”

Ariella’s breath came shallow. The room suddenly felt too small. “That sounds like a deal with the devil,” she muttered.

Lucien’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Maybe it is.”

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “But sometimes, the devil is the only one willing to fight the darker monsters.”

Ariella’s eyes glistened. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt thick — heavy with something she couldn’t name. Fear? Anger? Attraction? Maybe all three.

Finally, she whispered, “And if I say no?”

Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Then you’ll never know what really happened to your father.”

He turned to leave, but she grabbed his wrist. Her hand trembled, but her voice didn’t. “Wait.”

He looked back at her — and this time, his expression wasn’t cruel or distant. It was something else entirely. Tired. Wounded. Human.

She hated that it made her heart ache.

“Fine,” she said finally. “I’ll make your deal.”

Lucien’s gaze lingered on her, then he nodded once. “Good.”

When he left, the silence that followed was deafening. Ariella sat on the edge of her bed, her hand still shaking.

She had just made a deal with the devil.

And somehow, deep down, she knew — there would be no turning back.