The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.

Bone lake Coastal City....Year 2014, Midnight

The relentless downpour drenched the dimly lit streets of Bone lake, a coastal city where the sea roared under the storm's fury. The streetlights flickered, barely illuminating the narrow alleyways. Deep puddles formed, reflecting the towering shadows of forgotten buildings in this forsaken part of town. Beneath a broken street lamp, a young woman named Sherry Rain stood, clinging to her black umbrella, the rain slapping down like a symphony of whispers and screams.

Her jade green eyes darted nervously across the empty street as her aunt and uncle huddled under another umbrella a few feet away. The city's underworld had kept them on edge for weeks. Every delivery felt like walking through a minefield. Tonight was no different.

"Aunt May, do you think Mr Jason will show up?" Sherry asked, her voice barely rising above the sound of the rain. "The storm’s getting worse, I don't think the rain is going to stop any time soon."

"He will come my dear," her aunt replied, she was an old woman who had worked for her parents, she was her nanny back then before she lost her mother.

Though the tremor in her voice betrayed her anxiety. May rubbed her hands together as if the motion could somehow calm the storm inside her. The night was dark, the air thick with tension. Uncle Larry the butler stood silent, his eyes flicking from shadow to shadow, his body stiff and coiled like a spring ready to snap.

They had been waiting for over an hour now, bags of contraband hidden beneath sacks of vegetables. Sherry’s mother had passed away seven years ago and they had lost everything, and since then, her aunt and uncle had taken her in, offering her a place in their small but dangerous operation. The vegetable stall was a front for laundering money for one of Bonelake’s most notorious mafia families. But business had been bad. Uncle Larry had worked tirelessly, waking at dawn to keep the shop running. Yet, every day it seemed like they slipped deeper into debt. And now they were desperate.

One of their clients—a high-ranking mafia boss—had demanded a delivery tonight. But so far, there had been no sign of him. Not even a warning from his men.

"I'm going to check the market. Maybe he’s waiting for us somewhere else," Uncle Larry said suddenly, his voice gruff.

"No. You stay here," Aunt May countered, gripping his arm. "The last thing we need is you getting jumped in an alley."

"I'll be quick," Sherry offered, trying to break the rising tension. "I can run down the street and check—"

"No," her uncle snapped, his tone sharp as a blade. "You do what you’re told. This is no game, Sherry."

Sherry’s heart sank. He always spoke to her that way—cold, distant, like she was more of a burden than family. She gripped her umbrella tighter, forcing a smile to her lips.

"I'll keep an eye out," she said quietly, trying to push away the unease curling in her stomach. May gave her a weak smile before she and Larry disappeared into the dark, their figures swallowed by the rain.

The streets were quiet. Too quiet. The occasional car sped by, splashing dirty water as Sherry stood under the small awning. She glanced up as a black SUV roared past, its windows tinted. It didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. Just another ghost in the night.

Her fingers tightened around the umbrella's handle as her thoughts wandered. She had heard stories—whispers of girls disappearing in the night, of bodies found in the river, of debts paid in blood. Bonelake was a city that devoured the weak. And Sherry had been trying not to become its next meal.

Another flash of lightning split the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder. A bell tolled in the distance, ominous and eerie, as though counting down the moments to something inevitable. Sherry swallowed, her nerves fraying as she peered down the road, hoping to see her aunt and uncle returning. Instead, she saw a sleek black car pull up at the curb a few feet away. The door clicked open, and a man in a dark suit stepped out.

He was tall, imposing, with an aura of danger that rippled through the air. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Sherry, sending a chill down her spine. She knew instantly—this was him. The customer they’d been waiting for. But something was off.

The man strode toward her, the rain barely touching his tailored suit. He didn’t seem to notice the storm, or the mud splattering his polished shoes. Sherry’s breath quickened. She straightened, trying to steady her voice.

"You’re late," she called out, her tone more defiant than she felt. "We’ve been waiting for over an hour. The delivery is ready, but you'll have to pay extra for wasting our time."

The man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his dark eyes scanned her, making her skin crawl under his intense gaze. Slowly, a smile curled across his lips—a dangerous, predatory smile that made Sherry’s heart stutter.

"Where are your uncle and aunt?" His voice was smooth, too smooth. It felt like a trap.

"They went to check the market. They’ll be back any minute," Sherry lied, her stomach twisting in knots.

The man’s smile widened, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I don’t think they’ll be back in time, sweetheart."

Before Sherry could react, he lunged, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip. Panic surged through her veins as she yanked against him, but he was too strong.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted, her voice shaking. She tried to pull free, but he held on tighter, his smile never wavering. "Let go of me!"

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Sherry swung her umbrella, the metal handle catching him across the face. He cursed, releasing her just long enough for her to shove him back and break into a sprint.

The rain pelted her as she ran, her shoes slipping on the wet pavement. She heard him behind her, his footsteps splashing through the puddles as he pursued her relentlessly. Every corner she turned, he was there, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

She darted into a narrow alley, her breath ragged, heart pounding. Her mind raced—where could she go? Who could she trust?

She ducked behind a rusted dumpster, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She listened, the sound of the rain drowning out everything but her own frantic heartbeat. She couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close.

Slowly, she peeked around the corner of the dumpster. The street was empty. Maybe he had given up. Maybe—

A hand clamped over her mouth, yanking her back. Sherry’s scream was muffled as the man pulled her against him, his breath hot against her ear.

"You’ve got spirit," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "But no one runs from me.

Sherry struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was no use. He dragged her toward the black SUV, her limbs growing weaker as fear consumed her. The door to the car opened, and Sherry’s eyes widened in terror as she was thrown inside. The last thing she saw was the man’s scarred face leering at her before the door slammed shut, the world outside disappearing in an instant.

Thunder cracked overhead, and the rain poured harder, washing away any trace of her as the SUV disappeared into the night.