The Devil's Obsession

Blood.

That was the first thing Seraphina smelled when she opened her eyes.

Not her blood—but someone else's. Thick. Metallic. Fresh.

The warehouse was dark, lit only by the flicker of a dying overhead bulb swinging from a chain. The scent of oil and iron clung to the air like rot. Her arms were bound behind her back, wrists aching from the strain. A metallic taste coated her tongue, and the left side of her face throbbed where someone had struck her.

She remembered everything.

The ambush.

The masked men.

The van with no windows.

And the voice she’d never forget—low, cold, and unmistakably powerful.

"Bring her to me."

Now she was here. Wherever here was.

Footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate, clicking against the concrete floor. A tall figure stepped into the light. His face was shadowed, but the energy that rolled off him was suffocating—dark, commanding, inhuman.

“Awake at last,” he murmured.

Seraphina straightened as best she could, chin lifted. “If you're here to kill me, get it over with.”

A soft chuckle echoed through the hollow room.

“Kill you?” he echoed. “No, sweetheart. You’re far too valuable for that.”

He stepped closer, and the light finally caught his face.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

He was beautiful—in the way a blade was beautiful. Sharp, polished, and meant to destroy. Midnight-black hair fell carelessly across his forehead, and his eyes—those eyes—burned with an unnatural crimson glow. A devil’s gaze. No humanity, just hunger.

“You’re him,” she whispered. “The Devil of the Underworld.”

He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of courtly manners. “Dante Moretti. Though most only whisper my name.”

Her heart pounded.

Dante Moretti wasn’t just a crime lord—he was a myth. A monster in a designer suit. A man with more blood on his hands than the war itself. Rumors said he didn’t age, didn’t bleed, didn’t sleep. That he struck deals in shadows, and those who betrayed him were never found again. Or if they were, it was in pieces.

And now he had her.

“Why me?” she asked, voice barely steady. “Why take me?”

He circled her slowly, a predator toying with its prey. “Because you’re special, Seraphina. Your father thought he could keep you hidden. Protected. But he should’ve known better. He stole from me. Lied to me. And now... I own the one thing he valued most.”

Her stomach dropped. “You’re using me to get to him.”

“No,” he said, stopping behind her. “I’m using you to end him.”

His breath brushed her ear as he whispered, “And when I’m done... you’ll beg to stay by my side.”

Seraphina’s blood ran cold.

Not from fear.

But from the terrifying truth she felt deep in her bones.

A part of her already wanted to.

But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not yet. She clenched her jaw and turned her head away, refusing to let him see the way her pulse betrayed her.

“I’m not a bargaining chip,” she said through gritted teeth. “You can threaten me all you want, but I’ll never help you.”

“Oh, I don’t need your help,” Dante replied smoothly. “I just need your presence.”

He moved to a small table in the corner, poured himself a drink of something dark and expensive-looking, and sipped it slowly, eyes never leaving her.

“You’re not here as bait,” he continued. “You’re here as... leverage. Influence. Your father has a reputation. A network. Allies. If they find out you’re in my custody, they’ll turn on him. I don’t need to destroy him. I’ll let his empire crumble under the weight of his own guilt.”

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. “You think he’ll care? He’s not the father you imagine. He taught me how to shoot before I could drive. Sent me away to boarding schools just so I’d stay out of his way. He’s a cold-hearted bastard.”

Dante tilted his head with interest. “And yet, here you are. The one thing he tried to hide.”

She stayed silent.

The truth was... she didn’t know what her father would do. He was unpredictable, ruthless, and far more interested in power than parenting. But she couldn’t let Dante see her doubt.

He smirked like he already had.

“I wonder,” he said, stepping closer again. “Do you hate him enough to side with me?”

She didn’t answer.

His fingers brushed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. “You have fire, Seraphina. I like that. It makes this more fun.”

She slapped his hand away with as much strength as she could muster. “You touch me again, and I’ll break every bone in your hand.”

Instead of anger, he laughed. A deep, dark sound that vibrated in the air between them.

“You’ll be fun to break,” he whispered.

And just like that, the door behind him opened. A man in a black suit entered and gave a curt nod.

“Sir, the shipment from Prague has arrived. Also—our guest in the basement is... resisting.”

Dante’s gaze didn’t move from Seraphina. “Handle it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door clicked shut again, leaving them in silence.

She tried to steady her breath. “What are you really?” she asked. “You’re not just a man.”

“No,” he agreed. “I’m not.”

And for a moment, she saw it—the flicker of shadows twisting behind his eyes. Something ancient. Something evil. Something hungry.

She’d always thought monsters lived in nightmares.

Now, she realized, some wore suits and whispered your name like a promise.

“Get some rest,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “Tomorrow, we

start rewriting your destiny.