Chapter Three - Maria's Pov

I stared with pure dread as he turned toward Sienna. His hand moved to the holster of his gun. My heart caught in my throat. It was clear what he wanted to do. I jumped in front of him without thinking.

"Don't hurt her please. She's not herself," I said, my voice shaking.

He paused and looked at me. His eyes roamed over my scattered dark hair, the casino uniform I still wore, and then stopped at my bleeding palm. I shifted to hide it behind my waist.

He reached forward and grabbed it before I could properly hide it.

"This is blood, and you're defending her?" His voice was cold, an edge of danger in it.

"She didn't mean it I promise. My sister is sick and there's a lot going on so please don't kill me. Please just let me go. I have a lot on my plate than to think of exposing you." I pleaded but his hand never left mine.

He ripped his tie from his shirt and I watched with surprise as he wrapped it around my bleeding arm.

Without another word he hurled me over his shoulder and walked out of the house.

"What? Please let me go!" I yelled. For a small moment there I had thought he was going to let me go. But what was this he was doing?

I kicked and struggled against his back but his hold on me was like iron. He didn't even seem to notice my resistance. He carried me to a black car that was waiting outside. I hadn't even heard it pull up.

He opened the door and shoved me inside. I scrambled to the other side of the seat, pressing myself against the door. He slid in beside me and the car pulled away before I could even think about jumping out.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded.

He didn't answer. He just stared ahead, his jaw tight, his gold eyes unreadable in the dim light of the car. I looked down at the tie wrapped around my hand. Blood was already soaking through the fabric. My palm throbbed with a dull, aching pain.

I looked out the window and watched my house disappear from view. Sophie was still in there. Sienna was still in there. I had no idea what would happen to them now that I was gone.

I was taken inside and led up a flight of stairs, when we reached. Don Martinez didn't accompany me. He disappeared down another hallway without a word, leaving me with a woman who led me to a room on the second floor.

"This will be your room," she said, her voice neutral and professional. "Food will be brought up shortly. Clothes are in the wardrobe. Please shower and change. Don Martinez will see you in his study when you are ready."

She left before I could ask any questions. The door clicked shut behind her but I noticed it wasn't locked this time. I could leave if I wanted to. I could run again.

But where would I go?

I looked around the room. It was beautiful. A large bed with soft white sheets. A wardrobe filled with clothes that looked expensive, the tags still attached. A private bathroom with a shower and a bathtub. Everything I could possibly need.

I was still in shock. None of this made any sense. The man who had tried to kill me hours ago had just rescued me from my stepmother. He had wrapped his tie around my wound and carried me out of that house.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. My hand still throbbed. The tie was soaked through now, the blood starting to dry and darken against the white fabric. I unwrapped it carefully and examined my palm.

The wound was deep but it had already stopped bleeding. I pressed the tie back against it and held it there.

I forced myself to stand and walked to the bathroom. When I finished, I wrapped myself in a towel and went to the wardrobe. I pulled out a simple dress and slipped it on. The fabric was soft against my skin. I dried my hair as best I could and left it loose around my shoulders.

The same woman from earlier appeared at my door just as I finished dressing.

"Don Martinez is ready to see you now," she said.

My stomach twisted with fear but I nodded and followed her down the hallway. She led me to a large study on the ground floor. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. A massive desk sat in the center of the room. Don Martinez was seated behind it, his gold eyes fixed on me the moment I walked through the door.

"Leave us," he said to the woman. She nodded and closed the door behind her.

I stood in front of his desk, my hands clasped together in front of me. My injured palm throbbed beneath the fresh bandage the woman had applied earlier.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I sat. My legs felt weak and I wasn't sure they would hold me much longer anyway.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it across the desk toward me. I looked down at it. The first thing I saw was the word CONTRACT written across the top in bold letters.

I stared at it and then looked up at him, confused.

"Read it," he said.

I lowered my eyes to the paper. It was titled Contract of Personal Help. I read through the terms quickly. They were simple and straightforward. I would be required to serve as his personal helper for an unspecified duration. The exact nature of my duties was not clearly stated. But the benefits were listed in plain numbers.

Rehabilitation for my mother. Financial care for my sister. A monthly payment of fifty thousand US dollars for the duration of the contract. Which was a year.

I blinked and read the numbers again. Fifty thousand dollars a month.

I looked up at him, my confusion written plainly on my face. "What is this?"

"Do you agree?" he asked, ignoring my question entirely.

"Agree to what? This contract doesn't even say what you want me to do." I held up the paper. "It says personal helper but it doesn't explain anything."

"Don't ask," he said flatly. "Do you agree or not?"

I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. I looked back down at the paper. Fifty thousand dollars a month. Sophie could see the best doctors. She could get the treatment she needed. Sienna could get help too, even if I didn't want to admit it.

But this was too much money. No one paid this much for a personal helper. No one paid this much for anything.

I looked at him again. His gold eyes watched me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. What did he want from me? I thought about the most obvious answer. Sex. But this was way too much payment for just sex, especially one he hadn't even been with yet.

"Is this related to why you didn't kill me?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

My mind went back to the moment in the alley. The moment when his eyes had turned gold and glowing. I had never seen anything like it. I had told myself it was a trick of the light. But I had seen it again when he saved me at my house.

I knew things about the world that normal people didn't believe in. I had grown up with a curse following me. Everyone I loved got hurt or died. I had spent my whole life asking why.

I had spent my whole life wondering if there was something out there. Something beyond what I could see.

Was this some sort of slave contract? Was he going to use me for some terrible purpose and then dispose of me when I was no longer useful?

I stared at the contract and swallowed.

"You're not human, right?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.