The Devil and the Princess

Selene’s stare pierced me—wide-eyed, jaw clenched. Defiance burned in her gaze, but beneath the fire, I saw it: regret. Bitter, heavy, undeniable. I wanted her to feel it every time she looked at me. To remember exactly where she stood.

She had no place in the air I breathed.

The silence between us stretched thin, taut like piano wire. Then she broke—eyes flicking away, spine folding as she drifted behind Damian like a coward finding her cage again. Whispers bloomed around her, toxic and unrelenting. Her name now tasted like ash in every mouth.

I bent down, helping the crew she’d belittled. My message was clear—dismissal without words. It was fine when she targeted me. But dragging others into her tantrum? Unforgivable.

She stood frozen, seething—dress ruined, dignity bleeding out of her. Damian and his sweet little mistress quietly exited, leaving shame in their wake. And just like that, the party moved on—without them, but not without scandal.

A slow clap echoed behind me, deliberate and unhurried.

“A beautiful show,” said a voice, low and laced with amusement. Velvet and danger. “You’ve stolen the spotlight. That’s how you make an entrance.”

I shouldn’t have smiled. But his praise—his—dragged it from me like a secret.

“Don’t forget why we’re here, princess.”

Ah, yes.

“Jackal,” I murmured, eyes combing the crowd. There he was—Mr. Cruz slinked off to the balcony, a cigarette already in his fingers. Just in time to miss the drama. Perfect.

“Sniper in position?” I asked.

“He’s waiting,” Sebastian whispered against my ear, voice dark and intimate. “Impress me, Kierra… and maybe I’ll reward you.”

My throat tightened. I knew exactly what kind of reward he meant.

“I’ll be right here,” he added, and I could feel the smirk against my skin. “Watching.”

I turned before he could see the heat rising in my cheeks. Damn that nickname.

Jackal lingered on the balcony, away from the lights and wine-soaked guests. Alone. Unsuspecting. Just as we’d planned. I approached him with the elegance of silk sliding over a blade.

He turned his head, eyes immediately dragging over my body, lingering on every curve with a predator’s grin. The cigar dipped between his fingers, and he exhaled a thick black smoke.

Ugh. The pollution.

“Good evening,” I said smoothly. “All alone?”

He licked his lips—cracked, dark. “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“I figured you weren’t much for mingling.”

“I prefer they come to me.”

“And have they?”

He flashed a set of metal-plated teeth—steel and gold in jagged patterns. Drug lord chic. Or maybe it is a pathetic attempt to mask years of rot.

He reached out without invitation, sweaty fingers landing on my waist, dragging me closer. His hand trailed lower, presumptuous and bold. I clenched my jaw but let it slide—for now.

“Why’d you come over, darling?” he whispered, breath sour and hot against my skin.

He knew. Of course, he did. He’d been avoiding Sebastian all night.

But I didn’t flinch. I played dumb, even as my eyes flicked to the sniper’s silhouette behind a laundry curtain in the neighboring building. Perfect line of sight.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs something from me…” I purred.

He chuckled. “You read my mind. Come home with me tonight. Drugs. Power. A place in government. Anything you want... Just don’t tell my wife.”

Disgust crept up my spine.

“You’d destroy your marriage for a woman you just met?”

“Why not?” He grinned. “A man has needs. If my wife won’t satisfy them…”

His mouth grazed my neck, wet and unwanted. I let him. Lured him deeper. Closer. Like a siren drawing her prey into the rocks.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Cruz.”

“And you’re not?” he said, curling a finger around a lock of my hair. “Who’s the lucky man, then?”

I smiled, slow and wicked, dragging a blood-red nail under his chin. I felt him shudder beneath my touch. Pathetic.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. So I can kill him.”

“Then turn around.”

He did.

The sharp crack of a silenced bullet split the night. His head snapped back, a clean hole between the eyes. His face twisted in shock—not from the shot, but from what he saw in his final breath.

Sebastian.

Jackal crumpled, blood soaking through white silk like spilled wine. The music from inside swallowed the sound of his fall. His final breath—a whisper—was claimed by the Devil himself.

With gloved hands, Sebastian took pictures from the pockets of his suit and threw them over Jackal’s body. Photos of the dismemberment he had done to children and the horrible sex trafficking ring he ran. Images of women in cages and identifiable pictures of his own cartel, with each member’s faces on a sadistic group photo in a torture chamber.

And then his eyes found me.

I froze. I’d seen Sebastian in many forms—but not like this. Not as the Devil they feared.

He walked toward me, slow and measured.

The wind dared to rustle the photos, but the crimson held fast, like a thick paste.

Sebastian adjusted his tie with slow precision like a man sealing a prayer after a ritual. Then his gaze lifted—those cold, merciless eyes found mine.

I stilled.

There was no trace of softness in him now. No charming rogue, no velvet menace.

Just the Devil himself, cloaked in the silence that followed death.

He stepped toward me, deliberate and slow.

And I made a mistake.

I stepped back.

A single movement, unthinking, instinctive—driven by something primal. Not fear of the man, but fear of what I’d awakened in him.

Was this still the Sebastian I thought I knew?

He let out a low, amused chuckle, dark and smooth like aged whiskey. “You’re trembling. Don’t tell me you’re scared of me now, Princess?”

“I—” I opened my mouth, but there were no thoughts.

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and settled it over my shoulders. His breath ghosted over my hair, and then his hand cradled the back of my head, guiding me gently against his chest.

Not for comfort.

For control.

“Sebastian—”

His lips were close, far too close. “You’ll be punished tonight, Princess.”

“W-What..? I did my job—”

“You let him touch you.”

My breath hitched.

“Everyone knows that no one touches what’s mine.”