All Chapters of Sold to the Devil : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The storm arrived without warning.Rain battered the roof of the estate, seeping into the cracks of windows and echoing down the marble halls like the low pulse of a warning drum. Most of the household was tucked away in their quarters, save for the guards and a few lingering servants whispering about the ominous change in weather.Emilia sat by the window of her room, knees drawn to her chest, watching the drops streak across the glass. It was the kind of storm that made everything feel still—even inside her.The events with the wolves had rattled her more than she liked to admit. She hadn’t seen Lillian or Seraphina since that day, but their shadows lingered in the back of her mind. It wasn’t just fear—it was something else. A kind of awareness.Dante had protected her.But she didn’t know why.And that question haunted her more than any snarl or flash of teeth from the wolves ever could.She got up after a while and paced slowly, her bare feet silent against the cold floor. A flash

The soft murmurs and clinking glasses faded under the weight of Dante’s presence. From his place at the top of the grand staircase, he scanned the ballroom, his eyes cold behind the silver mask. The music resumed, but at a gentler tempo—low, haunting notes curling around the chandeliers like smoke. His boots made no sound as he descended.People greeted him with half-bows and subtle nods, whispering his name with reverence or fear—sometimes both. He offered no replies. His mind was elsewhere.Emilia.He hadn't seen her since their conversation at the fireplace. Her question still lingered in his mind. “Do you ever wish to be free?”The fact that she’d asked—so quietly, so sincerely—had rattled something deep inside him. Freedom. A foolish dream in their world. But her voice had made it sound almost real.And now, she was here, somewhere among them. Wearing that simple mask, carrying herself like she didn’t belong—which, in truth, she didn’t. Not among these wolves.His eyes flicked ac

The first thing Emilia became aware of was the scent—sharp, unfamiliar, mixed with expensive cologne and something metallic lingering faintly in the air.Her head throbbed.The room was dim, the ceiling high and arched like a luxury hotel suite, but nothing about the place felt welcoming. No windows. Just warm golden lighting, thick carpets, and ornate, unfamiliar furniture. She was lying on a velvet chaise, a thin blanket draped over her.Panic gripped her chest as the memories began flooding back—The masquerade.Mara’s warning.The girl who wasn’t one of the usual servantsThe offer to help her go home.Her stomach twisted.Stupid. I was so stupid.She sat up suddenly, gasping. Her shoes were gone. Her bracelet was gone. But she was unharmed.Physically, at least.Celeste. It had to be them, she thought bitterly. Lillian. Seraphina. They’d finally snapped and found a way to corner me without Dante seeing.Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a weapon, a phone, a door—anyt

The gates of the Lavellan estate creaked open in the dead of night, groaning under the weight of the stormy wind. Dante stepped out of his car, his face carved from stone, eyes sharp and merciless. He didn’t knock. He didn’t wait. He simply walked—every step slow, sure, and deadly quiet.Guards stationed at the entrance glanced at each other, unsure whether to stop him or flee. No one dared move.Inside the grand estate, the lights were low, the scent of cigars and aged leather clinging to the air. Tristan Lavellan, draped in a tailored silk robe, stood by his liquor cabinet, swirling amber whiskey in a crystal glass.The double doors slammed open.Dante entered like a shadow with a pulse, his coat billowing slightly, soaked from the rain. He stopped only when he was close enough to smell the alcohol in Tristan’s glass.“I take it this is not a social call,” Tristan said, raising a brow.Dante’s voice was ice. “Where is she?”Tristan didn’t flinch. He took a sip, watching Dante over t

The Calhoun estate loomed in the distance like a slumbering beast—grand, beautiful, and shrouded in the kind of silence that warned visitors to tread carefully. Long rows of iron-wrought fences guarded its borders, and cameras panned from the tree line to the tall, double gates that separated the outside world from the powerful empire within.James adjusted his collar, trying to look more composed than he felt. Beside him, Alissa stepped forward, her arms crossed and jaw set, staring at the high-tech security system like it was a personal enemy.“This is it,” she muttered. “This is where she’s being kept like some sort of… of property.”James didn’t reply. His gaze was fixed on the estate, fists clenching at the thought of Emilia—locked behind those gates, surrounded by people who saw her as less than. He took a breath and stepped toward the intercom embedded in the stone post.He pressed the button. A metallic beep followed, then a bored male voice: “State your name and business.”Al