All Chapters of The Devil's Debt : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The first thing Ayla noticed was the silence.Not the kind you get when you turn off the TV or shut a door — this was a deeper, heavier kind. The kind that swallowed the air in your lungs and made your skin crawl. And in that silence, as she stepped into her ransacked apartment, she knew one thing:Mason had done something unforgivable.The drawers were ripped open, her laptop smashed on the floor, her emergency cash gone. The books she’d stacked by color and genre were scattered like someone had been looking for something — something important. Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone, only to find it missing from her coat pocket.He’d dragged her into something. Again. But this time, it wasn’t petty theft or borrowed rent money.This was bigger. And judging by the mess, far more dangerous.She backed toward the door—And didn’t hear them enter.Two men. Suits. Black gloves. Faces that looked like they’d broken more bones than smiles.“Ayla Monroe?” one asked, though they clear

The SUV waited at the curb like a black shark — sleek, armored, and silent.Ayla stepped into it under the cold morning sun, flanked by two men in tactical black. No introductions. No explanation. Just a nod and a weapon holstered visibly beneath a coat sleeve.Lucian didn’t ride with her.Of course not.This wasn’t a negotiation. This was a test. One she wasn’t supposed to pass — just survive.As the doors locked behind her, she clutched the folder tighter. Inside were the details of a shell company fronting as a humanitarian non-profit. Donations in. Weapons out. Her job was simple: confirm the shipment location, verify the money trail, and report back.But simple never meant safe. Especially in his world.---They drove through downtown Manhattan and out toward the warehouses hugging the Jersey docks. Fog rolled thick across the bay, casting the port in a soft gray silence that felt all too familiar.It reminded her of the night her father died.Ayla clenched her jaw. No time for t

The limo door opened into a blur of light, music, and masked faces. Ayla stepped out onto the cobbled drive of the Serrano estate, her heels clicking softly against stone polished to a mirror finish. Above her, chandeliers flickered beneath a vast glass dome, casting broken stars across the arriving guests. Everything reeked of power and decadence.Her mask — crafted in deep black velvet, lined with silver embroidery — clung to her face like second skin. Lucian’s note had come with a final line: “The devil doesn’t wear horns. He wears charm. Find his weakness.”Ayla exhaled slowly. She was no longer Ayla Monroe. Not here.Tonight, she was a ghost.Inside, the gala pulsed with orchestrated elegance. Women in gowns worth more than Ayla’s rent glided past men with blood-stained hands wrapped in Armani. Waiters floated by with champagne. It would’ve been beautiful if she didn’t know who half these people were — or what they’d done to get here.Lucian’s voice echoed in her mind: “Serrano t

The next morning, the jet sliced through the sky like a whispered promise, dark and silent, carrying Ayla into the heart of a city that shimmered with history—and hidden knives.Prague.From the moment she stepped off the plane, the air tasted colder. Not just in temperature, but in the quiet menace that seemed to cling to every stone alley, every glinting cathedral spire. Lucian’s parting words haunted her: “Trust no one. Not even me.” They played in a loop, a sinister lullaby.She didn’t have time to dwell. A black car waited near the runway, idling like it knew her name. The driver—silent, built like a boxer, face unreadable—opened the door without a word.Inside the car was a leather folder. Her name etched on the cover in silver ink. She opened it cautiously.OPERATION: VELVET DAGGERTarget: Viktor Novák. Czech arms financier. Connected to Serrano’s European network. Allegedly supplies weapons to breakaway factions in Eastern Europe and West Africa.Objective: Secure Novák’s clie

The city whispered as she walked. Footsteps echoed behind her—soft, then gone. The kind that weren’t meant to be heard. She didn’t flinch. Just tightened her coat, adjusted the blade in her boot, and kept her pace even. A test, maybe. Or a message. Either way, she wasn’t afraid. She was done being afraid. Back at the apartment, Ayla peeled off her gloves and stared at the drive sewn inside the seam. She didn’t remove it. Not yet. Not until she knew where every road it pointed to began—and where they ended. She poured another glass of water, but this time she didn’t drink it. Just stood there, watching condensation crawl down the side like time itself was melting. Lucian had changed the rules. Again. But so had she. She thought about the queen chess piece. The one he’d used to summon her. The one she’d carried in her pocket like a challenge. It sat now on the nightstand, staring at her like a reflection. “You’re in the system now,” he’d said. But systems had weaknesses. And sh