All Chapters of Sold to the Devil: His Ruthless Vow: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

96 Chapters

CHAPTER 41 : Two Bullets

The woods were alive with lights.I counted four flashlight beams sweeping through the trees. They were moving in a loose line, closing the net."They found the blood trail," a voice shouted. It was close. Maybe thirty yards.I pressed my back harder against the cold slate of the rock overhang. Beside me, Julian was fading. The crash had taken whatever adrenaline he had left. He was shivering violently, his skin gray and clammy."Vivian," he whispered. His teeth were chattering. "Give me... the gun.""No," I said, keeping my eyes on the approaching lights. "You can't even hold it steady.""Two bullets," he rasped. "If they take us... use the first one on the leader. Use the second one... on me."My heart stopped. I turned to look at him."What?""Don't let Silas take me," he said, his gray eyes pleading. "He won't kill me. He will keep me alive for weeks. He will make me watch what he does to you. Promise me, Vivian."I looked at the gun in my hand. It was heavy, cold steel."I am not

CHAPTER 42 : The Underworld

The tunnel smelled of rust and ancient decay.I dragged Julian across the concrete floor. My arms screamed. My legs felt like lead. But I didn't stop."Stay with me," I whispered into the darkness.Julian didn't answer. His breathing was ragged, a wet rattle in his chest. His skin was burning hot against my shoulder. The infection was spreading fast.We had been walking—stumbling—for an hour. The storm drain had merged into older brick tunnels. We were deep beneath the city. The Underworld."Water," Julian croaked."Soon," I promised. I had no water. I had no food. I had a wet book and a dying husband.I saw a flickering light ahead.I froze. I laid Julian down gently against the damp wall and crept forward.It wasn't a flashlight. It was a fire. A barrel fire.We had found a camp.The tunnel opened up into a large chamber. It looked like an abandoned subway station from the 1920s. Tiles were falling off the walls. There were makeshift tents set up, piles of scavenged junk, and a grou

CHAPTER 43 : Obituary

We emerged from the bowels of the station into the chaos of the Grand Central food court.The noise hit us first—a wall of voices, clattering plates, and announcements. Then the smell of coffee and burnt bagels.I pulled the hood of my dirty sweatshirt up. I had cleaned the worst of the mud off Julian’s face in the boiler room, but he still looked like a dead man walking. He was pale, sweating, and leaning heavily on my shoulder.To anyone passing by, we looked like two junkies coming down from a high. People didn't stare. They looked away. In New York, misery is invisible."Keep your head down," I whispered, gripping his waist tight.We moved toward the exit, weaving through the morning commuters.I saw a group of people gathered around a large television screen mounted above a coffee shop. They were silent, watching the news ticker.I glanced up.My blood froze.On the screen was a photo of Julian. It was his official corporate headshot—arrogant, handsome, untouched.The headline fl

CHAPTER 44 : The Stacks

The Archives were silent. A tomb of paper and dust.We were three floors underground, in a restricted section that housed city records dating back to the 1800s. The air was cool and dry—perfect for preserving paper, and perfect for keeping a fever down.I had made a bed for Julian on a stack of canvas drop cloths in the narrow aisle between Row 42 and Row 43. I had cleaned his wound with antiseptic from the staff breakroom and managed to get some water into him.Now, he slept. His breathing was shallow but steady.I sat on the floor under the dim light of a single bulb, the Ledger heavy in my lap.Open the back cover, he had said. Rip it open.I ran my fingers over the leather binding. It was old, cracked leather. I took my pocketknife and carefully sliced the stitching on the inside of the back cover.It peeled away.Hidden between the leather and the cardboard stiffener was a single, folded piece of yellowed paper.I unfolded it.It wasn't a list of names. It was a birth certificate

CHAPTER 45 : Dressed to Kill

"Where are we going to find a tuxedo in a library at three in the morning?" Julian asked.He was sitting on a crate in the staff breakroom, his face gray with exhaustion."The Theatre on Film and Tape Archive," I said. "Third floor. They have a collection of costumes donated by Broadway productions.""You want me to wear a costume?""I want you to look like Julian Thorne," I said. "And right now, you look like a corpse fished out of the Hudson."I left him there and took the service stairs.The third floor was dark and silent. I navigated by memory to the Special Collections storage. The air here smelled of mothballs and old velvet.I scanned the racks. I needed something classic. Nothing flashy. I found a garment bag labeled "1950s Tuxedo - Black." I unzipped it. It was heavy wool, immaculate.I grabbed another bag for myself. A deep midnight-blue silk gown. It was simple, elegant, and dark enough to hide bloodstains.I carried the stolen finery back down to the basement.Julian was d

CHAPTER 46 : The Winter Gala

The yellow taxi rattled as it pulled up to the curb on Fifth Avenue.Ahead of us, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was glowing like a palace of ice. Spotlights swept the sky. A massive tent had been erected over the famous steps, shielding the red carpet from the winter wind.A line of black limousines stretched for three blocks, dropping off the city’s elite. Women in diamonds and men in tuxedos were flashing smiles for the wall of paparazzi."We can't just walk up the carpet," I said, watching from the backseat of the cab. "They check the list at the bottom of the stairs."Julian adjusted his cufflinks. He looked at the chaos outside with a calm, predatory focus."We aren't going to the bottom of the stairs," Julian said. "Driver, the service entrance on 80th Street."The cabbie grunted and pulled away, leaving the flashing cameras behind.We got out at the employee entrance. A security guard in a heavy coat was checking the IDs of the catering staff."ID?" the guard asked as we appro

CHAPTER 47 : The Verdict

The silence in the Great Hall was suffocating.Silas Vencetti stared at Julian, his face a mask of shock that was quickly cracking into rage. Beside him, Mayor Penhaligon—the Broker—looked like he was about to vomit."Julian," Silas said, his voice tight. "We... we were told you were dead. The car crash...""I'm sure you were heartbroken," Julian said coldly.He stepped closer, the crowd parting around him like water."You seem to be celebrating early, Silas. I assume that’s why you’re drinking my reserve vintage? And standing with the Mayor?"Julian turned his gaze to the Mayor."Evening, Arthur. I didn't know you chose sides. I thought the Broker was neutral."The Mayor swallowed hard, adjusting his bow tie. "I... I am neutral, Mr. Thorne. I am merely attending a civic function.""Is that what this is?" Julian asked. "A civic function? Or a coronation?""You're making a scene," Silas snapped. "You're drunk, Julian. Or high. Look at you—you're wearing a costume. Security!"He waved h

CHAPTER 48 : The Longest Night

The world became a blur of flashing lights and screaming sirens.I didn't let go of Julian’s hand. Not when the paramedics swarmed us on the museum floor. Not when they cut the vintage tuxedo off his body. Not when they loaded him onto the stretcher."Ma'am, you have to step back!" a paramedic yelled as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance."I am his wife!" I screamed, shoving past him. I climbed into the back. My blue silk dress was ruined, stained dark with his blood. I didn't care.Julian was conscious, but barely. His face was translucent. The oxygen mask fogged with every shallow breath."Vivian..." he mumbled, his eyes fluttering."I'm here," I said, gripping his cold hand. "I'm right here. Don't you dare close your eyes, Julian Thorne. Do you hear me? You don't get to die now. We just won."He tried to smile, but his eyes rolled back. The heart monitor began to beep—a fast, erratic rhythm that made my own heart stop."We're losing pressure!" the medic shouted. "Driver

CHAPTER 49 : Breach of Contract

Three weeks later, the snow was falling again.It coated the balcony of the Thorne Tower penthouse, turning the city below into a soft, white blur. The glass had been replaced. The blood had been scrubbed from the carpets. The smell of smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of expensive leather and polished wood.Everything was back to normal.Except us.I walked into the living room carrying a tray of coffee. Julian was standing by the window, staring out at the grey skyline. He was wearing black sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that showed the heavy bandaging on his shoulder.He looked better. The color had returned to his face, and he was moving without the cane now, though he still favored his left side.But the silence between us was louder than the construction crews fixing the lobby downstairs."Coffee," I said, setting the tray on the table.He turned. "Thank you."He didn't look at me. He walked over to the desk—his command center—and picked up a thick manila envelope."I have s

CHAPTER 50 : The New King

Three months later.Spring had arrived in New York, washing away the gray slush of winter. The city felt cleaner, lighter.The Thorne Tower penthouse was fully restored. The bullet holes were patched, the bloodstains replaced with Persian rugs. It was a fortress again, shining under the sun.I sat at the mahogany desk in the study—Julian’s study, though he now insisted we share it. I was reviewing grant applications for the newly expanded Thorne Library Foundation. I was wearing a cream-colored silk blouse and tailored trousers. The cardigan-wearing librarian was gone. In her place was Mrs. Vivian Thorne, a woman who commanded respect in boardrooms and charity galas alike.The door opened, and Julian walked in.He stopped, leaning against the doorframe, watching me. He looked healthier than he had in years. The shadows under his eyes were gone. The tension that used to vibrate off him like a plucked wire had smoothed into a quiet, lethal confidence. He was no longer a cornered animal f

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