Did The Weekend Sell His Soul Novels & Stories

"That's the point." I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. I rode down in silence, with my mind spinning. When I stepped outside, the night air felt heavier than before. I walked back to my car, with my hands shaking. I'd thought I was borrowing money. I'd thought I was solving a problem. But I had just sold my soul, and now the Syndicate owns me. I sat in the driver's seat and stared at the steering wheel. Two weeks to fix Blackbridge.

This will take forever. At least it was the weekend ahead and I had a couple of days to snap and post before I had to go to campus on Monday. I worked hard that weekend, I posted a lot and sold a couple of my items fast. I keep track of the money and calculated it for my tuition. Damn! This is going too slow. I'm so exhausted. I decided to drink, still got my stash of liquor at the bar. Thank god I did a lot of partying before. Hmm...maybe I can sell this.

"Your savior." "What the hell do you mean by that?" I wanted to laugh at his ridiculing subject but I was too damn afraid to be laughing my ass right now. His eyes never break with mine and as my eyes travel down to his lips, I remember the faint kiss that woke me up the last, last night. I know I am damn- stupid to be thinking about that right now. "You sold your soul to me before you died." This time, I laughed—hard. What is this comic shit that he is talking about? I watched how Johnny, the ghost rider, sold his soul to the devil, but that is a movie! "You are funny. You think I am going to believe that?"

My hands were shaking so hard I couldn't get the key in the ignition. I pulled out my phone. I unblocked a number. Not Evans’s. I typed a message to Atlas Thorpe. Me: I’ll be ready at 7. I hit send before I could vomit. I had saved Evans. I had saved my scholarship. But as I looked at the black screen of my phone, reflecting my own tired, empty eyes, I knew the truth. I had just sold my soul to the devil. And the devil wore a varsity jacket.

she whispered. I shook my head, and she huffed out a sour laugh. “The Duncans.” She bit out the name. I turned my head to face her and saw her grind her teeth. “Did you know that her father literally sold his soul to the Chinese?” My eyes widened. “He… um… what?” She moved her chair closer and lowered her voice as she spoke. “I heard that Gregory Duncan was on the verge of bankruptcy about twelve years ago. Then someone from the Triads made him an offer. From that moment on, he was that boss's bitch.”

"Wake up Camila. I overheard Father talking to a strange man about you." Camila eyes blink open, "What do you mean." She sat up right facing her little brother that was on his knees. "Yes Camila, I over heard them making some deals concerning you. Father plans on having you auctioned." Dante report had sent cold spikes down her spine, her soul and her heart. She could hardly believe it. Camila knows Father has become more complacent, spending all his money on alcohol, drugs and gambling brothels. But she hadn't guessed father will be so cruel as to selling her to an unknown stranger just so he could pay up his debts. Tears gush out of her eyes.

"Tell him your self, and uh, Sarah dinner is ready" "Already had dinner" I replied " Well goodnight" she said and exit the room. I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, then I thought about the bar, I just could not believe that my uncle is a human trafficker. Who knows how long he had been into this business, how many girls he had sold, I was pretty sure he made good money from selling those girls, I remembered my mom had once told me that Delvin was ready to sell his soul to the devil just to get money, and now I would have to get used to what was going on, I snarled in disgust as I thought of his inhumanity.

The transition into a late Sunday occurs with a heavy finality. Isaac Corres struggled with the reality of parting from Santiago Vega after their weekend sanctuary of skin and scent. The drive toward San Antonio International Airport felt like a countdown to an ending. Santiago considered begging Isaac to abandon his life and follow him to California, knowing his pro career was drifting that way, but the words remained lodged in his throat.

“Can we at least take a breather?” He winked, nudging me playfully. There was a newfound glimmer in his eyes, a sparkle of something that gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, he had never planned on going against his promises before. Maybe he got a little off track. I liked to imagine, though, that this case had sparked something in him. And I hoped beyond hope that it lasted. “That’s what the weekend is for,” he said. “And speaking of which, it is Friday, after all. And I’m thirsty.”