Emily’s POV

Saturday. No school. No suffocating classrooms or fake smiles. But that doesn’t mean I get to rest—rest is a luxury I can’t afford.

I have two part-time jobs, working myself to the bone just to survive. The world doesn’t slow down for people like me. No safety nets. No second chances.

Lately, though, I’ve had this unsettling feeling. Like I’m being watched. Eyes lingering on me from the shadows, following me when I walk home at night. But I always shake it off. Who would waste their time watching me? I’m nobody.

I live alone. My parents died in a car crash on my birthday. My fault. I kept calling them, begging them to come home early. I was selfish. If I could go back, I’d cut off my own hands before dialing their number. Maybe then they’d still be here.

But fate has never been kind to me. Everyone I love dies. My parents. The dog they got me when I was eight. Gone. I think I’m cursed.

When my parents died, my so-called relatives didn’t even look my way. I was dumped in an orphanage at fourteen. Left to rot. And I did rot. In ways no one ever saw.

Now I’m eighteen. Legally an adult. Legally on my own. I saved enough to rent a tiny apartment, a place I call "home," though it barely feels like one. I work like hell to keep it.

New York’s cold bites through me as I throw on jeans, a crop top, and my jacket. Checking the time—shit. I’m late. I grab some toast and an Americano before locking up and heading out.

Work. Survival. Repeat.

My first job is at a pharmacy. It pays enough, and that’s all that matters.

"Hey, girl, what’s up?" I greet Salley, my coworker—the only person in my life who feels somewhat like a friend.

"Hi, pumpkin pie. Aww, I missed you!" she grins, always bold, always full of life. I envy that.

Then her expression shifts—nervous. Weird. Salley never gets nervous.

"Emily, I need a favor."

I raise an eyebrow. "You never ask me for favors. What’s up?"

She hesitates. "I have a date at ten. Can you cover for me?"

She didn’t even have to ask. "Sure. But you better tell me how it goes."

She chuckles. "Of course! But seriously, you should find a guy too. You can’t be single forever."

I force a smile. She doesn’t know. No one knows.

I don’t do love. I don’t do attachment. The last time I let my guard down, a worker at the orphanage proved just how powerless I was. That night still haunts me, creeping into my dreams, reminding me why I can never let anyone close.

"I'm fine, Salley. Go enjoy your date."

I force her out before she can start one of her endless lectures.

Nightfall. The Club.

After my shift ends at noon, I head home for a few hours of peace before my second job. If you can call bartending in a high-end club "peace."

Most of the workers here… they don’t just serve drinks. They offer "extra services" for the right price. They sneer at me because I refuse to do the same. Because I’m not one of them.

Not that I belong anywhere.

Tonight, we’re expected to look "presentable" since some important figures are having a meeting here. I slip into a silk blue dress, my stomach twisting with unease. Something feels off tonight.

And I’m right.

I get assigned to the VIP section—a first. Usually, I stay behind the bar, unseen, unnoticed. But tonight, there’s no escaping the eyes that will roam over me like I’m a possession.

I carry the drinks to the VIP table, my heels clicking against the polished floor. A long table, a gathering of men in suits—power, danger, wealth.

But one of them… one of them steals the breath from my lungs.

A man in a black suit, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal tattoos licking up his forearms. He radiates dominance, a quiet, terrifying power. He isn’t just one of them. He’s above them. Their king.

His eyes—gray, piercing, lethal. They lock onto me like a predator sizing up its prey. My hands tremble as I place the drinks down.

I should leave. I need to leave.

But as I turn, a rough hand grabs my wrist.

"Where are you going, pretty thing?" A man sneers—one of the others. Not him.

I freeze. His hand is heavy. Possessive. And he’s wearing a gun.

"P-please let go," I whisper.

He chuckles darkly, dragging me closer. "Why? Am I making your little pussy wet?" His breath reeks of alcohol. "Come to the back with me. I’ll make it worth your while."

Tears sting my eyes. This can’t be happening. I glance around, searching for help, but the others just watch—amused.

Then, I meet his gaze. The man in the black suit. His gray eyes don’t waver. He sees me. He sees my fear. And yet, he does nothing.

Cold. Unmoved. Unforgiving.

But then, finally, he speaks.

"Leave the girl, Niko."

His voice is deep, laced with an accent—Russian.

The grip on my wrist loosens immediately. Niko scoffs but lets me go, stepping back. I don’t wait. I run.

My heart pounds as I reach the back room, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. But even as I try to calm myself, I feel it.

That presence.

That gaze.

And I know—this isn’t the last time I’ll see him.

Because the devil has just laid eyes on me. And devils don’t let go.





Her dress:

Hey, my loves!

So this was the first chapter—hope you all enjoyed it! Don’t be a silent reader; I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let me know what you think, what you loved, and even what I can improve.

This is my first time writing, so I know I might make mistakes, but I’m here to grow! Feel free to drop your feedback.

I’ll update soon. Stay tuned! ♡