Chapter 11 – The Devil’s Shadow

The Devil's Shadow

The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke, the remnants of torches still burning along the outskirts of Black Hollow. Eleanor, Maria, and Victor moved swiftly through the narrow streets, their hearts pounding as they made their way to the safehouse. Lucian had let them go, but for how long?

Maria limped slightly, clutching her ribs where she had been thrown against the stone pillar. Victor, still pale from the ritual's aftereffects, walked beside her in silence.

Eleanor's mind raced with Lucian's final words. You have a fire in you, and I want to see how brightly it burns before I snuff it out.

She clenched her fists. He was watching her now.

Waiting for her to make a mistake.

Waiting for her to come to him.

They reached the safehouse—a decrepit inn long abandoned by its previous owners. Eleanor pushed open the door, scanning the room. Zane was already there, pacing. Father Gabriel sat in the corner, flipping through a worn leather book, his face creased with worry.

Zane turned sharply as they entered. "What the hell happened?"

Maria dropped onto a wooden bench, exhaling sharply. "Lucian."

Zane's jaw clenched. "Tell me something I don't know."

Victor sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair. "It worked." He looked up at them, disbelief in his eyes. "The ritual. It actually worked."

Zane's gaze flickered to Eleanor. "And now?"

Eleanor hesitated. "Now… he's watching."

Father Gabriel finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "That means we don't have much time." He closed his book and met Eleanor's gaze. "You need to be careful, child."

Eleanor sat beside Maria, her exhaustion finally settling in. "Careful won't be enough."

Maria leaned forward. "We need to strike first."

Zane let out a humorless laugh. "And how do you suggest we do that? He's not just a man. He's—"

"A devil," Eleanor finished. "I know."

Silence fell over the group.

Father Gabriel studied her closely. "You've changed."

Eleanor glanced at him. "We all have."

Gabriel sighed. "That's not what I meant. The fire in your eyes, the way you speak about him… be wary, Eleanor. He is dangerous, yes, but so is the path you're walking."

Eleanor's chest tightened, but she said nothing.

Because deep down, she knew he was right.

The Devil's Temptation

That night, Eleanor couldn't sleep.

She sat by the window, staring into the darkness. The town was quiet, but the silence was too perfect. Like a held breath.

He's here.

The thought sent a shiver through her.

And then—a whisper.

Soft. Just beyond the glass.

She turned sharply, her breath catching.

Lucian stood just beyond the courtyard, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees. Watching her.

Eleanor knew she should run. Should wake the others.

But instead… she opened the door.

She stepped into the night, the air thick and cool against her skin. She was making a mistake.

And yet, she kept walking.

Lucian didn't move as she approached. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim moonlight, unreadable.

"You shouldn't be here," Eleanor said quietly.

Lucian smirked. "And yet, here you are."

She swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate. "You already know the answer to that."

A shiver ran down her spine.

"You should be running from me," he murmured. "So why aren't you?"

Eleanor's fingers curled into fists. "Because I'm not afraid of you."

Lucian tilted his head. "You should be."

He took a step closer. Eleanor held her ground.

His voice dropped, almost intimate. "Do you feel it, Eleanor? The thread between us?"

She hated how her pulse quickened.

Lucian chuckled softly. "You do."

Eleanor forced herself to glare at him. "You're playing games."

Lucian smirked. "No, darling. I'm making an offer."

Eleanor stiffened. "I don't want your offers."

Lucian leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Not yet."

Her heart pounded as he reached for her injured hand, his fingers brushing over the bandages.

"You bled for him," he murmured. "Would you bleed for me?"

Eleanor pulled away, stepping back. "I will never be yours."

Lucian's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.

He lifted his hand—and the mark on her wrist burned.

Eleanor gasped, clutching her wrist.

Lucian's voice was soft, almost reverent. "You're already mine, Eleanor. You just don't know it yet."

She gritted her teeth, shoving past the pain. "We'll see about that."

Lucian exhaled a quiet laugh. "Indeed, we will."

And then—he was gone.

Eleanor staggered back, breathing hard.

The thread between them was growing stronger.

And she didn't know how much longer she could fight it.

To Be Continued…