a deal.

Aria's POV

"Aria!" Sarah's voice cracked like a whip, yanking me back to reality as she lunged forward. "Where the hell have you been?" No pause for answers. "I thought you were dead in a ditch. Again." Her blue eyes flickered, concern morphing into flat-out panic.

"Sorry." I bit out, dragging her into a hug. The pounding music of the club dulled for a moment as I sank into her warmth, but even in the stillness, my mind was far from calm. He was still there—lurking, lingering, sinking his claws into me like an unshakable curse.

What the hell did he do to me?

The bastard's phantom still clawed at the back of my skull. Every second of the last twenty minutes looped, relentless—his smirk, his voice, his hands.

His fingerprints branded my skin.

That smug, knife-sharp grin. That smoke-and-sin voice scraping my nerves raw. The heat of him—close enough to choke on—that almost turned my bones to liquid.

If I'd been blind or had my memories of him wiped. I might've spread my legs right there—shamelessly.

But I wasn't.

And I remembered.

Yet even now, muscles trembling, hate boiling like acid in my veins, something rotted deeper. Something slick and hungry. My cunt throbbed, aching with the fire he'd lit and left me to smolder. I'd let it fester before I'd let him win.

And that job offer? The one that used to be mine… Dangled like a fucking piñata, wrapped in his sleaze-coated "condition"? God, he was vile. Knew exactly what I craved and shoved it in my face, grinning. But the worst part? The itch in my fists to take it. Not just for the paycheck—but for the chance to shove that power down his throat. To make him choke on it.

I saw something else in his offer—something more than just humiliation. Control.

I could make him pay for underestimating me. I could make him regret ever thinking I was insignificant.

I had so much hatred inside me, buried for years, festering. If he wanted it, I would give him all of it. I would carve my name into his fucking soul and see if he could handle that.

He wasn't wrong. I wanted to gut him. Wanted to peel back his arrogance and watch him squirm. But doing it under him? It made me hesitate a little. Only God knows how twisted he was.

"Are you okay?"

Sarah's voice snapped me back. She was studying me closely, worry etched into every crease of her face.

"You suddenly went quiet," she added.

I forced a smirk, shrugging off the storm inside me. "Just thinking."

The villain invaded me—haunted me—without even trying His voice, his touch, his arrogance. That damn offer.

My fingers twitched, itching for another cigarette. I patted my body for my lighter but it was gone. Shit. I must have dropped it there, I thought. There was no way I could go back to retrieve it.

My lips still burned with the ghost of his smirk. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. And yet, beneath that burning hatred, something else lurked—something dark, something reckless, something that wanted to pull that arrogant smirk off his face with my own teeth.

I exhaled sharply.

I need another drink.

And for the first time that night, I realized something terrifying.

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Before I let myself be poured another drink, my phone buzzed violently in my bag. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Michael. That damned coward.

I didn't hesitate to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.

"What?" I breathed. But instead of his deep, familiar voice, a softer one filtered through the line.

"Aria, it's Olivia." My stomach clenched at the urgency in her tone.

"The hospital just called," she continued, voice unsteady. "It's mom—her condition worsened."

A hollow, icy weight settled deep in my chest.

"How bad?" My voice came out strangled.

"I don't know… I'm still on my way to the hospital. But they mentioned that she might need surgery sooner than expected." Olivia hesitated. "Come meet me there."

The world around me blurred. The flashing club lights, the pulse of music, Sarah's worried face—it all faded as reality crashed over me like a tidal wave.

The surgery. The one I was still saving to pay for. The previous surgery my mom had, I took a loan to pay it and hadn't balanced it off yet so I couldn't risk another.

I had nothing. No job now. Little to non-existent savings due to fucking bills left and right. No time.

And my mother…

"I'm on my way," I said, shoving past Sarah before she could protest.

I sprinted out of the club, the cold night air slapping against my skin as I rushed toward the street, desperation clawing at my throat.

I needed money. Now.

And the devil had just offered me a deal.