A Deal with the Devil

The warehouse echoed with silence, thick and suffocating. Damon's jaw was tight as he stared at the message again—simple words scrawled on the photo of Olivia's mother, bound and gagged in a dim room.

"Time's ticking. Deliver the girl. Or the next photo comes with blood."

Olivia stood frozen, the image burned into her memory. Her stomach twisted with helpless rage.

"I have to go to them," she whispered.

"No." Damon's voice was sharp, immediate. "That's exactly what they want."

"I'm not letting them kill her!"

"You'll be walking into a trap you won't walk out of." He turned, eyes dark. "And I won't lose you too."

Her heart pounded. "So what, we just wait while they hurt her?"

Damon exhaled slowly. Then his gaze flicked to the side—strategizing. Calculating. "We make a deal. But on our terms."

Olivia blinked. "What kind of deal?"

"The kind that brings monsters to the table."

Later — Downtown Manhattan, Private Club

The doorman barely blinked when Damon handed over a black-embossed card. Inside, the world changed. Velvet-lined walls. Shadowy booths. And predators in thousand-dollar suits sipping thirty-year-old scotch.

A man stood near the back. Cold, elegant. Dangerous.

Valentin Rane.

A name Olivia had only heard whispered—someone not even Vespera dared to cross. And the moment he saw Damon, he smiled like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Well, well. If it isn't the fallen reaper himself."

Damon didn't flinch. "I need a favor."

"Interesting." Rane sipped his drink. "You disappear for three years, resurface with a pretty girl and chaos snapping at your heels. And now you come asking favors?"

Olivia bristled at the word girl, but Damon touched her hand lightly. A silent warning: not yet.

"I need information. Vespera has someone. I want them back."

Rane's gaze flicked to Olivia. "Ah. The heiress. They're getting sloppy."

"Not sloppy. Desperate."

Rane's grin turned wolfish. "Desperate men make delicious enemies."

Damon leaned in. "Help me find where they're keeping her. And I'll give you what you've been chasing for a decade."

Rane stilled. "You don't mean—"

"The key to the shadow vault. The one even Vespera can't open."

Olivia's breath caught. He was offering the ledger.

Rane stared. Then slowly, he said, "You have twelve hours."

Later — Safehouse

"You gave him the vault," Olivia whispered once they were alone. "Why would you do that?"

"I didn't give it. I promised it." Damon's tone was low, careful. "But we both know we can