The rain was merciless that night. It lashed at the city with a fury that felt almost personal, drumming against Elena Carter's umbrella in sharp, stinging bursts. Water streamed down the cracked sidewalks, carrying cigarette butts and scraps of paper into the gutter.
Elena hunched her shoulders, pulling her coat tighter around her. Her boots splashed through shallow puddles as she quickened her pace. The streets were nearly empty—too late for the office workers and too early for the nightlife crowd. The only people out at this hour were those who had nowhere else to go.
Her manager had kept her late again, which meant another long walk home. He always had some excuse: stock deliveries, messy customers, last-minute orders. And Elena, with her quiet voice and unwillingness to argue, was the perfect target.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled it out with one hand, angling it under the umbrella.
Mia. Her best friend.
"El, don't walk alone tonight. They say he's out."
Elena groaned under her breath. She typed quickly, her fingers numb from the cold.
"Mia, please. He's not real. Just another story to scare people."
Still, the words left a shadow in her chest.
The Devil's heir. Everyone in Westbridge had heard the whispers. The man who ruled the city's underworld from the shadows, untouchable, dangerous, powerful. His name was enough to silence conversations, enough to make shopkeepers lock their doors earlier than usual.
Adrian Blackthorn.
Some said he was the son of a mafia king, others swore he was something worse—something not entirely human. Elena had never cared to find out. She wasn't interested in rich men or dangerous men. She was interested in keeping her grades up, paying rent, and saving enough to move out of her moldy apartment one day.
The storm grew heavier, washing neon colors into streaks of red and blue across the street. She hugged her umbrella closer, boots slipping slightly on the slick pavement.
Then she noticed it.
The car.
It slid past her at first, slow and deliberate, its engine humming low like a predator's growl. Glossy black, tinted windows, too sleek for this part of the city.
Elena forced herself not to look. Not to react. People with cars like that had drivers and destinations—none of which included her.
But the car slowed.
Her heart skipped. She gripped the umbrella handle so tightly her knuckles ached.
It matched her pace.
Her breathing turned shallow, sharp. She told herself it was coincidence. She told herself to keep walking. Yet every step made the silence heavier, until the sound of the rain was the only thing keeping her from drowning in dread.
Then the car stopped.
The window rolled down, smooth as silk.
And there he was.
Adrian Blackthorn.
He was everything the rumors promised. Black hair slicked neatly away from a face that was both cruel and beautiful. A jawline too sharp, lips carved with precision, and eyes—piercing gray, calm yet lethal, like blades hidden in ice.
For one heartbeat, Elena forgot how to breathe.
"Get in."
The voice was low, steady, and commanding. It wasn't loud, yet it cut through the storm with ease.
Elena's mouth went dry. "I—I don't even know you."
The corner of his lips twitched, though it wasn't a smile. Not exactly.
"You will."
Her chest tightened. Every instinct screamed no, but her feet refused to move.
"I'm not getting into a stranger's car," she snapped, summoning a courage that sounded much stronger than she felt.
He leaned forward, the faint light of the streetlamp catching on the sharp planes of his face.
"I am no stranger, Elena Carter."
Her blood ran cold.
He knew her name.
Her grip on the umbrella faltered. "How—how do you know who I am?"
His gaze never wavered. "Because I've been watching you."
The words were spoken simply, like a fact, yet they landed with the weight of chains.
Elena's chest rose and fell quickly, her lungs straining against panic. The rain blurred around her, the world shrinking until it was just him and his impossible words.
"This is crazy," she whispered, shaking her head. "I need to go."
She turned sharply, water splashing up her calves, her boots slipping on the slick pavement.
But his voice followed her, steady and unhurried, curling around her like smoke.
"Run if you want. But from this moment on…" His tone dropped lower, darker. "…you belong to me."
Thunder cracked above, splitting the sky. The ground shivered with its echo, but it was nothing compared to the quake inside her chest.
Elena's thoughts screamed liar, danger, escape, yet something deeper whispered something far more dangerous: what if it's true?
Because a part of her—reckless, foolish, impossible—believed him.
And in that moment, as the storm howled around her, Elena Carter's ordinary life ended.