The Devil's Game 1

The view from the high-rise office should have been breathtaking. The sprawling city bathed in the golden glow of sunset.

Endless skyscrapers reaching for the heavens and a russet color smeared across the sky.

But all Ayra Russo could feel was the tightening grip of dread in her chest, threatening to suffocate her. The pristine glass windows felt like a cage, trapping her in a decision she didn't fully understand.

Despite the warm air spilling from the conditioning unit, the room was cold - far too cold.

Her father sat across the table, his hands trembling slightly as he pushed a crisp sheet of paper toward Ayra.

Ferdinand's voice wavered as he spoke. "It... is for the best, Ayra. You'll be taken care of. This... this is your chance at a better life."

Ayra felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes and clutched the hem of her coat tightly. She scanned her father's face for any shred of remorse - any sign that he regretted what he was doing - but his face was stoic and stern.

Ferdinand's eyes glinted with a mix of emotions but none that resembled guilt. Ayra has never known her father to be such an unfeeling man.

She fingered the pen, hesitant, her heart racing. She had trusted him all her life - her father had never led her astray. Yet something about this felt wrong.

Ayra didn't fully grasp the weight of what was happening. She did not know the why and when of how things came to be.

But the unease gnawing at Ayra's insides told her she was teetering on the edge of something irreversible. Something far bigger than her.

"I don't understand why I have to sign this," she murmured. Her voice was shaking with tears threatening to fall.

Her father's eyes darted away from hers, focusing on the papers again. "It is complicated, Ayra. But this is for the best."

She threw a glance along the length of the polished mahogany table to the man sitting silently at the furthest end. It was Lucian Cyrus, the infamous Director.

Lucian's presence was faint but intense. He hadn't spoken a word since Ayra arrived, but his cold gaze had been on her the entire time-unreadable and calculating- He scared Ayra.

Ayra gathered all the courage she could muster to address him. "Could you give me a reason, Sir? What's the root cause of this?"

Lucian's finger traced the rim of his teacup, gentle but consistent. He stared at Ayra with a quiet sort of intensity that made her heart quiver and her insides lurch.

Lucian seemed very much the broody type and Ayra doubted he would give her an answer.

"I told you, it's complicated, Ayra. I..." Her father butted in.

"He is in debt," Lucian interrupted. "One that runs into millions with an atrocious interest rate. Does that satisfy you?"

Ayra's gaze snapped to her father.

"Debt?" She whispered harshly. "How? When?"

Ayra's father cleared his throat with shame shown on his face. "The debt, Ayra. It's...complicated. This is the only way forward. You'll be safe with him."

She glanced back at Lucian who was now sizing up her father with a ponderous gaze.

Lucian's appearance was deceptively immaculate-perfectly tailored black suit, sharp jawline, dark hair slicked back with not a strand out of place.

Lucian looked like a businessman, not a man whose empire was built on blood and fear.

The coldness in Lucian's eyes told a different story. Ayra could not in good faith judge him as 'safe'.

Breathing deeply, Ayra gazed down at the contract in her hands. Half a minute later, she turned back to her father. Shock and disbelief ran through Ayra.

She desperately searched her father's face for some kind of explanation. "You're selling me off like a piece of property."

"Don't say it like that," her father snapped, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.

"You're not being sold. This is... this is for you too. And the family. Or what? Do you expect not to sacrifice some things for the family after enjoying so much from us?"

Ayra blinked. Her head swimming with the flood of words Ferdinand has been feeding her for weeks.

Ferdinand had painted the arranged marriage as the only solution-a way out of the financial pit he'd dragged them into.

Ferdinand had assured Ayra that she'd be secure, and comfortable. That it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

But none of that felt true now. Ayra blinked back tears. Her throat fighting down a sob as she remembered her elder sister's words to her that very morning.

"All you do is take and take without caring and ounce where it comes from," Lisbeth had said. "But there is no need to worry. Today you give back. Tenfold."

Lisbeth's smile had been less than friendly - downright concerning.

Ayra shut her eyes as she sought to ground herself. She should have known this was coming. She should have seen the signs.

No, Ayra had certainly seen the signs. Yet, she ignored them. But nothing could have prepared her for this.

Vaguely, she could make out her father speaking to Lucian. His voice almost in a whisper as he laid out the terms, but Ayra couldn't focus.

All Ayra could hear was the rush of her blood. The betrayal settling in her bones.

Ayra's gaze slid back to the contract, noting the thick black ink of her name already at the top.

All she had to do was sign at the bottom, and she would all but belong to Lucian.

It felt like the pen weighed a thousand pounds, Ayra's fingers hovering over it but unable to make the final move.

"Just sign, Ayra," her father urged. His voice is softer now, almost pleading. "Please, trust me. It is the best option."

Ayra bit her lip, the pressure building inside her chest. She trusted him-he was her father. But why did this feel like a betrayal? Why did it suddenly seem like everything she knew about him was a lie?

A voice broke the silence. Lucian's.

"I don't have all day." His voice was low, deep, almost a whisper, with a quiet authority that sent a shiver down her spine.

Lucian's eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, Ayra couldn't look away. There was no compassion in his gaze, no warmth - only cold calculation.

This was a transaction to Lucian. Ayra was a transaction.

Ayra's throat tightened. She swallowed hard, fighting the rising panic. She wanted to scream, run, rave and wake from this nightmare.

No one to help her. She was trapped by her father.

Ayra's hand shook as she finally grabbed the pen, her sister's voice echoing in her mind: "You have taken from the family. A little sacrifice is nothing."

She was right, Ayra tried to tell herself. It was just a little sacrifice.

The sound of the pen scratching across the paper felt like the final nail in her coffin.

When Ayra lifted the pen, Lucian reached forward and pulled the contract toward him.

Lucian's fingers brushed the paper, and for a brief second, their eyes met again. There was a flicker of something warm in his eyes - satisfaction, perhaps - but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Sign the contract on your end, Mr. Russo," Lucian said, eyes shifting back to her father. "You've delayed me enough for one day."

Ferdinand's shaking hands fumbled with the paper. His eyes darted nervously between the document and Lucian's impassive face.

Ferdinand hesitated for a second, glancing at Ayra as if to offer a silent apology. But it wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

Ferdinand scribbled his name at the bottom. With that one motion, Ayra's fate was sealed.

"Good," Lucian murmured. He slipped the papers into his briefcase with a finality that made her stomach twist.

"It's done. Your debt is paid," Lucian said to Ferdinand. "The deal is struck. Take care." Then, without another word Lucian stood to leave. He walked out of the office.

"I'd be picking her up on the twenty-eighth," Lucian said as the door clicked shut behind him.

For a brief, foolish second, Ayra stayed rooted to her seat. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. What had she done?

Ayra turned to look at her father and found him pulling out a thick cigar from his coat. His face was composed and showed little remorse.

Ayra put her face to the desk and broke into tears.