2: Master Asmodeus

MIA

I gasped and jerked up when cold water splashed hard on my face.

I coughed violently, gasping for breath and shivering from the cold water.

“Wake up, thief!” A voice snapped, and my heart stopped.

I was still alive, and I was still stuck in this gruesome nightmare.

My head dropped in frustration, and I broke into a silent cry, my tears mixing with the water that rolled down my face and dampened the shirt I was wearing.

“You're awake,” a dark voice muttered.

Silence fell in the room again. It was so loud that the only thing I could hear was my ragged breath.

“Leave. I want to speak with her alone,” the voice came again, darker than the first.

Everyone began to leave the room, so silent that it felt like they were walking on eggshells.

My eyes narrowed to the ground, and the black leather shoes caught my gaze.

My chest tightened in fear, and I swallowed hard, gripping my cold, cuffed hands.

“Look at me!” The man spat, his voice filled with authority.

I slowly lifted my head, and my breath ceased as I stared into the cold jade eyes glaring at me from across the table.

This was not the first time I was hearing about the master with the jade eyes. But this was the first time I was seeing him.

The Lycan king. A cartel Lord. A ruthless killer. A beast from hell. A cursed son of the legendary Nox lineage of the BloodMoon Pack.

Everyone knew who that was– Asmodeus Nox.

People believed Asmodeus wasn't his name, but it was so powerful and relatable to his behavior that it overshadowed whatever his birth name was.

How did I get into trouble with a man like this?

I gulped hard and quickly lowered my head, unable to hold his gaze.

“You were the one who stole from me,” he muttered, causing my heart to drop into the deepest part of my stomach.

The air was tighter than usual, and my body seemed frozen in time.

“You really have a lot of guts,” he muttered, his voice icy and almost killing.

I gripped my hands tighter, screaming within me that I did nothing. He would never believe me. No one would. But I still had to try.

“I would never cross you… sir,” I whispered in a trembling voice.

I slowly looked up at him, my throat knotting.

“I… I didn't do it. You have to believe me, please,” I added.

Silence fell over the room as tears cascaded down my face.

He stared coldly at me, his eyes unreadable and his gaze piercing, giving nothing.

He sighed and tilted his head back, his eyes shifting away from my face for the first time.

He slowly got up and began to trudge towards me while wiping off the blood on his knuckles with a handkerchief.

My heart jumped in my throat, and fear gripped me from all sides as I stared at the blood on his knuckles. The blood obviously didn't belong to him.

His eyes flickered in my direction, and my breath hitched in my throat.

He smirked and leaned towards me, his lips curving in disgust.

“I didn't ask you that, did I?” He whispered, hitting my face with his hot breath that caused chills to break out on my back.

“No-no,” I stuttered.

“Good.”

He straightened up and dumped the bloodstained handkerchief before me.

“Do you know what happens to people who disrespect me?” He asked.

I looked up at him, wondering whether it was safe to answer the question.

“I… I have no idea,” I stammered.

My heart raced as silence trailed after my answer.

He slowly craned his neck towards me, his eyes narrowing.

“I make them bleed,” he muttered.

My heart churned in dismay, and I gripped my trembling knees.

He picked up the handkerchief and began to wipe his knuckles again.

“Some of them bleed till they die, some of them bleed till they're bedridden, and some of them bleed and live with the scars for the rest of their lives,” he said, his back turned to me.

I gripped my knees tightly, struggling to breathe.

I gasped out as he spun around and leaned towards me.

“You are one of them. You disrespected my family heirloom,” he whispered, and my stomach dropped.

I sucked in breath, clenching my jaw in despair.

How could I bleed for a crime I didn't commit? How?

I looked up at his back, risking my life again.

“I swear I did not steal anything. This is all a setup,” I cried out.

His lips turned up, his gaze still cold.

“No one cares if you did it or not. All they care about is what I tell them, what I want them to believe. The offender can't go unpunished…” he paused and gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his piercing eyes.

“Since you're the one in the centre of all this, you will have to take the fall and pay for your crimes,” he muttered, and my stomach clenched.

This wasn't about who did it. This was about who would take the fall for it.

“You know I didn't do it, yet you want to have me killed. Why?” I whispered.

He straightened up, chuckling as he strode over to the chair.

“You don't want to die?” He asked.

“No!” I shook my head.

I had to live. For the sake of my massacred family, I had to live.

He sat down and pulled his head back, his leg crossed over the other.

I pulled out a fat cigar, lit it, then took a drag.

He blew the choking smoke at me and leaned forward.

“Then choose. Between going to prison or me…”

My eyes dimmed, and I jerked my head back in confusion.

“What?”

He flicked the ash off the butt of the cigar and squinted.

“If you don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison, then you will have to accept the condition I offer to you.”

I hesitated for a moment, his words echoing in my head.

I battled with my mind, wondering whether to accept whatever he wanted.

“What is your condition?” I asked.

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing over me with sinister glee.

“You will become my Luna and breeder to the Pack, but a slave in my house in reality for the rest of your life,” he said, and my heart stopped.

He leaned forward, his eyes snapping right at me.

“So… Miai Perez, which way do you choose to spend the rest of your life?”

I gulped hard and gripped my sweaty hands.

All the betrayal and pain I had drowned in for years came rushing into my head.

I looked up at him, my heart clenching.

“I, Mia Perez, accept your condition.”