All Chapters of The Reaper's Hidden Heir: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Get your hands off me!" I screamed, kicking hard at the man dragging me down the hallway. My bare feet scraped against the cold floor. Rain still clung to my soaked pajamas, making everything stick to my skin."Shut up, girl. The boss is waiting," the bald guy growled, tightening his grip on my arm until it hurt.I twisted again, heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears."I said let go! Who the hell are you people? This is kidnapping!"Another man stepped out from the shadows near a massive wooden door. He had a scar running down his cheek and eyes that looked dead. "She's feisty, boss might like that."They shoved me through the door into a huge room that smelled like leather and whiskey. A tall man stood by the window, back to me, staring out at the stormy night. Even from behind, he looked like trouble. Broad shoulders, black shirt stretched tight, tattoos peeking out at the collar."Here she is, Damien," the bald guy said, pushing me forward so hard I almost fell. "Isa

My blood ran cold.I pressed my ear against the connecting door, barely breathing. Damien’s voice came through low and sharp on the other side.“Watch her closely, Rico. She’s smarter than she looks. And if any Moretti loyalists come sniffing around tonight, shoot first.”Rico answered with a grunt. “You really think she’s worth all this trouble, boss? She’s soft. Normal girl.”“She’s Marco’s blood,” Damien replied. “That alone makes her dangerous. Keep your eyes on every window, no mistakes.”Footsteps moved away. I backed up fast and sat on the edge of the bed, heart racing. Soft? I’ll show them how soft.A few minutes later, the main door to my room unlocked. A young woman with short black hair and a tray in her hands stepped inside. She looked tough, like she’d seen fights before, but her eyes weren’t cruel.“Boss says you need to eat,” she said, setting the tray on the small table. Simple but it smelled good. “My name is Lena. I work for Mr. Voss.”I stayed sitting, watching h

Damien pulled me through the connecting door into his room, his grip firm on my wrist. The sound of gunfire still popped outside like angry fireworks that wouldn’t stop.“Stay low,” he ordered, shutting the heavy door behind us and locking it. His room smelled like him, dark wood, gun oil, and that sharp cologne. A massive bed sat against one wall, a desk covered with papers and laptops on the other.I yanked my arm free. “Your room? You think I’m sleeping in here with you while people shoot at the house?”He moved to the window, peeking through a small gap in the heavy curtains. “You’re sleeping where I can protect you. End of discussion.”I stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched. “This is crazy. I talked to those men like you wanted. I lied for you. Now you’re dragging me into your bedroom?”Damien turned around. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding but it made him look even more dangerous. “Those men out there don’t care that you lied. They want blood, yours or m

Damien tossed a gun on the bed beside me and moved toward the door. “They’re inside the house now.”“Wait!” I grabbed the cold metal, heart slamming against my ribs. “Don’t leave me here with this, I’ve never shot anything in my life!”He paused at the door, gun already up. “Point and pull the trigger, aim for the chest, don’t hesitate.” His grey eyes locked on mine for one second. “Lock the door after me. Now.”He slipped out. I rushed forward and turned the lock with shaking fingers, the click sounded too loud in the sudden quiet.I backed away from the door, holding the gun with both hands. It felt heavy and wrong. Shouts echoed from downstairs, a man screamed, then a single gunshot cut it short.“Come on, Isabella, think,” I whispered to myself. I moved to the corner beside the bed, where I could see both the main door and the connecting one to my old room.Footsteps pounded in the hallway outside, fast. It started getting closer.“Isabella!” Lena’s voice shouted through th

“Start talking, Isabella. Names, faces, everything.”I sat on the leather chair, legs crossed tight, while Damien loomed over his desk like a judge ready to hand down my sentence. The office smelled of old books and fresh blood from the chaos outside.“Okay,” I said, rubbing my hands on my jeans. “There was this guy at my gallery show three weeks ago, tall, maybe forty, expensive watch. He said his name was Victor. He bought two of my paintings and asked about my family over drinks afterward.”Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Victor what?”“He didn’t give a last name.” I shrugged. “I thought he was just another rich guy trying to flirt. He asked what my dad did. I told him imports and exports, big shipments sometimes. That’s it, I swear.”Damien leaned forward. “What exactly did you say about the shipments?”I closed my eyes, trying to remember. “I said something like ‘Dad gets really excited when a big one comes in. Says it’s going to change everything.’ I was proud, okay? I didn’t know