Chapter 5 The Devil's Bargain

Three days passed in a haze of luxury and captivity. Adrian left early each morning and returned late each night, always with blood on his hands that no amount of expensive soap could wash away. I could smell it on him - the metallic tang of violence, the weight of decisions that cost lives.

He never told me what he was doing, but I knew. He was hunting the people who had killed Marina Volkov. The people who wanted to use me as a weapon against him.

The people who were dying because of me.

"You're brooding again," Margaret observed, setting down a tray of afternoon tea. "It's becoming a habit."

"I'm thinking," I corrected, though she wasn't wrong. I'd spent the last three days pacing my gilded cage like a caged animal, beautiful and restless and slowly going insane.

"About what?"

"About how many people are going to die because of me." I turned from the window where I'd been watching the city move below. "About how I'm just sitting here doing nothing while Adrian tears the city apart looking for my father's killers."

"You're staying alive," Margaret said firmly. "That's not nothing."

"It's not enough."

"It's what Mr. Blackwood needs from you."

"What about what I need?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "What about what I want?"

Margaret's expression softened. "What do you want, Elena?"

The question hung in the air between us. What did I want? A week ago, I would have said freedom. Safety. A normal life where the most dangerous thing I faced was a difficult art history lecture.

Now...

"I want to help him," I admitted. "I want to be useful for something other than hiding."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"By giving him what he wants." I met her eyes. "By remembering what my father told me."

It was a lie, but a necessary one. I hadn't remembered anything new about my father's final days. But I had been thinking, piecing together fragments of overheard conversations and half-glimpsed documents.

My father had been more than just a businessman with connections to the underground. He'd been a keeper of secrets, a man who held information that could topple empires.

And before he died, he'd hidden something. Something important enough to kill for.

"What did he tell you?" Margaret asked.

"That if anything ever happened to him, I should trust only one person." I smiled, the expression feeling strange on my face. "Adrian Blackwood."

It was another lie, but Margaret didn't need to know that. She smiled back, pleased.

"I'll tell him you want to see him when he returns."

"Thank you."

She left me alone with my tea and my plans. Because I did have a plan, one that had been forming in my mind for days. It was dangerous, possibly suicidal, but it was better than waiting for Adrian to grow tired of protecting me.

Better than waiting for him to decide I was more trouble than I was worth.

Adrian returned that evening covered in rain and shadows. His expensive suit was immaculate, but there was something dark in his eyes that spoke of violence recently committed.

"You wanted to see me," he said without preamble.

"Yes." I stood from where I'd been curled on the couch, smoothing down the silk dress I'd chosen carefully. "I want to make a deal."

His eyebrows rose. "A deal?"

"I want to be useful. I want to help you find the people who killed my father." I stepped closer, close enough to smell the danger on his skin. "And I think I know how."

"I'm listening."

"My father kept files. Physical files, not digital ones. He didn't trust computers, said they were too easy to hack." I paused, letting the lie settle between us. "Before he died, he told me where they were hidden."

Adrian's eyes sharpened. "Where?"

"That's the deal. I tell you where the files are, and you let me help you get them."

"Absolutely not."

"Adrian-"

"No." He stepped closer, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "You're not leaving this building. You're not putting yourself in danger. End of discussion."

"Then people will keep dying." I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. "Because without those files, you'll never find all of them. You'll never know who else is coming for me."

"I'll find them eventually."

"How many will die while you're looking?" I asked softly. "How many Marina Volkovs?"

Something flickered in his eyes - pain, maybe, or regret. "That's not your concern."

"Yes, it is." I reached out, my fingers brushing his chest. "Because I care about you, Adrian. I care about what this is doing to you."

He caught my hand, his grip firm but not painful. "What this is doing to me?"

"You think I don't see it? The way you come home each night a little more broken? The way you wash your hands like you're trying to scrub away sins that go deeper than skin?" I stepped closer, until there was barely an inch between us. "I see you, Adrian. All of you. And I want to help."

"You want to help by walking into a trap."

"I want to help by doing something other than hiding." My voice was barely a whisper. "Please. Let me be more than just your weakness."

"You're not my weakness," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Then prove it. Let me stand beside you instead of behind you."

For a long moment, he studied my face, weighing options I couldn't see. When he spoke, his voice was rough with something that might have been defeat.

"Where are the files?"

I smiled, victory sweet on my tongue. "My father's gallery. He has a private office in the basement, behind a false wall. There's a safe there that contains everything."

"And you know the combination?"

"My birthday." Another lie, but a believable one. "He was sentimental like that."

Adrian was quiet for a long moment, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. Calculating risks, weighing benefits, planning contingencies.

"If we do this," he said finally, "you follow my lead. You do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. No questions, no arguments."

"Agreed."

"And if things go wrong, you run. You don't try to help, you don't try to be brave. You run, and you don't look back."

"Adrian-"

"Promise me." His hands cupped my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones. "Promise me you'll run if I tell you to."

"I promise."

It was a lie, and we both knew it. But he nodded anyway, sealing our devil's bargain with a kiss that tasted of desperation and desire.

"We leave in an hour," he said against my lips. "Wear something dark."

The gallery was closed when we arrived, its windows dark and empty. Adrian had brought three men with him - silent, efficient shadows who moved like they were born to violence. I recognized one of them as the man who'd stopped me in the parking garage.

"The security system?" Adrian asked one of them.

"Disabled," came the reply. "We have twenty minutes before it cycles back online."

Adrian nodded, then turned to me. "Stay close. Don't touch anything unnecessarily. And remember what you promised."

I nodded, though my heart was racing. Because I hadn't just lied about the files. I'd lied about everything.

My father's gallery didn't have a basement office. There was no safe behind a false wall. And I had no idea what we were going to find when we got inside.

But I did know one thing: my father had been here the night he died. The gallery's security footage would show him entering, but not leaving. And if I was right, if my theory was correct, then the answers we needed were somewhere in this building.

I just had to find them before Adrian realized I'd been lying.

The gallery was a maze of shadows and expensive art, sculptures and paintings worth more than most people's houses. Adrian moved through it like he owned it, confident and dangerous.

"The office?" he asked.

"Downstairs," I said, leading him toward the back of the building. My heart hammered as we descended into the lower level, into storage rooms and utility spaces.

"Elena." Adrian's voice was soft, deadly. "There's no office down here."

I turned to face him, and in the dim light, his eyes looked like chips of black ice.

"No," I said quietly. "There isn't."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because this is where he died." The words came out in a rush. "My father. He died here, in this building. And I think his killer is still here."

Adrian's expression didn't change, but I felt the temperature in the room drop ten degrees.

"You lied to me."

"Yes."

"About everything."

"Yes."

"Why?"

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze despite the fear coursing through my veins. "Because I knew you'd never bring me here if I told you the truth. And because I need to see where he died. I need to understand."

"You need to understand." His voice was conversational, almost pleasant. Which made it absolutely terrifying. "You lied to me, manipulated me, put yourself and my men in danger, because you need to understand."

"Adrian-"

"Do you know what I do to people who lie to me, Elena?"

I swallowed hard. "No."

"I kill them." He stepped closer, and I could feel the violence radiating from him like heat from a fire. "Slowly. Creatively. I make them regret every word that ever passed their lips."

"But you won't kill me."

"Won't I?"

"No." I reached out, my hand settling over his heart. "Because you love me."

The words hung in the air between us like a challenge. Adrian's expression didn't change, but I felt his heartbeat quicken under my palm.

"Love," he said softly, "is a weakness I can't afford."

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?"

"Because," he said, his voice rough with something that might have been pain, "I'm already weak."

Before I could respond, a slow clap echoed through the storage room. We both spun toward the sound, and I felt my blood turn to ice.

A man stepped out of the shadows, tall and lean with silver hair and cold eyes. He was holding a gun, and it was pointed directly at Adrian.

"How touching," he said, his voice cultured and smooth. "Though I'm afraid this reunion is about to be cut short."

"Dmitri," Adrian said, and there was something almost like recognition in his voice. "I wondered when you'd show yourself."

"Did you? How perceptive." The man - Dmitri - smiled, and it was all teeth. "Though not perceptive enough to realize you were walking into a trap."

"What do you want?" Adrian asked, though his body was already shifting, positioning himself between me and the gun.

"What I've always wanted," Dmitri replied. "Everything you've built. Everything you've taken from me."

"And her?" Adrian's voice was deadly quiet.

"She's just a bonus." Dmitri's smile widened. "Though I must admit, using her to lure you here was inspired. Even I didn't expect it to work so well."

The pieces clicked into place in my mind. The messages on the phone. Marina Volkov's death. The carefully orchestrated events that had led us here.

"You've been manipulating me," I said.

"From the beginning," Dmitri confirmed. "Though I must say, falling for Adrian so quickly was an unexpected complication. It made you much harder to control."

"But not impossible," Adrian said.

"No. Not impossible." Dmitri's finger tightened on the trigger. "Say goodbye, Elena. Your usefulness has expired."

Time seemed to slow. I saw Adrian's muscles tense, saw him preparing to throw himself in front of the bullet meant for me.

And I realized that I couldn't let him die. Not for me. Not when I'd brought him here with lies and manipulation.

"Wait," I said, stepping around Adrian despite his sharp intake of breath. "You don't want to kill me. You want to use me."

"Elena, don't-"

"I know where the real files are," I said, ignoring Adrian's warning. "The ones my father actually hid. The ones that contain the names of every government official, every police commissioner, every judge who's ever taken money from the Crimson Serpent."

Dmitri's eyes sharpened. "Go on."

"But I'll only tell you if you let Adrian live."

"Elena," Adrian's voice was soft, almost tender. "You beautiful, foolish girl. There are no files."

I met his eyes, and in them I saw something I'd never seen before.

Pride.

"I know," I said quietly. "But he doesn't."

Dmitri's face went very still. "What?"

"There are no files, Dmitri," Adrian said, his voice gaining strength. "There never were. Elena's father was a front man, nothing more. He knew just enough to be useful, but not enough to be dangerous."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Adrian smiled, and it was sharp as a blade. "Then why have you been chasing shadows for two months? Why have you killed a dozen people and still come up empty-handed?"

"Because she knows something," Dmitri snarled, swinging the gun toward me. "She has to."

"She knows nothing," Adrian said. "She's exactly what she appears to be - an innocent woman who got caught in a game she doesn't understand."

"Then why protect her?"

"Because," Adrian said, his voice soft and deadly, "I love her."

The admission hung in the air like a prayer, like a promise, like a threat.

And in that moment of distraction, as Dmitri processed what he'd heard, Adrian moved.

The next few seconds were a blur of violence and chaos. Adrian's men appeared from the shadows like ghosts, surrounding Dmitri before he could react. The gun fell from his hand, clattering across the concrete floor.

"Did you really think," Adrian said, his voice conversational as he picked up the fallen weapon, "that I would walk into a trap without setting one of my own?"

Dmitri's face was pale, all his confidence evaporated. "This isn't over."

"Yes," Adrian said quietly, "it is."

The gunshot echoed through the storage room, final and absolute.

I stood frozen as Dmitri's body crumpled to the floor, as Adrian's men began the grim work of cleanup. My ears were ringing, my hands shaking, but I couldn't look away.

"Elena." Adrian's voice was gentle, his hands on my shoulders. "Are you all right?"

I looked up at him, this man who had just killed someone in front of me, this man who had admitted he loved me in the same breath as he planned murder.

"You knew," I said. "You knew it was a trap."

"I suspected." His thumb traced my cheekbone, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized I'd shed. "But I had to be sure. And I had to make sure you were safe."

"By letting me lie to you? By letting me manipulate you?"

"By letting you be brave." His smile was soft, almost tender. "You stood between me and a gun, Elena. You offered yourself as a sacrifice to save my life."

"I couldn't let you die for me."

"And I couldn't let you die for anything." He pulled me against him, and I breathed in the scent of violence and protection. "You're mine, Elena. Mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to love."

"Adrian-"

"No more lies," he said against my hair. "No more games. No more tests. From now on, we face everything together."

I pulled back to look at him, at this man who had just declared his love over a dead body.

"Together," I agreed.

Because in that moment, standing in a storage room that smelled of death and expensive art, I realized something that should have terrified me.

I was exactly where I belonged.

In the arms of a monster who loved me.

In the heart of a darkness that felt like home.