The Devil smelled like gunpowder, icy rain, and dark cedarwood.
That was the very first thought that crossed Ash's panicked mind as she lay pinned in the suffocating mud beneath Damien Vance.
Above them, the night was tearing apart. The deafening rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire shattered the storm, bullets ricocheting off the armored steel of Damien's ruined SUV and sparking violently against the wet asphalt.
Ash was trembling so violently that her teeth chattered. She was a slum girl; she had seen violence, she had seen cruelty. But this? This was a literal warzone. Yet, amidst the terrifying chaos, the man shielding her with his massive, muscular body was unnervingly still. He wasn't shaking. His heartbeat, thumping steadily against her chest, was as calm as a ticking clock.
"Stay perfectly still," a deep, rough voice vibrated against her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the freezing rain.
Before Ash could even nod, Damien shifted his weight. With one iron-clad arm still locked securely around her fragile waist, pinning her to the ground, he rolled slightly to his side. He raised his silver-plated revolver with terrifying, casual precision.
He didn't even blink.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three deafening shots rang out from his gun. Three heavy thuds followed in the dark alleys as the snipers dropped dead from the rooftops. The precision of a cold-blooded apex predator.
"Leo! Secure the perimeter!" Damien roared over the thunder, his voice echoing with absolute, unquestionable authority.
"Clear, Boss! Area is secure!" Leo yelled back from the shadows, stepping out over the fresh corpses.
The gunfire ceased. The only sound left was the heavy, torrential rain washing the blood into the slum's gutters.
Damien slowly pushed himself up on one arm, looming over Ash. The storm raged behind him, lightning illuminating his sharp, scarred face like a fallen angel of death. He looked down at the pathetic, trembling creature trapped beneath him.
By all rights, he should have been disgusted. Her oversized clothes were soaked in filthy mud. Her face was covered in a thick, repulsive layer of black grime that smelled faintly of motor oil and cheap coal. She looked like a wretched little gutter rat.
But then, she looked up at him.
Damien's breath caught in his throat. Those eyes. Large, mesmerizing, golden-hazel pools framed by impossibly thick, wet lashes. They were wide with sheer terror, yet shining with a devastating, untouched purity. In a world full of liars, manipulators, and plastic beauties, those eyes held a raw, painful truth that hooked directly into Damien's dark, hollow soul.
He reached out. His large, calloused thumb, stained with the blood of the men he had just killed, brushed against her cheek.
Ash flinched violently, squeezing her eyes shut, terrified that he would wipe away the black soot. If he wiped it away, he would see the flawless, radiant porcelain skin underneath. He would see Aria.
But Damien mistook her flinch for fear of him. A strange, unfamiliar spike of anger flared in his chest—not at her, but at the fact that she was afraid of his touch. He withdrew his hand, his jaw clenching tightly.
"Are you hit?" he demanded, his voice dropping an octave, harsh but undeniably probing.
Ash furiously shook her head, unable to find her voice. She pushed desperately against his hard chest, trying to scramble backward into the mud. "L-let me go. Please," she finally choked out, her voice a soft, melodic whisper that completely contrasted with her hideous appearance.
Damien's stormy grey eyes narrowed. Let her go? He watched her try to crawl away like a wounded, frightened animal. She was going to run back into the darkness. Back to the thugs, the filth, the danger. The very thought made his blood boil.
In a fraction of a second, Damien's large hand clamped around her slender wrist like a steel vice.
Ash gasped, her gaze snapping back to his terrifyingly calm face.
"You're not going anywhere," Damien stated. It wasn't a request. It was an absolute decree.
"No! My—my mother! I have to go back—" Ash panicked, thrashing wildly. If she didn't return, Marcus would kill her mother. She had to hide. She couldn't be with this dangerous man.
Without a word of warning, Damien effortlessly hauled her to her feet, pulling her flush against his solid chest. She was so small, the top of her head barely reaching his collarbone.
"Let me go!" she cried out, hitting his chest with her free hand. It was like punching a concrete wall.
"If you run back into that alley, the men who sent these assassins will find you, and they will put a bullet through your pretty little head just for witnessing this," Damien lied smoothly, his tone icy and indifferent, though his grip on her was surprisingly gentle. "You are coming with me."
"I don't know you! You're a killer!" the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
The moment she said it, the air around them seemed to drop ten degrees. Leo, who had just walked up to them, froze in his tracks, his eyes widening. No one spoke to the Devil like that. No one.
Damien tilted his head, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips. He stepped so close that Ash could feel the heat radiating off his soaked body.
"I am worse than a killer, little bird," Damien whispered, his voice dark as sin. "And right now, I am the only thing keeping you breathing. Get in the car."
"I won't—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Damien bent down, scooped her up over his broad shoulder like she weighed absolutely nothing, and marched toward the backup SUV that Leo had quickly summoned.
"Put me down! Please!" Ash kicked her legs in panic, but Damien's iron grip around the back of her thighs didn't budge an inch.
He yanked the back door of the luxurious, heavily armored SUV open and tossed her onto the plush leather seats. Before she could scramble out the other side, the doors locked with a sharp click.
Damien slid into the seat beside her, his massive frame taking up most of the space. The sheer dominance of his presence sucked all the oxygen out of the car. He unbuttoned his soaked, expensive suit jacket, pulled it off, and threw it over Ash's shivering, mud-covered shoulders.
The heavy fabric engulfed her, smelling fiercely of his intoxicating cologne. Ash pulled the jacket tight around her, shrinking into the corner of the car, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Drive to the Estate," Damien ordered Leo, not once taking his intense, predatory gaze off the trembling girl beside him.
The car sped away from the slums, leaving her entire world behind.
Ash squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a sob. She was trapped. Kidnapped by the King of the Underworld himself.
But as she slightly opened her eyes and caught her reflection in the darkened window, a new, far more terrifying realization hit her.
The heavy rain had washed away a tiny, centimeter-long patch of the black soot near her hairline. Through the ugly, greasy grime, a small patch of perfectly glowing, milky-white skin was exposed.
Panic seized her throat. If this dangerous, ruthless man—who killed without a second thought—found out she was wearing a disguise... If he found out her entire existence in his car was a calculated lie...
He wouldn't just kill her. He would destroy her.
Ash quickly pulled the hood of Damien's oversized jacket over her head, burying her face in the shadows, silently praying to a God she wasn't sure was listening.
The deception had begun.