Chapter 2: I Owe A Debt To The Devil
Bzzz.
"I can’t take it anymore."
The harsh blare of the alarm went off at exactly four in the morning.
Anastasia groaned, her hand blindly hitting the off switch. Every single joint in her body ached.
Just five more minutes, her mind begged.
But she couldn’t. If she was late, her manager at the café would dock her pay... and every single dollar matters.
"Get up, Anastasia," she whispered to herself in the dark, chilly room. "Four jobs. You just have to survive four jobs today."
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By noon, Anastasia was staring at a massive pot of boiling pasta at the daycare center, her arms trembling as she stirred it.
Café shift... done.
Daycare cook shift... halfway there.
She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, her mind wandering as she watched the kids laughing in the dining hall. They were so carefree.
Even her coworkers here... mostly bubbly college students... were always talking about their weekend plans, their exams, or their boyfriends.
Anastasia felt a sudden, crushing weight in her chest.
They get to have a youth, she thought bitterly. They get to live.
All her life, she had been sheltered by her parents. Raised to be a perfect, quiet doll. No work experience. No freedom. Just a piece of property to be handed from her patriarchal family over to a monster.
Don’t go there, she scolded herself, shaking her head violently. Do not think about Damian Sterling.
She was free from that hellish marriage now. Even if freedom meant working herself to death.
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"Order up! Table four needs their pasta dishes, Ana!"
The shouting of the diner’s head chef snapped her back to reality. It was 11:00 PM. Her fourth and final shift of the day.
Anastasia grabbed the heavy tray, but as she took a step, the world suddenly tilted.
A sharp, stabbing pain flared behind her eyes. Her vision blurred, the bright neon lights of the diner stretching into agonizing streaks. She quickly grabbed the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to stay upright.
"Whoa, Ana! Caught you!"
Chloe, a college student working the late night waitress shift with her, rushed over and stabilized her arm. Chloe frowned, looking at Anastasia’s pale face and hollow cheeks.
"Sit down before you face plant," Chloe commanded, gently forcing her onto a stool and sliding a warm mug of tea toward her. "You look like a ghost."
"I’m fine, Chloe," Anastasia managed to say, her voice sounding raspy even to her own ears. "Just a little headache."
"A little headache? Ana, you work eighteen hours a day!" Chloe’s voice cracked with genuine worry. "You do the morning café, the daycare, the dog walking, and then you come here. When do you even sleep? Two hours a night?"
Anastasia looked down at the steaming tea, staying silent.
I can’t sleep, she thought. If I sleep, the interest builds up.
"You need to take a break," Chloe pressed, grabbing her hand. "Go home. Call out of work tomorrow. Take a few days to just rest and heal yourself. Your body is screaming for help."
Anastasia gave a hollow, bittersweet smile.
"I can’t do that, Chloe."
"Why not? No job is worth dying for!"
Because I owe a debt to the Devil, Anastasia wanted to scream.
Two years. It had been two years since the divorce, and because her rent, groceries, and endless medical bills ate up every cent, she hadn’t been able to pay back a single dime to Damian. He hadn’t come looking for her yet, but she knew him. He was just waiting for her to fail completely.
She couldn’t afford to rest. She was barely surviving as it was.
Anastasia forced a bright, reassuring smile onto her face and squeezed Chloe’s hand.
"Seriously, it’s nothing to worry about," she lied smoothly, lifting the mug. "I just forgot to drink water today. I’ll finish my shift, go home, and get a good night’s sleep. Promise."
Chloe sighed, clearly not believing her, but walked away to tend to another customer.
Anastasia took a sip of the warm tea, her heart heavy as she stared out the window at the dark, rainy Pennsylvania streets.
Just a few more hours, she told herself, clutching her throbbing head. Just make it home.
Anastasia gritted her teeth and pushed through the final hour of her shift. When the clock finally hit closing time, she let out a sigh of relief.
Walking to the glass doors, she looked outside. The heavy downpour had finally stopped, leaving the asphalt glistening under the streetlights.
Thank goodness, she thought, a small spark of relief warming her chest.
"Goodnight, Tom! See you tomorrow," she called out to her manager.
"Get some rest, Ana!" he shouted back.
Anastasia stepped out into the crisp night air, pulling her thin jacket tightly around herself. It was only a twenty minute walk to her apartment. On a normal night, she could do it with her eyes closed. But tonight? Her limbs felt like blocks of lead. Every step required a monumental amount of willpower.
Why does it feel so far away tonight? She thought, her vision swimming slightly.
Then, the universe decided it hadn’t punished her enough.
Without warning, the clouds opened up again. The sky started to pour, unleashing a sudden, violent deluge.
Are you kidding me? Anastasia panicked, instantly getting drenched.
She hadn’t brought an umbrella with her, completely trusting the clear sky from minutes ago. Desperate, she looked around for a place to hide. But every single storefront, bus stop, and overhang was already packed tight with people trying to escape the storm.
Shit! she cursed at her luck.
Wiping the cold rainwater from her eyes, she looked ahead into the dark, blurry street. Just keep walking. It’s nearby. You can make it.
But it was pure, wishful thinking.
The freezing rain against her warm, feverish skin made her headache explode. The throbbing behind her eyes turned into a blinding, agonizing roar. Her body began to shiver violently, her teeth chattering so hard they ached.
She tried to fight it. For two years, her strong will had kept her alive. She forced one foot in front of the other, refusing to break.
But a human body can only take so much.
Suddenly, her knees turned to water. The streetlights spun around her in dizzying circles. The world tilted sideways, and the dark rushed in, completely swallowing her vision. Her hands slipped from her sides as she fell forward.
"No... I can’t give in to weakness."
She braced for the hard, unforgiving impact of the wet concrete.
But it never came.
Right before her body could hit the ground, a pair of powerful, steady arms cut through the rain. They grabbed her securely, pulling her chest against a firm torso before lifting her up gently.
"Miss Vance?" a panicked, professional voice called out.
The man holding her quickly pulled out a encrypted phone, shielding her small, shivering body from the wind as he hit speed dial. The call connected instantly.
"Sir, Miss Vance has passed out and her condition is very bad," the man reported into the receiver, his voice tight. "What should I do?"
Across the line, thousands of miles away in a high rise penthouse, there was a long, suffocating pause. The silence stretched so heavy it rivaled the thunder crashing outside.
When the reply finally came, it was a low, dangerous rumble that sent chills down the line.
"Bring her to me..." Damian Sterling commanded, his tone dripping with a terrifying, unyielding possessiveness. "Right now!"