Page 29 of Ravaged By a Devil

The relationship between George and me has been toxic from the start. We clash constantly over the smallest things. I missed our former manager, Anna, who was reasonable and fair; ever since George took over a few months ago, he’s made a habit of picking on me and micromanaging my every move. Because of that, I’ve made a point to keep my head down and never ask him for a single favor.

Until tonight.

"Who's that?" his muffled voice barks from inside.

"It's me, Alexis," I reply, my hand tightening into a fist at my side.

There’s a long pause before his chair creaks. "Come in, Hayes.”

I push the door open and step into the cramped, dimly lit office. George is sitting behind his cluttered desk, a half-empty glass of amber liquor near his elbow. The second I cross the threshold, his sharp eyes pin me to the spot, scanning me up and down.

"What do you need, Hayes? It's late," he says, leaning back and lacing his fingers over his stomach.

I force my voice to remain steady despite the absolute desperation clawing at my throat. "I need more hours, George. I'm looking to take on extra shifts—doubles, weekends, closing, whatever you have available. I can cover for anyone."

George stares at me for a beat, a faint, mocking smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He slowly reaches over, tapping a printout on his desk.

"The schedule is already locked, Alexis," he says, shaking his head with zero sympathy. "I've got a full roster and zero hours to hand out. You already work your assigned shifts, and I'm not going over budget for you. The answer is no."

I open my mouth to plead, to offer to work the dead-end opening shifts or clean the storage rooms—anything to get a few extra dollars on my paycheck—but George holds up a blunt hand, shutting me down before I can utter another word.

"I said no, Hayes. Close the door on your way out."

A cold lump forms in my throat as I bite my tongue, forcing a curt nod. I turn around and walk out of his office, the wooden door shutting with a dull thud behind me.

I make my way down the quiet service hallway and pull open the exit door into the chilly night air. The alley behind The Blackwood is dark and damp, but before I can even take a step toward the street, my phone chimes loudly in my jacket pocket.

I pull it out, my chest tightening as the screen lights up with a notification from the specialist center. It’s an updated prescription list from Milly’s doctor, detailing three new, crucial medications she needs to start by tomorrow morning to maintain her current stability—none of which are covered by her basic plan, and every single one costing a small fortune.

I let out a ragged, desperate groan, tilting my head back against the cold brick wall of the alley as tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

Suddenly, Cain’s dark proposition echoes in my mind.

Money in exchange for… me.

A deep, sickening shudder ripples down my spine. The idea feels dirty, completely beneath everything I’ve ever stood for, but as I stare at the astronomical total on my phone screen, a harsh reality settles over me.

What choice do I actually have?

It’s not like I’ve never been with a man before. The only difference this time is that money will change hands, and my grandmother will get to live.

Cain is undeniably gorgeous—a dark, breathtaking storm of a man. In any normal world, under any normal circumstances, the thought of his hands on me would make my pulse race with anticipation rather than terror. But this isn't normal. This is survival.

My skin crawls as I open my contacts, my thumb hovering over his name. My heart hammers violently against my ribs, each thud sounding like a countdown.

I take a deep, steadying breath, closing my eyes tight, and press the call button.

CHAPTER NINE

CAIN

“Are you on your way?” Malachi asks the second I pick up. “The meeting is about to start.”

Irritation floods me. “I’m fucking coming,” I snap into the Bluetooth. “You just told me about this ten minutes ago.”

Malachi snorts over the line, completely unfazed. “Well, you’re always late, so I’m checking.”

“Get off my phone, dude, I’m like ten minutes away,” I growl.