𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

8

"Damien, I don't know about this," I start, my voice breaking. "That's crazy. I don't know if I can just go in there and murder somebody, what do you want me to do? Stab them? Shoot them?"

His jaw clenches tightly. "No, Catherine. It won't be bloody. You said you'd do anything for me, Catherine. I don't like liars." His voice is low and dangerous, a warning edge creeping into his tone.

I feel sick but I press on, trying to make him understand my hesitation.

"Damien...I just don't think I can do that." I blink at him in shock, my mind racing, a panic coming on.

Damien's eyes narrow, his eyes turning icy and distant. Slowly, he reaches over and opens the passenger side door.

"Get out," he says flatly, his voice without any emotion. "If you can't do this for me, then you're not cut out for a relationship with me. Find your own way back."

My heart jumps into my throat. We're miles from the city, in the middle of nowhere. If Damien abandons me here, I'll be stranded with no way to get home. I have to stay...I have to do it...for Penny.

Panic rises in my chest as I scramble for words, for a way to pacify him without abandoning my morals. But as I search his face, I see nothing but coldness.

He means what he says - if I don't do this, he'll leave me behind without even thinking.

I come to realize just how far and how fast I've fallen for Damien. How much power he holds over me, to even make me consider killing someone.

I whisper, my eyes stinging with tears and my voice barely audible. "I'll do it."

Damien's expression softens slightly, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his eyes. He reaches over and closes the car door. "Good girl," he whispers, his hand coming to rest on my thigh.

Damien's smile is cold and satisfied. "Now, the man you're looking for is wearing a blue suit, red tie. You've seen him before, at my business meetings. You need to get him alone," Damien continues, his tone businesslike. "Flirt with him, make him think you're interested. Then lead him somewhere private."

"And then what?" I whisper.

Damien's grin is razor-sharp. "And then you take this," Damien hands me a small baggie of some sort of powder. "Fentanyl, pour it in his drink, he'll overdose. Understood?"

"Got it" I mumble. As I sit in the car waiting for the go ahead, my nerves start to get the better of me.

My hands shake and my breathing turns shallow. Damien notices, "Take this to calm you down." He pulls out a flask from his suit pocket and unscrews the cap, offering it to me.

I take it with shaking hands and bring it to my lips, throwing back a big gulp of vodka. He reaches into the backseat and rummages around for a moment before emerging with a bag of square shaped pills. "Take one," Damien commands gently, pulling out a pill and handing it to me. "It'll help."

I throw back one last shot of vodka with shaking hands, and take a pill. Damien places a hand on my lower back. "It's time, Cat."

I nod numbly, giving myself a weak pep talk as I exit the car and make the long walk towards the mansion entrance.

Dear Heavenly Father, Please  forgive me for everything I have done, and everything I am about to do.

The fentanyl Damien gave me feels like a lead weight in my hand. I step into the foyer on autopilot, all eyes land on me, staring at my exposed body.

I feel flushed and woozy, the drugs hitting hard.

As I roughly push past the crowds, conveniently, I zero in on the target through my hazy vision