For weeks, Ayla had lived like a ghost trying to learn how to breathe again.
The flower shop. The sea breeze. The quiet.
Every small joy had felt like rebellion like she was finally choosing herself.
She told herself Damien was gone.
He couldn't find her. Not here. Not in this small coastal town where even secrets faded with the tide.
But monsters didn't vanish.
They waited.
That evening, rain lashed against the windows of her tiny apartment. Ayla stood by the counter, making tea, humming softly a habit she'd picked up to drown the silence.
Then came the knock.
Three slow, measured taps.
Her chest tightened. She froze.
No one ever visited this late.
She hesitated before opening the door. But when she did
It wasn't Damien.
It was Mira, drenched from the rain, trembling slightly.
"Ayla," Mira whispered. "There's… there's someone asking for you at the shop. He said he's family."
Ayla's stomach dropped. "Who?"
"I don't know, but he"
A sound behind them the low hum of an engine. Headlights washed over the room through the rain-slick window.
Ayla turned.
The car door opened.
And through the downpour, he stepped out.
Black coat. Umbrella. That same calm smile that once fooled everyone.
Damien.
Mira gasped, stepping back, but Damien's gaze was fixed solely on Ayla.
As if nothing had changed.
As if the world had been waiting for this moment.
"You've lost weight," he said softly, his voice almost tender. "You shouldn't skip meals."
Her breath came in shallow bursts. "How... how did you"
He tilted his head. "You think I'd let you disappear?"
He stepped closer, his shoes splashing in puddles. "You belong with me, Ayla."
She shook her head. "No. You destroyed everything."
"And I'll rebuild it," he murmured, his tone dangerously calm. "With you."
When she tried to run, Mira reached out "Ayla, go!" but before she could take two steps, Damien's men emerged from the shadows. Two. Maybe three. Dressed plain, quiet, efficient.
Ayla's scream was lost in the rain as they pulled her back.
Hours later, the town slept. The only trace of her was the broken teacup on the floor and the open door that swung silently in the wind.
And as Damien's car disappeared into the night, he reached over, brushing a strand of hair from Ayla's tear-streaked face.
"See?" he whispered. "No one takes you away from me."
Outside, thunder cracked.
Inside, the devil smiled.