Aria's POV
I need to move. Now.
If someone's watching me, they know where I am. And if they made a deal with the devil too, they might have powers like mine. Maybe stronger.
I duck into a subway station, blending into the morning crowd. Office workers heading to jobs. Students going to school. Normal people living normal lives.
I used to be one of them. Three days ago, my biggest worry was wedding flower arrangements.
Now I'm running from a mysterious man who claims he sold his soul too.
The subway car is packed. I squeeze into a corner, keeping my head down. My reflection stares back at me from the dark window—I look terrible. Hair tangled. Clothes still damp from the river. Dark circles under my eyes.
But my eyes themselves... they look different. Sharper. Colder.
More aware.
I notice everything now. The man two seats down has cocaine residue under his fingernails. The woman across from me has bruises on her wrists hidden by her sleeves—someone's hurting her. The teenager with headphones is shoplifting—I can see the stolen phone bulging in his jacket.
I see everyone's secrets. Everyone's sins.
Is this part of the power? Or am I just paying attention for the first time in my life?
My stolen phone buzzes. Another text from the unknown number:
"Don't run. I'm not your enemy. I want to help you. The devil's gifts come with consequences you don't understand yet. Meet me. Please. —D"
Who is D?
And why should I trust someone who's been spying on me?
I get off at the next stop—a commercial district full of electronics stores and pawn shops. I need supplies. A new phone, clothes, money. And I need to figure out my next move before 2 PM when Veronica's announcement happens.
The trafficker's warehouse address burns in my memory. Ezekiel's test.
But the mysterious D's warning echoes too: "Consequences you don't understand yet."
What consequences? The shortened lifespan? The dulling emotions? Or something worse?
I walk into a pawn shop, the bell jingling overhead. The owner—a bald man with suspicious eyes—looks me up and down.
"We don't give loans to homeless people," he says flatly.
"I'm not homeless." I pull out the gang member's phone. "I want to sell this."
He examines it with a jeweler's loupe. "Stolen?"
"Does it matter?"
A slow smile spreads across his face. "I like you. Fifty bucks."
"It's worth three hundred."
"Then sell it somewhere else." He slides it back to me.
This is where old Aria would have accepted the unfair price. Been polite. Walked away.
New Aria doesn't have time for this.
I meet his eyes and let them flash red—just for a second.
The pawn shop owner jerks back, face going pale. "What the hell—"
"Two hundred," I say calmly. "And throw in a burner phone, a charger, and that black hoodie behind the counter. Or I can show you what else these eyes can do."
I don't actually know what else they can do. But he doesn't need to know that.
His hands shake as he grabs the items. "Two hundred. Take it. Just... just get out of my store."
I pocket the cash and supplies, pulling on the hoodie. "Pleasure doing business."
Outside, I program the burner phone with the few numbers I remember. Not many left. Most of my contacts were work people who think I'm a criminal now. Friends who've probably seen the news and believed the worst.
I'm alone.
Except for Ezekiel. And the mysterious D. And whoever else is playing this game.
The warehouse address pulls at me. Forty-three victims. A monster operating freely.
But something else nags at my mind. That silver-haired man on the rooftop—he was watching me before I even saw him. Like he knew where I'd be.
How?
Unless...
My blood runs cold.
What if he's been following me since the river? What if he saw everything—the deal with Ezekiel, me saving Danny, me discovering my powers?
What if he's not another devil-deal maker at all, but something worse?
I need information. Need to understand what I'm up against.
Dr. Sarah Chen's business card is still in my pocket, somehow surviving the river. She said to call if I needed anything.
I dial her number on the burner phone.
She answers on the second ring. "This is Dr. Chen."
"It's Aria. From last night. The alley."
A pause. "Are you okay? I've been worried. Your picture is all over the news—they're saying you're wanted for embezzlement."
"I didn't do it. But nobody believes me."
"I believe you." Her voice is firm. "Anyone who saves a dying kid in an alley isn't a thief. Where are you? Do you need help?"
The offer is tempting. So tempting. To trust someone. To have an ally.
But Dr. Chen is normal. Human. If Veronica's people find out she's helping me, they'll hurt her too.
"I can't drag you into this," I say. "I just... I wanted to ask about Danny. Is he okay?"
"He's stable. Surgery went well. He'll recover fully thanks to you." A pause. "Aria, the way you helped him. The medical knowledge you demonstrated. Where did you learn that?"
"I don't know." It's the truth. "It just... came to me."
"That's not how medical knowledge works. You can't just—" She stops. "Something happened to you, didn't it? Between being arrested and showing up in that alley. You're different."
She's too perceptive. Too smart.
"I have to go," I say quickly.
"Wait! Whatever you're planning to do, be careful. I don't know what's going on, but I can see it in your eyes—you're going after someone. Promise me you won't do something you can't take back."
I look at the warehouse address on Ezekiel's card.
"I can't promise that," I whisper, and hang up.
The warehouse sits in an industrial area where nobody asks questions. Barbed wire fences. Broken streetlights. The perfect place for terrible things to happen.
I watch from across the street, hood pulled low. Three men guard the entrance. Two more patrol the perimeter. Inside, according to Ezekiel, is the trafficker and his current "merchandise."
People. Human beings being bought and sold.
My hands curl into fists. The cold feeling in my chest spreads—not anger anymore, just ice-cold purpose.
I can do this. I have the skills now. The strength. The knowledge.
But as I'm about to move, a hand grabs my shoulder.
I spin, fist raised—
And stop.
The silver-haired man from the rooftop stands there. Up close, he's devastatingly handsome—sharp features, electric blue eyes, expensive coat. Maybe thirty years old. He looks like he belongs in a boardroom, not a warehouse district.
"Don't scream," he says quietly. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"Let go of me." My voice is steady despite my racing heart.
He releases my shoulder but doesn't step back. "You're planning to hit that warehouse. Alone. First night with your powers. That's suicide."
"How do you—"
"Because I did the same thing five years ago." His blue eyes glow amber for just a second—the same way my eyes glow red. "I made the deal too. Half my life for power. And I almost got killed my first night because I didn't understand what I was yet."
Five years. He's had these powers for five years.
"Who are you?" I demand.
"Damien Thorne." He pulls out a business card—elegant, expensive. "CEO of Thorne Security. And yes, before you ask, I'm the one the mayor hired to catch you. Lady Justice. Though I didn't know your real identity until this morning."
My heart stops. "You're hunting me."
"I was." He pockets the card. "Then I saw you on that rooftop talking to Ezekiel. I saw your eyes glow. I felt your power." His voice drops. "And I realized you're like me. The only other person I've ever met who made the deal."
"So what? You want to team up? Be partners in demon-powered vigilantism?"
"No." His face is serious. "I want to warn you. The powers come with a cost beyond the years. You'll start to lose yourself. Your humanity. Your ability to feel. In five years, I've become something cold. Something dangerous. I don't want that for you."
"Maybe I want to be dangerous," I shoot back. "Maybe the world needs something dangerous."
"The world needs justice. Not monsters." He glances at the warehouse. "But if you're determined to do this, at least let me teach you. Show you how to use your gifts without getting killed. Or worse—without becoming something you hate."
"Why would you help me?"
Damien's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something break through his cold exterior. Pain. Loneliness. Recognition.
"Because," he says quietly, "you're the first person in five years who might actually understand what this curse feels like. And I don't want to watch another devil-deal maker destroy themselves."
Before I can respond, gunfire erupts from the warehouse.
Screaming. Running. The guards scramble toward the building.
"Someone else is hitting them," Damien says. "Someone who's not us."
We exchange a glance and run toward the chaos together.
Inside the warehouse, it's a bloodbath. The trafficker's men are down—some dead, some unconscious. And standing in the middle of the carnage, holding a gun, is someone I never expected to see.
Veronica.
My stepmother smiles at us, blood splattered across her designer dress.
"Hello, Aria darling," she purrs. "Did you really think you were the only one Ezekiel offered a deal to?"