A Deal With The Devil

The scent hit her first.

Coppery. Heavy. Wrong.

Aria Kane froze at the threshold of her living room, groceries tumbling from her hands as oranges bounced across the hardwood floor like tiny suns rolling into darkness. The front door swung wide behind her, letting in the last amber glow of dusk, but it couldn’t soften the scene before her.

Her breath caught up in her throat at the sight before her.

Blood. So much of it.

On the floor, smeared across the pale walls. Handprints. Streaks. A child’s stuffed giraffe soaked and torn apart.

And then—

“Liam?” her voice cracked. It was the name of the stuffed toy.

The world began to slow, sounds muting into a dull roar in her ears as her heels clicked over the sticky floor. She dropped to her knees before her husband’s lifeless body, slumped awkwardly against the couch, eyes wide and vacant. His chest was torn, shirt soaked through, fingers curled around nothing.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking him. “Nathan, please. Please, wake up...”

But Nathan wasn’t waking up, neither was their son.

Aria’s gaze jerked across the room—no. Her scream tore through the quiet, rattling the glass. Her little boy, Jamie. Just six years old. His small body sprawled beneath the coffee table, his pajama shirt twisted, his face pale, eyes half-closed like he was only sleeping.

But she knew he wasn’t.

She crawled toward him, her knees sliding through the blood, her hands trembling as she cupped his cold cheek.

“Baby, no...”

The sobs came sharp and ragged, stealing her breath. She curled over his body, her shoulders wracking as her entire world caved in.

She gathered his body into her arms, the feel of his cold skin on hers, sending daggers into her heart, tearing her a thousand times. 

With him in her arms, she moved slowly to her husband. Sitting beside him with their son in her embrace, she rested his head on her legs, and with a heavy heart, she placed her hand over his eyelids, shutting his eyes. "May we meet again," she whispered, her voice hoarse from tears.

Turning to their son, she placed her hand over his half opened eyes, and shut them too before bursting into tears again. 

Everything was fine just an hour ago. They were all just chatting happily in this same room an hour ago before she stepped out to the grocery store, only to return home to a nightmare. 

Her tears flowed like a river in high turbidity as she hugged her son's lifeless body. For how long she stayed like that, she didn’t know. Minutes? Hours? 

The dusk turned to full night, and silence returned.

And then she saw it—scrawled on the wall in what she could only guess was blood.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID YES!!!”

Her tears froze. Her breath caught.

What?

She leaned forward, eyes locked on the message. The words stared back at her like a ghost, one she recognized from a past she had buried.

“No,” she whispered. “It...it can’t be...”

But the memories clawed their way up from the dark.

Ten years ago, a man was once interested in her but she had rejected him. Told him no when he proposed, when he said he’d give her the world. She was nineteen, and he was thirty-five—rich, controlling, and dangerous. She didn’t want that kind of life. He hadn’t taken it well and still came after her for a few weeks before he vanished. Or so she thought.

Years passed and she married Nathan, the kindest man she’d ever known. A year after their marriage they had Jamie—their light, their everything, and together they lived a quiet and peaceful life. A life she's always desired. Never in her widest and scariest nightmares did she imagine that her past will catch up to her, and that too, in the most brutal way ever.

She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, bile rising to her throat.

Was this... was this revenge?

Soon the sound of sirens hurled lousily outside, but her ears had gone deaf to whatever sound that wasn't her husband and son's voices currently playing in her head. Someone must’ve heard her scream earlier and called the police. 

Red and blue lights flashed outside, casting long shadows across the blood-smeared room, but she was blind to it all. 

Officers burst through the door, shouting orders. Guns drawn, flashing torches inside the room but none of it caught her attention. 

Then they saw her. Saw them.

Someone grabbed her arm, “Ma’am, you need to come with us.”

She didn’t fight. She couldn’t. Her gaze never left the message on the wall, it reeled in her mind continuously.

The officers relieved her of the bodies and helped her to her feet that gave away as soon as they stood. The officers quickly grabbed her before she could reach the floor, and slowly, they led her to one of the vans outside. 

She sat in the van, asking herself, was this just a dream? Was this just a nightmare she'd wake up from tomorrow? 

Soon an ambulance drove into the compound, paramedics rushed out with stretchers. In some minutes they emerged from the house with her husband and son in each stretcher, each of them covered in white cloth. 

Aria's heart wrenched over, her tears resuming. 

Moments later, she felt a soft tap on her arm, and she turned with dull, sunken eyes. 

"We've arrived at the station, ma'am," the officer spoke. She didn't even notice the van moved at all.

With the officer's help, she stepped out of the van and made her way to into the building.

The fluorescent lights of the station buzzed overhead. Aria sat in the interrogation room, wrapped in a thin blanket, her hands stained red.

“Mrs. Kane,” the detective said gently, sliding into the seat across from her. “I’m Detective Holloway. I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.”

She nodded numbly, her voice gone.

“Was there anyone who might have wanted to hurt your husband? Or you?” The detective asked.

She hesitated.

That message.

The man.

She hadn’t spoken his name in years. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she recalled his name properly. 

"Marius Velkoz," she spoke the name aloud. It tasted like venom.

The detective eyes flew at her as he registered the name. "Ma'am, we're being serious, please be serious so that we can help you." 

Aria's eyes—empty and dark, finally met his. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Detective Holloway’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll look into it.”

But Aria saw the doubt. She knew exactly what that meant.

She was on her own.