When Devils Come Calling

Sofia's POV

I grabbed the baseball bat I kept under the counter and swung it at the glass door.

CRASH!

The door exploded into a thousand pieces, but before I could climb through the broken window, strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

"Easy there, tiger." The voice was smooth and calm, like honey mixed with danger. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

I spun around, still clutching the bat. Four men stood in my store, and they were nothing like the scary guy from earlier. These men wore expensive suits that probably cost more than my entire month's rent. They looked like movie stars, but their eyes held secrets that made my stomach twist.

The one who'd spoken had dark hair and calculating eyes that seemed to see everything at once. Next to him stood a guy with kind eyes but hands that looked like they could crush bones. The third man had a charming smile that didn't reach his eyes, and the fourth one stared at me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve.

"Sofia Martinez," the first man said. It wasn't a question.

"How do you know my name?" I raised the bat higher, even though my arms were already getting tired.

"We know lots of things about you," the charming one said with a grin. "Like how you drink three cups of coffee every morning, how you read romance novels when you think nobody's watching, and how your favorite hiding spot as a kid was under your father's old truck."

My blood turned to ice. "Who are you people?"

"Friends of your father," the quiet one finally spoke. His voice was cold as winter.

"My father didn't have friends like you."

The man with kind eyes stepped forward. "Vincent Martinez owed us money. A lot of money. When someone dies owing a debt, that debt passes to family."

"That's not how it works!" I shouted, swinging the bat in his direction. "You can't just transfer someone's problems to their kids!"

He caught the bat mid-swing without even blinking. The wood splintered in his grip like it was made of paper.

"In our world, that's exactly how it works," he said gently, like he was explaining something simple to a child.

"Your world? What world? Who are you?"

The calculating man stepped closer. "We're businessmen, Sofia. Your father made a deal with our organization. He didn't keep his end of the bargain."

"What kind of deal?"

"The kind that gets people killed when they break it."

I backed toward the broken door, glass crunching under my feet. "I don't care what kind of deal he made. I don't have any money. Look around! Does this look like the store of someone who can pay off debts?"

"We're not here for money," the charming one said, his smile getting wider.

"Then what do you want?"

"You."

The word hung in the air like a death sentence. I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Me? Why would you want me?"

"Because," the cold one said, "you're worth more than money."

I didn't wait to hear more. I spun around and ran toward the back exit, jumping over boxes of books and dodging around displays. My heart hammered against my ribs as I reached for the back door handle.

Locked.

I fumbled for my keys, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold them. Behind me, I could hear calm footsteps following me. They weren't even running. They knew I had nowhere to go.

"Sofia," the kind-eyed man called. "This doesn't have to be scary. We're not going to hurt you."

"Then let me go!"

"We can't do that."

I finally got the key in the lock and yanked the door open. The alley behind my store had never looked so beautiful. Freedom was just a few steps away.

I made it exactly three feet before someone grabbed my wrist.

"Sorry about this," the charming one said, and I felt a sharp pinch in my arm.

"What did you..." The world started spinning. My legs felt like jelly, and the alley began to blur around the edges.

"Sleepy time, princess."

"Don't... call me..." I tried to finish the sentence, but my tongue felt too heavy. The ground rushed up to meet me, and then everything went black.

I woke up to the feeling of something soft against my cheek.

For a moment, I thought I was home in my own bed. Maybe everything had been a nightmare. Maybe the scary customer and the four men in suits were just products of too much stress and too little sleep.

Then I opened my eyes.

This wasn't my bedroom.

The bed I was lying on was huge, with sheets that felt like silk. The walls were painted a warm cream color, and expensive-looking artwork hung in golden frames. A crystal chandelier sparkled above my head, throwing rainbow patterns across the ceiling.

It was the most beautiful room I'd ever seen.

It was also a prison.

I sat up quickly, my head spinning from the sudden movement. There were no windows. Not a single one. The only light came from the chandelier and some fancy lamps on side tables.

I stumbled to the door and grabbed the handle.

Locked.

"Hello?" I called out, pounding on the thick wood. "HELLO! Let me out of here!"

Silence.

I ran my hands along the walls, looking for another way out. Maybe there was a hidden door or a vent I could crawl through. But the walls were solid, and the ceiling was too high to reach.

I was trapped.

My phone was gone. My purse was gone. Even my shoes were missing, replaced with soft slippers I'd never seen before.

"This isn't happening," I whispered to myself. "This can't be happening."

But it was happening. I'd been kidnapped by four strangers who claimed my dead father owed them money. They'd brought me to this fancy prison and locked me inside like some kind of princess in a tower.

Except princesses in fairy tales got rescued by princes.

I had nobody coming to save me.

I slumped against the door, sliding down until I was sitting on the thick carpet. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, and for the first time since my father died, I let myself cry. Really cry.

I cried for my empty bank account and my failing bookstore. I cried for my father and all the secrets he'd kept from me. I cried for my simple, boring life that had been ripped away from me in one terrifying night.

Most of all, I cried because I was scared. More scared than I'd ever been in my life.

That's when I heard the footsteps in the hallway outside my door.

Heavy boots walking slowly, like whoever was wearing them had all the time in the world. The footsteps stopped right outside my room.

A key turned in the lock.

The door handle moved.

I scrambled backward as the door swung open, revealing a figure standing in the shadows of the hallway.

"Hello, Sofia," a deep voice said. "Time for us to have a little chat."