DEBORAH'S P.O.V

"I’m coming to collect. – The Devil.

The paper trembled in Mother’s hands. Black letters, scrawled like they’d been written in blood, screamed back at us.

I can’t breathe.

“He… he killed Ezekiel…” Mother’s voice cracked. “Oh God, he’s going to kill us all.”

“But why? The Don never attacks unprovoked.” I asked fearfully. “Daddy, is there any reason the Don would target us?”

Father snatched the paper from her.

“It’s because of your cursed family! You brought this on us!” His voice boomed like thunder.

“Papa…” Maribelle whispered, clutching at her black mourning dress.

“Shut your mouth, Maribelle. You’re women. You have no right to question me!” He slammed his fist on the table, and we all flinched.

“Maybe if I had a son—” His eyes burned into Mother. “But no. Useless. You gave me daughters, and now the only useful human—” He ripped the paper in half. “—is dead!”

Mother’s lips quivered, but she didn’t cry. She never cried.

I wanted to disappear into the floor. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.

What would the Don look like? A monster? A shadow with horns? What had Father done to him?

Father stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

We didn’t move.

Then Maribelle screamed—a piercing, wild scream that made my skin crawl.

She fell to the floor, clutching her stomach. “He’s gone! My husband is dead!” Her sobs echoed off the walls.

We rushed to her. Mother knelt beside her, stroking her hair. “Hush, Maribelle. You’ll hurt the baby.”

“Please think of your baby,” I added pleadingly.

Maribelle’s eyes blazed as she looked at me like I’d set fire to her heart.

“Don’t you dare pretend like you didn’t try to take my husband from me with your sinful body!” Her finger jabbed at me.

My mouth fell open. “What?”

“You thought I didn’t see the way you looked at him? You wanted my husband!”

“That’s not true!” My voice cracked, heat rushing to my cheeks.

Her face twisted with rage. “He was too good for you. You whore! You—”

“Stop it!” I shouted. “He tried to force himself on me. I never wanted him! Maybe you two deserved each other. A thief and a rapist. Only God knows what your baby will be!”

Maribelle’s mouth opened, but no sound came. Mother looked shocked.

My chest heaved.

What did I just say?

Regret sliced through me.

“I—I didn’t mean…” My voice broke. I turned away.

“I’m going to see Rachel.” My words were barely a whisper.

No one stopped me as I grabbed my shawl and slipped out into the cold night.

“Rachel, are you really sure this is going to work? I need this money. Stanford’s admissions close in three days—if I don’t pay the entrance fee, I’ll lose the scholarship.”

“Will you stop stressing? It’ll work.” She stepped closer, tugging at the hem of the black corset bodysuit she’d picked out for me.

“You look sexy,” she whispered with a smirk.

I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. My curves were compressed into the satin bodysuit, thighs bare, lips painted red like a siren. It terrified me.

“This is so wrong,” I muttered, shame twisting in my chest.

Rachel crossed her arms, bold in her own risqué outfit.

“Do you know what’s ungodly, Debbie? Watching your dreams rot because your daddy thinks your only place is on your knees or beneath a husband. He walked away when your grandpa needed him. And now, he’s denying you everything.”

I winced, but she didn’t stop.

“Do you want to go to med school or not?”

I swallowed hard. “Of course I do.”

“Then act like it.” Rachel’s usual confidence cracked, her voice softening. “I’d help you if I could—you know that. But with my mom dying and bills piling up… it’s not enough. All I’m asking is that you use what God already gave you. Dance. That’s it. Not sleep with anyone. Just dance like no one’s watching.”

I glanced at the mirror. But that’s… evil. My body is demonic.

She reached out and gently grabbed my face.

“Oh, darling. Your body isn’t the problem. Your parents made you believe it is. You’re curvy—so own it.”

Her words landed deep, shaking something old inside me.

A clap of heels in the hallway snapped me out of it.

“Girls, let’s move! Time to give these men their fantasy!” Miss Monroe, the club owner, sashayed in—her crimson dress catching every light. She tapped my behind playfully.

I flinched.

Monroe winked. “Don’t be shy, baby. Tonight’s just the start.”

Rachel handed me a glittering half-mask.

“Your body is perfect,” she whispered as she put hers on. “Let them watch.”

My hands shook as I put mine on.

The music thundered before we even stepped onstage. Deep bass shook my bones. Rachel led confidently. I followed, step by step, gripping the pole.

Something inside me cracked open. I spun. Bent. Arched. Power radiated up my spine. For once, I owned my body.

And then I saw him.

A blue-eyed man in the V.I.P. corner. His gaze sliced through me, and the music seemed to stop with it.

He smirked.

I forced myself to move again, slower now.

Crowd noise surged—cheers, whistles, bills raining down. But I only felt my own heartbeat, my thighs whining, sweat running down my spine—all reminding me how this betrayed everything I’d been taught. And I didn’t stop.

I caught a glimpse in the mirror—fire in my eyes. I was fire.

When the music cut, Rachel practically shoved me offstage. I was breathless, flushed—and not sorry. I wanted that again.

“Girl!” she said, grinning. “You were fire. Miss Monroe never looked so alive.”

I barely heard her. My gaze darted to the V.I.P. corner. He was gone. My chest sank.

Monroe approached, clapping. “Now that was a show. You’ve got a gift, sugar. Stick around—you could be something special.”

I shook my head, chest burning. “I’m just here for tonight. I needed the money.”

Monroe gave Rachel a sideways look. “We’ll talk later. Let’s count the profits.”

“How much did we make?”

Rachel turned to me, pride shining. “You made five thousand,” she said with a grin.

“Five what?” My voice shook.

“Five thousand dollars, Debbie. You’re going to med school.”

My mouth fell open. “I got the entrance fee. I’m going to med school.”

“Girl, the fee’s 3,000. You’ve even got extra.”

Her hug squeezed tears out of me. “Now keep it safe—don’t let your family touch it.”

I stared at the stack of cash, its weight in my hand. My chest twisted.

“They paid that much to see me dance,” I whispered.

Rachel frowned. “Shut that down. You earned every cent. You were amazing.”

Miss Monroe returned with our shares. I noticed mine was heavier.

“Let’s split it,” I said.

Her face hardened. “Don’t you dare.”

“Rach—”

“No. You need this more than I do. You deserve med school. I’ve never seen anyone fight like you. Don’t give up now.”

Tears stung. I hugged her tight. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me cry—you’ll ruin the mascara.” She laughed and walked off with Monroe, leaving me heading to the changing room.

Two men whispered intensely by the stairway. I ignored them and kept walking.

“Are you sure you saw him?”

“I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere, Boss.”

“He shouldn’t be here. That bastard’s stepping on our turf.”

“We wait till he’s outside. Then we shoot—but make it clean.”

My blood ran cold.

I slipped behind a curtain as they spotted me. My heart thudded. There he was—Blue Eyes—talking to someone. The two men moved closer. I couldn’t stay silent.

I yanked him inside the dressing room.

He froze. “What the hell?”

“Shh—” I gasped. “Someone is trying to kill you.”

His cold blue eyes flared, but he didn’t move. Then footsteps grew nearer.

I grabbed his jacket and pushed him onto the couch. He stared, confused.

“What are you—”

I pressed my lips to his. His eyes widened, shock and something else sparking in them.

The furious pounding on the door started. I pressed my body close to his—I had to shield him. They wouldn’t see his face through me.

The door opened.

One voice lingered, low and weirdly reverent: “Sorry, didn’t know anyone was here.”

Another laughed. “You’ll be servicing me next, baby. I’ll talk to your boss.” Then footsteps. They left.

I released a breath I didn’t know I’d held. I moved, stepping off him—but his hand shot out and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. I stumbled, breath shaking against him.

He kissed me—fast and deep. His jaw slack like a prayer, his curls tangled in my fingers.

My hands clawed at him, tugging him closer, hips rotating across his lap until I was mindless, unhinged, and needy.

His lips tore away from mine, and his eyes dragged me in, lazy and dangerous.

His hand, still bracketing my jaw, slipped between us. He sucked a finger into his mouth, slow and deliberate, holding my gaze.

Then he shoved my lace panties aside and thrust that finger inside me without warning.

It took a long while for me to realize that I was crying—not sobbing, but tears streaming down silently, my chest rising and falling against his. He didn’t stop.

His lips brushed my temple like a whisper of sin, and his thumb rubbed circles into my thigh as if he owned every piece of me.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against my skin. His voice was low, calm, and devastating.

I shuddered. “I’m… I’m not—”

“You are.” His blue eyes caught mine. “You’re the most divine thing I’ve ever seen.”

His words shattered me. No man had ever looked at me like this—like I was power and softness and everything in between.

I didn’t know how much time passed before reality began crashing back. My cheeks flamed as my hands flew to cover my chest.

“Oh God… what did I do?” My voice cracked. “This is… this is wrong. I shouldn’t…”

He caught my wrists gently but firmly. “Don’t you dare regret this.”

“But I—”

“You saved my life.” His gaze softened for the first time. “And I don’t forget debts.”

My stomach twisted. “I didn’t save you for… for this.”

He chuckled darkly. “I know.”

I scrambled off his lap, tugging my bodysuit back into place. My reflection in the mirror nearly sent me into hysterics—red lips swollen, hair tousled, eyes glassy.

What would Mother say? What would God say?

Something broke in me. My mind soared, leaving my body.

I backed away.

“I… I have to go.”

I stumbled for the door.

“Try not to get killed.”

He didn’t move. His voice stopped me.

“What is your name?”

“Deborah.”

“Stay with me tonight, Deborah.”

I froze.

“What?"

“Stay with me tonight.”

"I can’t."

“Yes, you can.”

He stood up and pressed a kiss to my temple.

Then my neck.

Then my cheek.

"I really can't."

He didn’t blink.

He pressed another kiss to my cleavage.

This time his hand followed his lips.

By this time, my common sense no longer helped me.

"Stay." A kiss.

"With." Another kiss.

"Me." Another kiss.

"Tonight." Another kiss.

"Okay."