The Devil’s Deal

The Devil’s Deal

Evan Fletcher was desperate. The kind of desperate that made him drive across town in the dead of night, hands shaking on the steering wheel, stomach twisted into a knot. It wasn’t like him—he was a man of plans, of caution. But tonight, caution had failed him. Tonight, he was ready to risk it all.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the decrepit building that stood like a scar on the edge of the city. The sign hanging above the door had long since lost its letters, but Evan knew the name well: Beckett & Co., a law firm that hadn’t appeared in any directory in over two decades. A firm that, by all accounts, shouldn’t have existed anymore.

But when you need something—when you’re willing to pay any price to save everything you’ve built—it doesn’t matter if the firm’s existence is a lie.

Evan stepped out of the car, his leather shoes clicking against the cracked pavement. The night air was heavy, the kind of humid heat that made your skin stick to your bones, but Evan hardly noticed. His eyes were fixed on the building in front of him, an old mansion-turned-office, its windows dark and lifeless. There was no light to guide him, but he didn’t need it. He had been here before, in his dreams, in his nightmares. He knew the way.

He approached the door, hesitated for just a moment, then pushed it open.

Inside, the air was cooler, the silence suffocating. A single lamp cast an eerie glow across the room, revealing rows of bookshelves lined with old, yellowed books. The scent of musty paper mixed with something darker—something almost metallic, like iron. Evan’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped further inside.

At the far end of the room, behind a desk piled high with papers, sat a figure. The man was dressed in an old-fashioned black suit, his hair slicked back neatly, his face pale and sharp—unnaturally sharp. His eyes glinted in the lamplight, the color an unnatural shade of gold, almost feline.

"You came," the man said, his voice smooth, unsettlingly calm. "I wondered when you would finally make your way here."

Evan swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. "I need your help."

The man leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "Of course. Everyone needs something. But I don’t give anything away for free. Not anymore."

Evan clenched his fists, his mind racing. “I... I have the money,” he said. “I’ll pay whatever you want. Just... just make it go away. Make it all go away."

The man tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Ah, so you’ve come to make a deal. You think money is enough to settle your soul’s debt?" He smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You misunderstand. There are things that cannot be bought, no matter how many zeros you attach to them."

Evan’s hands trembled. The weight of the man’s words pressed down on him like a physical force, but he didn’t care. His business, his family, everything was crumbling. The debts, the betrayals, the ruinous decisions—it was all too much. He couldn’t face it. Not alone.

"Please," Evan begged, his voice breaking. "I can’t lose everything. I’ll do anything—anything."

The man’s gaze softened, almost pitying. "Anything?" he repeated. "That’s a dangerous word. People who say 'anything' rarely understand the cost of what they’re about to buy."

Evan’s heart skipped. "What’s the price?"

The man stood and walked around the desk slowly, each step deliberate, echoing in the silence of the room. When he stopped, he was standing right in front of Evan. There was something hypnotic about him, something drawing him in, making it hard to breathe.

"Your soul," the man said softly, his voice like velvet. "I’ll take it. In exchange for what you want—wealth, power, redemption—whatever you need. But you will pay, in the end. Always."

Evan’s eyes widened, but before he could speak, the man slid a piece of paper in front of him, along with a pen. The contract was old, the paper brittle, like it had been sitting in this room for centuries. In the center, there was a single clause, written in dark ink.

Sign here, and you will have everything you desire. But remember, nothing comes without a price.

For a moment, Evan hesitated. His mind screamed at him to run—to tear the paper in half and walk away. But his eyes drifted back to the fine print, to the bold signature line, and in that instant, he knew. He had nothing left to lose.

He picked up the pen.