Sold By My Ex, Claimed By The Devil Mafia King

ANYA'S POV

"He's losing so much blood. We need someone to save him!"

"We need blood stat!"

I blink awake, and suddenly I'm transported from the hospital room to Louise's Diner. I'm dozing at work again. I must be so tired, I dreamt of when Micah needed blood, and I was the only one who could donate to him.

We've been through a lot – Micah and I. We met at a foster home, and now we're working hard to run away from our shitty life in Chicago to Greece. Rather, I'm working so hard...Micah is yet to get a job. And although my job at Louie's dinner barely pays to cover my foster mother's hospital bills, taking care of Micah and me, I take all the extra shifts I can.

That's why right now, I feel dead on my feet from standing all day.

It's close to midnight when I clock out from Louie's Diner. My back is screaming, and my sneakers are soaked with something I really hope was just mop water. My apron clings to my waist, stiff with grease and desperation. The last customer tipped me three crumpled dollars and called me 'sweetheart' like it was a favor. My smile didn't even twitch. I'm too tired to fake it anymore.

But I don't care because I'm finally going home.... to Micah.

My phone buzzes, and it's a text from Micah

I tug it from my pocket with frozen fingers and a half-smile already forming. But the smile freezes when I see the text.

Micah: Don't bother waking me. I'm exhausted. Locked the bedroom door.

I frown. Read it once. Again. A third time before I text him back.

Me: But I brought your favorite. Grilled cheese and chocolate cake.

No reply. Just the delivered checkmark taunting me. I ignore the feeling in my chest, tuck the phone away and zip my hoodie higher, trying to convince myself he's just tired. That I'm being paranoid. That everything is fine.

It has to be fine.

I walk fast, my steps echoing off empty sidewalks. The streetlights flicker, casting long shadows. Every sound makes me twitchy- an engine purring in the distance, a drunk man yelling somewhere across the block. The city never sleeps. It just whispers threats in the dark.

By the time I reach our building, my fingers are numb and my toes ache. The stairwell reeks of weed, stale piss, and broken promises. Same as always. I pass Mrs. Dillard's cat sleeping like royalty on the banister and haul myself up the stairs two at a time.

But when I reach the apartment door... my heart stutters.

The paper bag in my hand is still warm, grease soaking slightly through the bottom. I bought the extra tzatziki because he loves it. Chicken souvlaki, too. I had to skip lunch to afford it, but it didn't matter. I hope the smile on his face will be worth it.

I twist the knob and step inside the small apartment we share.

"Micah?" I call out, soft and unsure.

My voice gets swallowed by the stale heat of the apartment. It smells like takeout and something else-metallic, almost. Like blood. No. Not blood.

Sweat. Skin. Sex.

Micah's door is slightly ajar. That's the first crack. The first little thing that doesn't feel right. He never leaves the door open. Especially since I told him I would like for us to wait until marriage. Plus, the neighborhood we live in is unsafe.

I take two steps inside, and I hear it before I see it. The sound that changes everything.

A moan.

High-pitched and needy, followed by a low grunt. I freeze, eyes locking on the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. It's cracked just enough. The lock, he said, he fixed two weeks ago, is broken again.

My body knows before my brain does. I move like I'm in a dream, slow and heavy, every step like walking through molasses.

I reach the door, and push it ajar and that's when I see the sight I'm not expecting – I see her first, she's naked, her pale thighs are wrapped around Micah's hips like they'd done it a thousand times. Her red hair is messy and wild, her nails digging into his shoulders like she owns him.

Micah.

My Micah.

His hands are wrapped around her throat, his body moving like it's never moved for me. Harder. Rougher. Like he's enjoying it.

I don't scream. I don't cry. I just stand there.

And he looks up.

"Shit," he mutters. That's all he says. No panic. No apology. No Anya, wait, I can explain.

Just one word. Detached, like I'm the wrong one for being here. Like I'm some stranger off the street. Like I haven't given him everything.

I can't breathe.

I can't feel my hands. My knees lock. My chest hollows out like someone dug into me with a knife and scooped everything out.

The bag drops from my hand. It hits the floor with a soft thud, the kind of sound no one notices. But it feels like the loudest thing in the world.

I turn and run.

Out of the apartment. Down the stairs. Into the street.

I don't know where I'm going. I just need to get away.

I pass neon signs and honking cars, a man yelling into his phone, a woman dragging a toddler behind her. Life is still happening. For everyone else. But not me.

Everything feels unreal. Like I've stepped out of my body and left the real Anya standing there in that apartment with her dreams bleeding out on the floor.

We were going to go to Greece. Save up and backpack across the islands. We said we'd make it. We said we'd never end up like the people who raised us.

Micah was my home. My constant. My family when I didn't have one. We left foster care together and promised to take care of each other. We had a dream.

I think of my foster mother in the hospital– Anna. She's the only foster parent that wasn't mean to me, the closest thing to a family to me besides Micah, but she's unconscious in the hospital and has been that way for months.

And now-

Now I have no one.

My feet carry me through streets, but I keep walking. It's only when I'm a few streets away that I realize where my legs are taking me-I'm walking towards the hospital. Usually, when I don't know where to go, I head to the hospital to check on Anna's health and just sit with her in silence.

I'm taking a shortcut through an alley when I hear footsteps behind me. Suddenly, I realize I'm not alone.

A dark voice comes from behind me, dark and sinister. "Hello Anya."