Page 32 of Delivered to the Devil

I type the last words and hit send, and as if on cue, the front door opens.

Startling, I drop the phone. It clatters to the floor with a loud sound, but I’m too focused on the commotion in the hall to glance down and see if it broke.

Two seconds later, Janos and the scrawny man appear. I’m frozen in place, my hands still folded like they’re holding the phone.

“Start packing,” Janos says.

My eyes flicker to the moving boxes at his side. “Why?”

“Gabor wants you somewhere better.”

I gulp. There’s no telling what Gabor’s idea of a better place looks like.A dungeon, a dank basement, or chained to his bed?“And what’s that?”

“A new apartment. Bigger and better.”

I look Janos over, not convinced this move is as harmless as he makes it sound, but I shove down the worries as I notice his casual clothing. Whatever hell awaits me isn’t imminent. My hands relax as I take in his blue jeans and gray T-shirt. He’s not here to prepare me for Gabor. He’d wear a suit for that.

The other man is dressed in his usual uniform, though. The dark suit hangs loosely on his thin frame, and his shoulders are slouched, his mouth set in a perpetual sneer—a far cry from the graceful strength of the man beside him. He’s a poor excuse of a man, really. A lowly guard in an inferior position. Janos is always the one in control when Gabor is not around. I doubt this man could even touch a hair on my head without Janos’s permission.

Does he even hold any real power over me? If I were to provoke him, could he do anything about it?

The sight of Janos’s casual clothes must have made me rash because I find myself shooting the thin man a condescending glare. Rage comes alive in his eyes, but he remains passive as ever, and I can’t help the mocking smile that pulls at my lips.

Suddenly feeling overly courageous, I fold my arms over my chest and direct my glare at Janos. “I’m not moving.”

I barely get the words out before the sight of his hard features snuffs out my bravery. I try my best to hold on to it, but his tall, wide stance is pure danger, his blunt gaze the same, and I end up hugging myself awkwardly as he stares me down.

“You have two hours.” He places the boxes against the wall, then turns the crimson armchair to face the room instead of the bed and takes a seat. A king on a throne in the middle of it all.

“Do I have to move?” I ask with downcast eyes, suddenly all too aware of what’s happening. Once more, I have no say. They are forcing me from my home, and I don’t have the slightest idea where they’re taking me. “Will you at least tell me where I’m going?”

“Get to it,” Janos says without casting me another glance as he takes out his phone.

Needing to get away from the two men, I grab a box, go through the hallway, and into the small kitchen to start there. I might not have many things I’m attached to, but I want to bring my own stuff, and I guess I’ll need kitchenware and plates. At least, I hope I will.

A large shadow appears above me, and I look up to find Janos blocking the door with his broad frame. I feel like a tiny mouse, sitting here on the floor, looking up at this enormous man.

His eyes narrow slightly, and I realize my breathing is coming in heavy drags. Is it my kneeling he reacts to? It’s not on purpose. I was like this when he came in. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m in this very humble position beneath him.

“The kitchen is fully equipped.” His features are impassive, but the intensity in his eyes shines bright. “The rest of the apartment too. Just pack your clothes and anything else you don’t want to get rid of.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me with a terrible urge to crawl after him and sit by his feet.

Shaking my head, I force my focus back to the packing.

I go through all the cupboards and end up taking only two mugs that I like. I consider packing everything just to spite Janos, but I don’t have the energy nor the need to go against him like that.

Next, I proceed to the bathroom to gather my toiletries, then on to the main room, where I pack my clothes, books, and a few other items I want to keep.

An hour and a half later, I’m done, standing in the middle of the room, casting a hesitant glance at Janos.

He’s still in the red chair with his phone, but I think he’s been watching me more than the screen. I’ve felt it while I was packing in here, that prickling sensation at the back of my neck. But I never caught him looking.

“What about furniture?” I ask, wringing my fingers before me.

“The place is furnished.”

My eyes fall to the crimson chair he’s sitting in, and I’m gripped by a strange wistfulness.

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