Page 2 of Demon Daddy's Little Girl

"Mama?" Rose's fingers dig into my skirts.

"Shh, sweetling. Just watch your flowers." I stroke her curls, keeping my movements calm despite my racing pulse. Through gaps in the crowd, I glimpse crimson uniforms converging on the spice merchant's stall.

A figure in dark clothing vaults over a display of saffron, sending precious spices scattering across cobblestones. The pungent aroma fills the air as feet trample the golden threads.

"There goes our meeting," I breathe, bile rising in my throat. Our contact was supposed to approach us near the spice merchant. Now guards swarm the area, their sharp eyes scanning faces in the crowd.

I sigh. I'll have to figure something else out.

"Okay, how many did you-"

My heart stops. The small hand that was clutching mine moments ago is gone. I whirl around, scanning the crowd for those familiar honey-blonde curls.

"Rose?" My voice cracks. "Rose!"

Bodies press against me as merchants return to their stalls. I shove through them, not caring about the curses thrown my way. The spice merchant still argues with the guards, gesturing at his scattered wares. But I can't focus on anything except the absence of my daughter's warmth.

"She was just here. She was right here." I push past a group of women examining fabrics, checking behind every stall and cart. Each second without her feels like a knife twisting deeper.

A child's laugh catches my attention - but it's a dark-haired boy chasing his sister. Not my Rose. Not her violet eyes or delicate features that mirror her father's.

"Excuse me-" I grab the arm of a passing vendor. "My daughter, she's four, honey-blonde curls-"

He shrugs off my grip, already turning away. Of course. I'm just another desperate woman in worn clothes, not worth his time.

The market square stretches endlessly in every direction. Rose could be anywhere. Someone could have noticed her unusual eyes, realized what she is. My legs threaten to give out as memories of her grandfather's rage surface - how he'd killed his own son for loving me.

"Think, Ada." I press my hands against my temples. Rose knows to stay close in crowds. She wouldn't wander far. Unless...

The moonvine stall. The flowers she'd been watching earlier.

I race back through the market, dodging carts and shoppers. The violet petals still shimmer in the sunlight, but there's no sign of Rose among the blooms.

"Rose!" My voice rises above the market's din. "Rose, where are you?"

A woman selling ribbons catches my eye. "The little girl with the pretty eyes? She went that way." She points toward an alley between two buildings. "Seemed in quite a hurry."

My blood runs cold. Rose knows better than to go into alleys alone. Someone must have led her there.

I sprint toward the narrow passage, my heart thundering against my ribs. "Please," I whisper to whatever gods might listen. "Please let her be safe."

I shove through the crowd, my voice hoarse from calling Rose's name. Every second without her feels like drowning. The risk of drawing attention doesn't matter - nothing matters except finding her.

A flash of blue fabric near the guard station sends ice through my veins. My legs nearly give out as I spot a small figure ina dress the same shade as Rose's, standing beside a guard in crimson uniform.

"No, no, no." The words spill from my lips as I push past a group of merchants. If they've discovered who she is...

Please, no.

2

DEZOTH

The market bustles with its usual chaos - merchants hawking wares, patrons haggling prices, the occasional pickpocket testing my patience. I scan the crowd from my position near the fountain, marking potential troublemakers while my guard patrol circles the perimeter.

A small impact against my legs breaks my concentration. I look down, shocked that anyone would slam into me. But then I see tiny hands steady themselves against my leather boots, and I freeze at the sight of brilliant violet eyes gazing up at me with unbridled curiosity.

Demon eyes. On a human child.

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