Page 28 of Ravaged By a Devil

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, grandma," Cain promises, giving her a polite nod.

Milly waves happily at both of us as the taxi slowly pulls away into the evening traffic. I watch the red taillights vanish down the street, my chest tight with a chaotic cocktail of relief and confusion.

The second the yellow cab merges into the main road, the fake, pleasant smile drops from my face. I turn on my heel to face Cain, standing right under the hum of the clinic's exterior lights.

I want to ask him why he pretended to be Mr. Nice Guy with my grandmother, but for some reason, I don’t. There are more important matters to address. Like Nolan.

"I want Nolan’s money returned," I say, my voice trembling with a mixture of leftover terror and cold rage. "Every single cent of it. I am not taking a dime from that scumbag."

Cain looks down at me. "Good," he says, his deep voice smooth. "I don't want you having his money anyway."

I frown, my eyebrows pulling together as I stare up at him. "Why would you care whose money I⁠—"

"I'll cover the bills," Cain interrupts casually, shifting his weight. "All of them. The back expenses, the next month's therapy, whatever else the clinic demands. Until your grandmother is back in good health.”

"No!" The word flies out of my mouth before he can even finish the sentence. "Absolutely not!"

It’s a generous offer, but I can’t suspend my worries and trauma enough to gracefully accept it.

I step into his personal space, my chest heaving as I glare up at his imposing frame. "I am not trading one mob boss for another, Cain! I will not be bought by Nolan, and I damn sure will not be bought by you. I handle my own life."

Instead of getting angry, Cain just studies my face. He gives a slow, single nod.

"Fine. I'll have my brother, Elijah, trace the transaction through the clinic's system tonight and reverse the entire wire transfer. Nolan won't get his foothold."

I let out a shaky, ragged breath, the tension in my shoulders finally collapsing as the weight of the day crashes over me. I look down at my hands, watching them tremble in the fading daylight.

"He knows where she lives, Cain," I whisper, my voice cracking under the suffocating fear I've been trying so hard to hide.

"He knows her schedule. He knows every single detail of her treatment. I thought I could handle this, but... it terrifies me. Knowing he can touch her whenever he wants."

Cain takes a step closer, his tall frame blocking out the chilly evening breeze. The dark, lethal edge in his eyes softens just enough for me to catch the unwavering understanding behind it.

"I know, doll," he says softly, his low rumble vibrating through the small space between us. "He's trying to get to you. But I won't let him lay a finger on either of you. I'll keep you safe."

My chest tightens so hard it hurts, a sudden, blinding rush of heat flooding through my body at the conviction in his voice. I swallow hard, completely, speechlessly locked under his gaze, my pulse hammering against my ribs for a reason that has nothing to do with Nolan Devlin.

Cain breaks the spell, turning his head toward the black sedan idling at the curb.

"Come on," he says, resting his hand gently against the small of my back just long enough to steer me forward. "I'll drop you off at work."

I let out a sigh, trying to steady my racing heart, and fall into step right beside him.

Over the next couple of days, the clinic reaches back out to me with the news I knew was coming: the entire lump sum payment was officially flagged for fraud and then reversed to the sender. My account balance is back in the red, and the looming debt is heavier than ever.

I have no one to blame but myself. After all, I’m the one who practically begged Cain to help return Nolan’s money. Now, I'm completely stuck, staring down a mountain of expenses I can't afford on my own.

Almost a week passes, and I’m on night shift at The Blackwood, but it’s completely impossible to concentrate on anything. Every drink I pour, every bill I count, my mind is completely consumed with terror.

Just this morning, the clinic sent an apologetic text warning me that Milly’s upcoming treatments will be put on hold until the outstanding balance is settled.

I can't let her treatment stop. I won't.

When the long, exhausting shift finally comes to an end, I retreat to the staff room, swap my sleek Blackwood uniform for my pair of casual jeans and an oversized sweater, and smooth my hair back.

I take a deep, steadying breath, trying to summon every drop of courage I have left, and walk down the quiet hallway toward the back administration rooms.

I stop outside my manager's door and push my shoulders back. I knock softly on the dark wood, waiting for George to call me in so I can swallow my pride and beg for extra shifts.