Aria's POV
My father made a deal with the devil.
I stare at the photo until my eyes burn. Dad's face smiling at the camera, his eyes glowing that impossible blue. He looks happy. Powerful. Alive.
Three years before Veronica's car "accident" killed him.
What if it wasn't murder? What if his deal ran out and the devil collected?
No. The letter Eddie gave me was real. Dad wrote that Veronica threatened him. That he was scared.
But what if he was scared because his powers were fading? What if he knew his time was up and he was trying to stop Veronica before—
My phone rings. The FBI agent again.
I answer. "My father made a deal too."
"Yes." Agent Winters sounds unsurprised. "David Chen traded ten years for the ability to build his tech empire and protect his family. When his time ran out, Veronica made sure his death looked like her doing. She wanted everyone to fear her. To think she was powerful enough to kill a devil-deal maker."
"But she didn't actually kill him?"
"No. Ezekiel did. Through the contract." A pause. "That's what happens when your time runs out, Aria. The devil collects. Your body just... stops. Heart attack. Stroke. Accident. Whatever looks most natural. Your father had two days left when his car went into that river."
Two days. Dad died knowing the end was coming.
"Washington Square Park," I say. "One hour. I'll be there."
I hang up and start walking. My mind spins with questions, but one thought cuts through everything else:
I need to make my thirty years count. Because when the clock runs out, there's no appeal. No second chance. Just death.
But first—
I check my watch: 6:47 PM. The meeting with Agent Winters isn't until 8:00 PM. That gives me over an hour.
And I know exactly how to use it.
The gang members who beat me and killed that boy—they're still out there. Still hurting people. And according to the text I intercepted, they have another "job" tonight.
Time to show them what real power looks like.
I find them in the same alley. Of course they come back—predators always return to successful hunting grounds.
Three men. Red bandanas. The leader has his knife out again, holding it to a woman's throat. She's maybe fifty, wearing a waitress uniform, crying and begging.
"We told you," the leader snarls. "Protection money is due every Friday. You're three weeks late."
"I have kids!" the woman sobs. "I can't afford—"
"Then maybe we take one of your kids instead. Sell them to someone who can afford to feed them."
White-hot rage burns through the ice in my chest.
I step from the shadows. I'm wearing the black hoodie from the pawn shop, hood pulled low. My eyes glow red in the darkness.
"Let her go."
All three men spin toward me. The leader's face goes pale. "You. You're that crazy girl from last week—"
"I'm not a girl." My voice is cold. Deadly. "I'm your reckoning."
The second man pulls out a gun. "I don't care what you are. You're dead."
He fires.
I move before the bullet reaches me—ducking, rolling, closing the distance between us in two seconds. My hand snaps out and breaks his wrist. The gun clatters to the ground.
The man screams.
"Run," I tell the woman.
She doesn't need to be told twice. She scrambles out of the alley, disappearing into the night.
The leader charges me with his knife. "You ruined our business! You put my brother in the hospital!"
"Your brother beat a fifteen-year-old kid to death." I catch his wrist mid-swing and twist. Bones crack. "Did you expect a medal?"
He collapses, clutching his broken arm.
The third man backs away, terrified. "What are you?"
"Justice." I pull out a knife I took from one of Veronica's dead men. "And I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again."
I carve words into the brick wall while they watch, paralyzed with fear:
JUSTICE SEES YOU
"Here's what's going to happen," I say, turning back to them. "You're going to go to the police station. You're going to confess every crime you've ever committed. Every person you've hurt. Every life you've destroyed."
"Why would we do that?" the leader gasps.
"Because if you don't, I'll find you again." I let my eyes flash brighter. "And next time, I won't be merciful. I'll break more than your wrists. I'll destroy your lives the way you destroyed others. Your families, your friends, everyone you care about—I'll make them know what monsters you are."
"You're insane!"
"No." I step closer. "I'm what happens when good people run out of patience with evil ones. Now go. Confess. Or spend the rest of your short lives looking over your shoulders."
They run, stumbling over each other in their panic.
I stand alone in the alley, breathing hard. My hands shake—not from fear or adrenaline, but from the realization of what I just did.
I terrorized them. Threatened their families. Became exactly the kind of monster I hated.
But they'll confess. They'll face justice. Danny and that woman and everyone else they hurt will get closure.
The ends justify the means. Right?
"Impressive work."
I spin around. A figure leans against the alley entrance—not Ezekiel this time. Someone new.
A man in his twenties with dark skin and a scarred face. His eyes glow green. Another devil-deal maker.
"Who are you?" I demand.
"Name's Rafael. Rafe to friends." He pushes off the wall, walking toward me. His movements are casual but controlled. Dangerous. "I've been hunting these guys for weeks. Human traffickers operating in my territory. Was about to take them down myself when you showed up."
"Your territory?"
"East Side. Everything from 14th Street to Houston." He stops a few feet away, studying me. "You're new. Three, four days max. I can smell the fresh devil-deal on you."
"How many of us are there?" The question bursts out.
"In New York? Maybe twenty active contracts." Rafe shrugs. "Ezekiel likes this city. Lots of desperate people. Lots of injustice. Perfect recruiting ground."
Twenty. Twenty people with devil powers walking around the city.
"Why haven't I heard about this?" I ask.
"Because most deal-makers stay hidden. Use their powers quietly for personal gain. Only idiots like me and you become vigilantes." He grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Speaking of which—Lady Justice, right? That's what the news is calling you."
"I didn't choose that name."
"Names don't matter. Actions do." Rafe nods at my message on the wall. "You planning to save the whole city? Stop every criminal? Fix every broken system?"
"Someone has to."
"Noble." His green eyes flash. "Stupid, but noble. Let me guess—you traded fifteen years thinking that's plenty of time to change the world. Clean up the streets. Make everything better."
"What's your point?"
"My point is I thought the same thing two years ago. Traded ten years to stop the cartel that murdered my family." His voice goes flat. "You know what I learned? The system's too broken. For every monster you stop, three more rise up. You can't win, Lady Justice. You can only survive."
"I don't believe that."
"You will." He turns to leave, then pauses. "Word of advice—stay away from the other deal-makers. Most of them aren't heroes. They're just people with power who stopped caring about consequences. Like your stepmother."
My blood runs cold. "You know about Veronica?"
"Everyone knows about Veronica Chen. She's the worst kind of deal-maker—one who uses her powers for profit instead of justice." Rafe looks back at me. "She's also got three years of experience and a network of corrupt cops and politicians protecting her. You go after her now, you'll die."
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." His expression softens slightly. "Look, I'm not trying to scare you off. Just warning you. If you really want to survive long enough to make a difference, you need allies. People who understand what you're going through."
"Are you offering?"
"Maybe." Rafe pulls out a phone and sends me a text—my burner pings. "That's my number. You need backup or advice, call me. But don't trust everyone with glowing eyes. Some of us made deals for the right reasons. Others just wanted power."
He vanishes into the shadows before I can respond.
I check my watch: 7:43 PM. Seventeen minutes until I meet Agent Winters.
My phone buzzes. Not a call—a news alert:
BREAKING: CEO Damien Thorne Arrested at Crime Scene. Police Say He Was Working With Vigilante "Lady Justice"
Below the headline, a photo of Damien in handcuffs, being led out of the warehouse.
My chest tightens. He sacrificed himself so I could escape. Now his reputation is destroyed because of me.
Another text comes through. Unknown number:
"Your boyfriend is in holding cell 7 at the 15th precinct. He'll be transferred to maximum security in two hours. After that, getting him out becomes... difficult. If you care about him at all, move fast. —A Friend"
I stare at the message. It could be a trap. Could be Veronica trying to lure me into the open.
But Damien saved me. Twice. First on the rooftop with his warning, then at the warehouse with his sacrifice.
I can't leave him to rot in prison for my sake.
But Agent Winters has information about my father. About Ezekiel. About the truth behind everything.
Two directions. Two urgent needs. Only one of me.
I close my eyes and make a choice.
Then I start running toward the 15th precinct.
Agent Winters will have to wait. Because I'm not the kind of person who abandons her allies.
Even if that ally is a cold CEO who probably doesn't need my help anyway.
Even if it's a trap.
Even if I'm about to do something spectacularly stupid.
My eyes flash red as I run through the dark streets.
Lady Justice is about to break into a police station.
This should be interesting.