Chapter 65: Dark Magic.

“Something's wrong,” Steven concluded, panic settling in as he replayed their last conversation in his mind, searching for clues that might explain Dua's sudden absence.

“What’s wrong?” Shane asked, noticing the serious and worried expression on Steven's face.

“She fell silent abruptly, and then the line went dead. Now her phone is switched off,” Steven explained, his brow furrowing with concern.

“What did she tell you? What did you say in return?” Shane pressed, trying to piece together the puzzle.

“We had a normal conversation—I didn’t say anything that would have upset her. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be enough for her to just vanish and turn off her phone like this,” Steven replied, desperation creeping into his voice.

“What do we do now?” Shane asked, anxiety evident in his tone.

“Easy,” Steven said, determination igniting in his eyes as he pulled out his phone. With the help of a tracker he had discreetly placed in Dua's wedding ring, he traced her location.

Within minutes, he had a pin on a map. He stood abruptly, ripping off his safety overall, a fierce resolve set in his jaw.

“I’m coming with you, along with some of our men,” Shane insisted, standing up as well, readiness coursing through him.

“No,” Steven objected, shaking his head. “I’m going solo. It’s been too long since I did some exercise.” A wicked smirk danced on his lips, but there was an edge of seriousness in his gaze.

Shane sighed, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He knew exactly what this meant and what Steven was capable of when he was driven by instinct.

\---

In a dimly lit room, Dua’s eyes fluttered open, her head pounding with pain. The last thing she remembered was talking to Steven when someone struck her from behind, plunging her into darkness.

“You’re awake,” a masculine voice called from the shadows.

“Who are you?” Dua squinted into the darkness, trying to identify the figure approaching her.

A hefty man emerged, a menacing scar slicing across his face. Fear surged through her as she instinctively recoiled, attempting to put distance between them.

“Why have you brought me here?” she demanded, voice shaking.

"If you want money, I'll give it to you. Any sum of money you desire," she added, her voice steady but strained.

The man squatted before her, a wicked grin twisting his features. "What I want… is you," he spoke, his hands tracing the contours of Dua's face, sending shivers of revulsion down her spine.

With a surge of defiance, Dua swung a punch towards his gut, but he caught her fist before it landed. "Feisty," he sneered, leaning in closer. "I love feisty women." His breath was hot against her ear, overwhelming her senses with dread.

"Let go of me!" Dua demanded, yanking her fist free and taking a step back. Her heart raced; she had to maintain control.

"Let me go now while you still can," she continued firmly, though her voice quaked slightly. "Because when my husband gets here, he’ll make you wish you hadn’t."

The man burst into laughter, a cruel sound that echoed in the dimly lit room. "Your husband?" He leaned in, eyes narrowing gleefully. "What can he possibly do to me?" He slapped her forcefully, sending her sprawling to the ground, blood spilling from the corner of her lips. "How dare you threaten me?" he spat, his tone venomous.

Dua staggered to sit up, disheveled and shaken. Her blouse had torn slightly, revealing more than she intended. "Beautiful," he leered, licking his lips with a predatory look. "I must have you."

Horror washed over Dua, and she clutched her blouse tightly, fear clouding her thoughts. "No, please… don't," she whimpered.

He laughed cruelly, his voice dripping with malice. "Why should I listen to your pleas? Your husband didn’t listen to mine!"

Dua's eyes widened in shock as he touched the scar marring his face. "Your husband did this to me."

"M...my husband?" Her voice trembled, struggling to process the revelation.

"Yes, Steven Levi, The Devil." The man affirmed, a sick satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

Dua felt nauseated; she could hardly believe it. The truth twisted her heart in agony.

"That's enough talk, let's get down to business," the man sneered, pushing Dua roughly to the floor. The sound of her scream echoed in the room as she struggled against him, her heart racing with fear. She begged him to stop, her pleas echoing in the hollow space, but they fell on deaf ears, just a silent scream in the night.

Just then, a cacophony of thuds and screams erupted from outside, startling both of them. The man, momentarily distracted, stood up, fastening his belt, ready to confront whatever chaos awaited him outside. However, the moment he reached for the door, it flung open with a smash, and Steven stepped inside, his eyes glinting like blood-red coals, an icy aura radiating from him that sent shivers rippling through the room.

Upon seeing him, Dua let out an involuntary breath of relief. Hope flickered in her heart for the briefest moment before being overshadowed by the unsettling look in Steven’s eyes.

“Steven Levi.” The man’s voice quaked, though he tried to inject bravado into his tone.

Ignoring him, Steven’s gaze locked onto Dua. Relief mixed with fear washed over her as he took in her bruised state, her clothes torn and her body trembling. “How dare you touch my wife?” Steven's voice dripped with venom, and the fire in his eyes flared, illuminating the shadows around him.

In a desperate attempt to regain control, the man drew a gun, pointing it at Steven with shaky hands. But before he could pull the trigger, the weapon began to melt, twisting and warping under an unseen force. He howled in agony as the burning metal seared his palm. “Son of a bitch!!” he cursed, panic flooding his voice.

Yet Steven remained unfazed, his eyes locked on his adversary with fierce determination. The man’s screams intensified, anguish radiating through the air as he felt his blood boil inside him, a sensation unlike any other. His feet left the ground, suspended mid-air as if caught in a web of dark magic.

He moved through the air with an eerie grace, stopping momentarily before a pillar. Suddenly, a wooden beam from the ceiling splintered with a deafening crack, sending shards raining down like lethal arrows. The man was impaled against the pillar, each jagged piece embedding into his flesh, eliciting a chorus of anguished screams that echoed eerily in the stillness.

Steven finally approached Dua, squatting before her to meet her wide, disbelieving gaze. The shock in her eyes mirrored the chaos that surrounded them. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice a soft yet heavy whisper as he gathered her gently into his arms. The warmth of her body against him felt like a contrast to the cold dread settling in his chest.

With deliberate steps, he carried Dua out of the house, the air thick with smoke and the scent of destruction. As they reached the car, he paused, turning back to face the inferno he was about to unleash. With a steely resolve, he ignited the house with a flick of his wrist, flames licking up the sides like hungry beasts. The fire roared to life, illuminating the night and casting grotesque shadows against the crumbling walls.

Dua’s eyes widened in horror, disbelief turning to fear as she looked up at him. “Y…you… what are you?” she stammered, her voice trembling and barely above a whisper. Before he could respond, her consciousness slipped away, her body growing limp against him.