CONTRACTED TO THE DEVIL'S BODYGUARD

EPISODE 1 - THE MARK

365:00:00

The rain was the kind that drowned sirens.

The kind that washed blood off the pavement and secrets off the city.

Ava Lane was cutting through the alley behind Blackwood Corp to get home faster. She was a broke art student, juggling 2 jobs, zero time for detours, and even less time for trouble. Her sketchbook was tucked under her arm, pages already warping from the drizzle. She had a 7am shift at the cafe, a midterm to fail, and rent due in 3 days.

That’s when she heard the crash.

Metal screamed. Glass shattered.

Not the sound of a fender bender. The sound of something being ripped out of the world.

A black car was flipped in the middle of the street. No plates. No logo. Just matte black armor and tinted windows that looked like they could stop bullets.

Smoke curled out of the hood, but there was no fire. Just cold, wrong-smelling air.

Ava dropped her sketchbook. It landed with a wet slap.

"Hello?" she called out. Her voice sounded small against the rain. "Is anyone"

The driver’s door was caved in like something had punched it from the inside. Inside, a man. Late 20s maybe. Black suit, tailored, soaked through. Blood on his temple.

But it wasn’t red.

It was black. Thick. Like ink. Like oil.

It dripped slow down his face and hissed where it hit the wet street.

His eyes snapped open.

Gold.

Not human. Not even close. Vertical pupils, burning like coins held to a flame.

Stranger: (voice rough, like he hadn’t used it in years) "Don’t touch me."

Ava: "You’re bleeding. Don’t be an idiot."

She reached in and pulled him out. He was heavy. Too heavy. Like his bones were made of something denser than human. The moment her hands touched his arm, fire lanced up her forearm.

Pain. Sharp. Deep.

She yanked her sleeve up.

A sigil. Three lines, shaped like a claw. It glowed once, hot red, under her skin, then vanished, leaving a faint ache behind.

Sirens in the distance. But not ambulances.

Tires. Multiple cars. Coming fast. Coordinated.

The stranger grabbed her wrist. His grip was freezing. It burned worse than the sigil.

Stranger: "Run. They’re not here for me."

Ava: "What are you?"

Before he could answer, a black SUV screeched to a stop 10 feet away. Doors opened. Men in tactical masks got out. No badges. Guns raised. They moved like they’d done this before.

The stranger shoved her behind a dumpster and stood.

For one second, his shadow stretched wrong. It grew too tall, too wide. Too many arms. Too many teeth in a smile that wasn’t a smile. The air went cold and the rain stopped hitting the ground around him, like it was afraid to.

Then the alley went dark.

When Ava opened her eyes, he was gone.

The car was gone.

The men were gone.

Only the rain and the smell of ozone, sharp and metallic. Like lightning had struck and missed.

It all seemed like an illusion. A dream. Deja vu wearing a stranger’s face.

Her wrist hurt.

She looked down. Nothing. No mark. Just rain.

The Next Morning

6:03 AM. Her apartment.

Ava was late for her shift. She stumbled into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and rolled up her sleeve to wash her hands.

The sigil was back.

Burned into her skin, right over her pulse. Three clawed lines, glowing faint red. It pulsed once, in time with her heart.

And floating in the corner of her vision, translucent, like a phone notification she couldn’t swipe away:

365:00:00

The numbers ticked down to 364:23:59

Ava: "What the hell."

Her phone buzzed on the sink. Unknown number.

Text: `Vessel confirmed. House Blackthorn. Do not leave your residence. Extraction in 20.`

Ava threw the phone. It skidded across the tile.

Ava: "I didn’t sign anything! I didn’t agree to"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Hard. Military. Three precise hits.

Voice from the door, low and cold. Like winter pressed to glass.

Ryder: "Open the door, Ava Lane."

Ryder: "I’m your bodyguard. And you’ve got 364 days to live."

She looked at the sigil. It pulsed again. Hotter this time.

From outside, another sound. Softer.

Boots on the fire escape. Moving fast.

Not Ryder’s.

Someone else got the text too.

And they weren’t here to protect her.

...TO BE CONTINUED......

CONTRACTED TO THE DEVIL'S BODYGUARD

EPISODE 2 - THE BODYGUARD

364:23:41

Knock. Knock. Knock. The door begins to bang.

The sound didn’t echo. It cut.

Ava froze with her sleeve still rolled up, the red sigil pulsing like a second heartbeat. Steam from the shower fogged the mirror, but she could still see it, the timer in the corner of her vision ticking down.

364:23:40

Her phone was still face-down on the bathroom tile. Another buzz. Another unknown number.

`Do not open the door to anyone but House Blackthorn.`

Too late. Someone was already at her door. And someone else was on the fire escape.

Ryder: "Ava. Last warning. Open the door."

His voice was right on the other side of the wood. Low. Controlled. The kind of calm that came right before violence.

Ava backed away. "How do you know my name?" Her voice cracked. "How did you find me?"

Ryder: "Because the mark chose you. And House Blackthorn doesn’t lose what’s ours."

A crash from the window. Glass.

Ava spun. A shadow dropped onto her fire escape. Taller than a man. He was Masked. Gun in hand. Not here to knock.

The door splintered inward at the exact same second.

Ryder came through it like a storm. He got a black suit on, rain still dripping from his shoulders. Got no umbrella. No hesitation. His eyes were gold, but dimmer than last night. Tired. Dangerous.

He didn’t look at her first. He looked past her. To the window.

The masked man raised his gun.

Ryder moved.

It wasn’t human fast. One second he was in the doorway, the next he was between Ava and the bullet. His hand snapped out and caught the masked man’s wrist. Black blood ink sprayed across the wall.

The sigil on Ava’s arm flared. Hot.

Ryder turned to her, and for a second the bodyguard mask slipped. His jaw was tight. There was a cut on his temple that hadn’t been there last night. Black, not red.

Ryder: "Are you hurt?"

It sounded like an order.

Ava: "No. What are you?"

He didn’t answer. He pulled a thin black card from his jacket and pressed it into her palm. Cold. Heavy.

Ryder: "That’s a ward. It’ll hide the mark for 12 hours. Put it on."

Boots. More than one. Coming up the stairs. Heavy. Deliberate.

Ryder’s gold eyes flicked to the door, then to her wrist. The sigil was glowing through her sleeve.

Ryder: "They tracked the pulse. You lit up like a beacon."

Ava: "I didn’t ask for this!"

Ryder: "No one does." He grabbed her hand. His skin was freezing. "We have 40 seconds before they’re in this room. You can scream, you can fight me, or you can live."

The timer ticked. 364:22:58

Another card. This one red. He pressed it over the black one on her wrist. The glow dimmed. Vanished.

The knocking started on the stairwell door downstairs. Polite. Three taps.

A voice, smooth, amused:

Unknown: "House Blackthorn. Cute. You think one Wrath can protect a Vessel?"

Ryder’s grip tightened on her.

Ryder: "Run."

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He yanked her toward the back door, toward the alley, toward whatever hell came next.

Behind them, the front door blew off its hinges.

...TO BE CONTINUED......

CONTRACTED TO THE DEVIL'S BODYGUARD

EPISODE 3: HOUSE BLACKTHORN

364:22:40

The back door slammed behind them and the alley swallowed them whole.

Rain hit Ava’s face like needles. Ryder didn’t let go of her wrist. His hand was ice through her sleeve, and the red card he’d slapped on her sigil was the only thing keeping it from burning through her skin.

Behind them, the sound of wood splintering. Shouts. Gunfire, but muffled. Like it was happening underwater.

Ryder: "Don’t look back."

Ava: "What the hell are you?"

Ryder: "Later."

He dragged her through a service door, down a flight of concrete stairs, into a basement that smelled like mildew and old coffee. The second they were inside, he pressed his palm to the door. Black lines like ink, like the blood from last night crawled out from his fingers and sealed the cracks.

The noise outside cut off.

For 3 seconds, there was only their breathing.

Then Ryder let go. He stepped back and looked at her, really looked. Rain dripping from his hair, suit jacket torn at the shoulder. The cut on his temple was still leaking black.

Ryder: "Are you sure you’re not hurt?"

Ava wrapped her arms around herself. "No. But I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind! Who are those goddamn people?! Why was there a timer in my head?! And what is this!" she yanked up her sleeve. The sigil was invisible, but she could feel it. Hot. Itching. "on my arm?"

Ryder ran a hand through his wet hair. For the first time he looked tired. Not dangerous-tired. Exhausted-tired.

Ryder: "House Blackthorn. The Wrath. The Mark. Pick one."

He pulled out his phone. Not a normal phone. Black glass, no brand. He tapped it twice and a hologram flickered to life between them.

A contract. Old paper texture, but glowing letters.

VESSEL CONTRACT

Name: Ava Lane

Bound To: House Blackthorn, Wrath Division

Term: 365 Days

Clause 1: The Vessel shall bear the Mark of Wrath.

Clause 2: The Vessel shall not die before Term completion

Clause 3: The Assigned Wrath shall protect the Vessel at all cost

Status: ACTIVE

Ava stared at it. "I didn’t sign this."

Ryder: "You did last night. When you touched me."

Ava: "That’s not how contracts work!"

Ryder: "For us, it is." He swiped the hologram away. "The Mark chooses. The moment your blood touched mine, the 365 day countdown started. It means something out there wants you dead before the year is up."

Ava: "And you’re my bodyguard?"

Ryder: "I’m your Wrath." The word sounded like a title and a curse. "One of seven. House Blackthorn handles protection. The other Houses want the Vessel for themselves. Or they want you gone."

Ava laughed. It came out shaky. "This is insane. I’m an art student. I draw. I make coffee. I don’t... I’m not special."

Ryder’s gold eyes narrowed. "The Mark doesn’t choose special. It chooses necessary."

He walked to a metal door at the end of the basement and pressed his hand to it. It clicked open, revealing a black SUV idling in an underground garage. No driver.

Ryder: "We’re going to House Blackthorn. It’s warded. Safe. For now."

Ava didn’t move. "What happens in 365 days?"

Ryder paused. The first bit of hesitation she’d seen from him.

Ryder: "The contract ends. The Mark either ascends... or it kills you."

The timer in her vision flickered. 364:22:27

Ava’s stomach dropped. "Ascends to what?"

Ryder: "Power. Or ash. Depends on if you survive the year and what the other Houses do to stop it."

He held out his hand. Not to grab her. To offer.

Ryder: "I can’t make you come. But if you stay here, they’ll find you in 10 minutes. The ward on your wrist only lasts 12 hours. After that, you glow again."

Ava looked at his hand. Then at the door behind him. Then at the stairs where she could swear she heard footsteps again. Soft. Patient.

She took his hand. It was still freezing.

The SUV doors opened on their own.

Inside, the car was nothing like a normal car. No buttons. Black leather. A screen on the dash showing a map of the city with 3 red dots moving toward her last address.

Ryder slid into the driver seat. The car started without a key.

Ryder: "House rules. One: You don’t leave my side. Two: You don’t touch anyone else. Three: You don’t ask about the other six Wraths unless I tell you."

Ava: "And what are you? Really? You said Wrath."

Ryder’s hands tightened on the wheel. For a second his shadow in the rearview mirror flickered. Too many limbs again.

Ryder: "We’re what happens when a demon makes a deal and regrets it. We’re bound to protect. Forever. Or until the contract we’re assigned to ends."

He glanced at her. At the red card on her wrist.

Ryder: "You’ve got 364 days, Ava. Try not to die on me."

The garage door rolled up, and the SUV shot into the rain.

Her phone buzzed. Unknown number again.

`House Blackthorn: Welcome, Vessel. Your first lesson starts in 1 hour. Bring the Wrath.`

Ava looked at Ryder. He didn’t look surprised.

Ryder: "They’re already waiting."

Outside the window, across the rooftops, she saw them.

Figures. Watching. Some with masks. Some with wings that weren’t wings.

One of them raised a hand and waved.

The timer ticked down.

364:22:24

...TO BE CONTINUED......