Chapter 5

The Devil you can't see.

"What is yours..?" I muttered, my voice low and taut as I glared at Michael. The barely contained fury in my eyes seemed to challenge him, daring him to respond. His calm demeanor betrayed nothing, yet every inch of his presence exuded an unsettling authority.

"And what do you mean by you can do more harm?" I added, my words sharp yet trembling with apprehension.

Without a word, Michael rose from his seat. Each movement was deliberate, a slow, calculated ascent that filled the room with a palpable tension. His footsteps echoed softly on the marble floor as he walked towards me, his pace measured like a predator stalking its prey. Every step made my heart pound a little faster.

I swallowed hard, feeling the lump in my throat as I instinctively took a step back.

"What did you say...?" Michael muttered, his voice barely above a whisper yet laced with an undercurrent of menace. For a brief, disconcerting second, I was sure I saw his eyes change color, a flash of something otherworldly. But perhaps it was only my imagination, a trick of the light in this charged atmosphere. Or was it something far more sinister?

"Em... er..." My lips parted, desperate to form words, yet my voice betrayed me with silence. The hesitation in my tone was a silent admission of my mounting fear.

As I continued to retreat, my steps faltering, Michael’s approach remained relentless. My leg collided abruptly with a chair, a clumsy misstep that sent me sprawling into it. The jolt of impact stole my breath for an instant, but at least I hadn’t fallen to the floor. I clutched the chair’s arms, my body trembling as I tried to gather my scattered senses.

Michael halted just a few feet away, looming over me like a dark sentinel. His eyes…cold, bore into me as he spoke, his voice now a low, chilling directive.

"Never... act like you've got guts. Never…ever…question my authority."

The words slithered through the air, each syllable dripping with a venomous mixture of disdain and absolute command. I sat there, shivering, every nerve ending screaming in protest. The thought of losing control, of breaking down completely, threatened to overwhelm me. Despite the terror clawing at my insides, I forced myself to maintain a semblance of composure, even if I was sure I might have wet myself out of fear.

Then came his laugh. It was a dark, resonant sound that filled the room, echoing off the walls like a twisted lullaby. "Hahaha..." Michael chuckled, his lips parting to reveal rows of crystal-white teeth. They were unnaturally perfect, each one curved in a way that made them seem sharper than any normal human’s.

"Diana... Diana..." he intoned softly, my name slipping from his lips like a forbidden incantation. Even as he began to walk away, his tone carried a strange mixture of tenderness and threat, leaving me unsure whether to feel a pang of longing or a surge of terror.

Moments later, he paused, his back still turned to me. I could feel his eyes weighing me as he spoke again, his voice now edged with impatience and expectation. "Give me a goddamn name. Who were you with last night?" he demanded, each word slicing through the charged silence.

I stuttered, the words caught in my throat. "I... I..." I managed to say, then took a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't really know his name..." My voice faltered, the confession feeling like a betrayal even as I uttered it.

"You lie to me, child... you lie to me," Michael hissed, his tone turning icy as he pivoted to face me directly. His jaw clenched, the hard lines of his face accentuating the severity of his disapproval. The term "child" rang in my ears, a word so loaded, so out of place coming from him. Even my own father, with all his years and authority, had never really addressed me so dismissively. It was as though Michael existed in a realm far removed from time, his language ancient and laden with unspoken power.

"You... dare lie to me, huh?!" he barked suddenly, the force of his anger reverberating through my very bones. The shock of his outburst sent shivers racing down my spine, igniting a torrent of conflicting emotions. I wanted to protest, to defend myself, but my voice remained trapped in a frozen cage of fear.

Before I could muster another word, Michael’s tone softened, if such a thing were possible in that moment. "Shhhh..." he commanded gently, silencing me with a raised finger. His eyes locked onto mine, a mixture of curiosity and menace swirling within them. "Tell me what he looks like then; my sharp imagination can paint his picture," he said, a menacing smile twisting his features into something both alluring and terrifying.

"It... it was... was dark," I stammered, the words tumbling out as my voice trembled. Every syllable was laced with the raw, exposed fear I felt inside. "I... I didn’t get to see his face or his physique clearly... but I think I remember a name now," I added hurriedly, the confession escaping my lips in a desperate rush. I paused, gasping for air as I tried to steady my racing heartbeat.

A creepy smile played upon Michael’s lips once more, a smile that seemed to both praise and mock me. "Good girl... now tell me, the name..." he urged softly as if coaxing a secret from the depths of my trembling mind.

"Em... something cam... cam... ee..." I mumbled, each pause punctuating my rising terror.

"Is it Cameroon?" he asked, his eyebrows rising in anticipation. The way he looked at me as if he were waiting for an answer that would confirm some dark prophecy, sent another chill down my spine.

"Ye... yes, Cameroon," I finally muttered, the words barely audible as they slipped into the charged space between us.

For a long, agonizing moment, silence reigned as Michael absorbed my answer. Then he exhaled slowly, a low growl rumbling from deep within him. His chest rose and fell in measured rhythm, and his broad shoulders tensed so visibly that every muscle seemed to scream with contained fury. His hands folded tightly, veins visibly pulsing beneath his skin as if they were straining to break free.

"Did I... do you…." I tried to form another sentence, but the words were lost, swallowed by the oppressive atmosphere that pressed in on me.

"Shut up!" Michael roared, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "Did I ask you to speak? Among billions of people in this world, you choose to bump into no one else but Cameroon, huh!" His outburst was raw, imbued with a venomous combination of disbelief and anger that sent my already fragile defenses shattering into pieces.

In that instant, it felt as though the entire room had contracted, the walls closing in as the reality of the situation bore down on me. A million disjointed thoughts cascaded through my mind, each one a mix of regret, fear, and a dawning understanding that I was ensnared in something far beyond my control. I could almost hear my inner voice whispering, “Oh god, what mess have I gotten myself into?” The thought was barely audible, a quiet mumble meant only for my ears.

Before I could drown in the torrent of my panic, Michael’s voice cut through again, filled with a cold, inexorable finality. "You're in a much bigger mess than you think." His words resonated in the still air, each syllable reverberating with the certainty of impending doom.

How had he heard my whispered confession? I had spoken so softly, so furtively, yet his ears seemed to catch even the faintest murmur of my despair. I stared at him, heart pounding in my ears as I tried to grasp the magnitude of his power.

"Listen to me, and listen very clearly..." Michael said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur as he stepped closer.

"You have a task. You will go and deliver a message that I give you. You will take it to your so-called Cameroon. Is that clear?" His gaze was unyielding, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"No..." The word burst from my lips before I could rein it in. It was a single, defiant sound, a spark of rebellion born of exhaustion and terror. Yet even that word seemed to seal my fate.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he turned away, his gaze now fixed on the large, see-through glass that framed the garden beyond. His attention to my dissent was minimal as if my protest were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his grand design.

"What did you say?" he muttered, not looking back at me. His voice was cold and detached as if he were questioning a stranger rather than the trembling person before him.

"I don't know anything about Cameroon!" I blurted out, my voice cracking under the pressure of my own panic. "We only met that night, and that was it! How, then, am I supposed to take a message to him?" I pleaded, the desperation in my tone unmistakable as I tried to defend myself against the inexorable tide of his will.

"Well..." Michael began slowly, his tone almost reflective for a moment, a fleeting pause that made me wonder if there was even a sliver of doubt in his eyes.

Then, in one explosive instant, he roared, "I DON'T CARE!!" His voice thundered through the room, a deafening proclamation that shattered the last remnants of my hope.

And just then…

A piercing ring cut through the cacophony of emotions, my phone rang jolting me back to reality