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THE SPARK
Last Updated:
2025-09-10 21:07:43
KIKIBOLDHey readers, I'm seeing the views climbing and I appreciate. Keep on reading , I promise the story is worth it. Updating two chapters daily. Stay tuned
Latest chapter
THE DEVIL'S CLAIM FRACTURES
LILIANA'S POV The photos won't leave my mind. Even after he put them away calmly, like he hadn't just ripped the ground from under me I still see them burned behind my eyelids. My father smiling with his arm around my mother. My brother stumbling drunk, but alive. Alive. For now. That's the part that guts me. Dante controls their lives now with a flick of his wrist, a snap of his fingers. They don't even know it. They don't know that with one wrong word from me, they'll bleed because of him. The weight of that truth sits on my chest like a stone. I sit on the bed, clutching the sheets, staring at the door. He left without another word. No commands, no taunts. Just the echo of his promise in my ear: The only thing worse than being mine is being no one's. I hate him. God, I hate him so much my stomach twists. But hate feels useless when fear coils tighter around my ribs. And underneath both of those things is something even worse. Heat. That electric pulse in my body whenever
THE DEVIL'S CLAIM BREAKING HER IN
Dante's POVThe slap still lingers on my cheek.Not the pain because she doesn't have the strength to hurt me. It's the audacity that stuck, the fire in her eyes when she swung at me.She doesn't understand. That fire is exactly why I won't let her go.I've broken dozens of women before. Bent them, molded them, until all that was left was obedience. They cried, they begged, they submitted. Easy. Predictable.But Liliana? She hits me, spits at me, swears she'll cut my throat. She shakes with fear and still lifts her chin like a fucking queen.That's the kind of woman you don't kill.That's the kind of woman you chain.And I will chain her.Morning. The house is quiet. My men are already out handling shipments, greasing palms, keeping our empire fed. I move through the halls like a shadow, heading for her room.She'll still be in bed, curled up with that mix of defiance and terror keeping her awake all night. I want to see it on her face.When I open the door, she jerks up, clutching th
THE DEVIL'S CLAIM THE SPARK
Dante’s POVThere’s a line between fear and fire.Most people think it’s thin. That a single step one way or the other is all it takes to cross. They’re wrong. It’s not a line, it’s a fucking battlefield. And Liliana Crawford? She’s right in the middle of it, claws out, teeth bared, eyes daring me to try and take her down.And Christ, I’ve never wanted anything more.She thinks she won something by throwing her food across my walls. Thinks her little rebellion was brave. She has no fucking idea how close I came to bending her over the table and showing her exactly what defiance earns in my world.But I didn’t.Not yet.Because she doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t realize I’m not breaking her, I’m shaping her.Marco told me once that taming a wild thing is easier if you starve it, weaken it, beat it until it can’t stand anymore. Maybe that works for horses or dogs. But Liliana isn’t an animal. She’s fire trapped in porcelain, fragile but burning. And if I crush her too f
THE DEVIL'S CLAIM THE LESSON
Liliana’s POVThe first thing I feel when I wake up is rage.Not fear, not despair but rage.It scorches through my chest like acid when my eyes flick open to the silk canopy above Dante’s bed. The dress from yesterday still clings to me, ripped lace and smeared makeup crusted into the fabric. I reek of smoke, sweat, and humiliation. My stomach twists, both from hunger and disgust.For a second, I almost think it’s all been a nightmare. The raid, the gunshots, Ethan bleeding, being dragged into Dante’s car like I was a sack of grain instead of a bride. But then I move, and the ache in my wrists from his grip, the raw skin on my arms from fighting, the way my throat feels bruised from screaming and yeah, none of it was a dream.I’m still here. Still his prisoner.The bastard’s words echo in my head. Tomorrow, I’ll start your lessons.I roll onto my side, pressing my knees to my chest. A scream builds in my throat but dies before it can leave. Screaming won’t do shit. It’ll only make hi
THE DEVIL'S CLAIM CHAINS OF OBSESSION
Dante’s POVBlood dries too fast on cheap suits.That’s the thought running through my head as I watch the man kneeling on the warehouse floor, his face pale, eyes wide with terror. His hands are zip-tied behind his back, shoulders jerking as though he can shake off the fear dripping down his spine.The concrete under him is stained with darker spots, old blood, piss, oil. A graveyard of stains. He’ll be part of it soon.Marco flicks open his knife beside me, impatient. Luca leans against a pillar, sipping espresso like this is a quiet morning at some Roman café instead of another execution.I drag on my cigar, exhaling slow, letting the smoke curl between us like a sermon. “Do you know what pisses me off more than betrayal?”The man swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Please, Mr. De Luca, I....I didn’t mean to....”I slam my fist against the metal table. The sound rings out like a gunshot. “Answer the fucking question.”He flinches. His lips tremble. “I....I don’t know.”“Cowards,”
THE DEVIL'S CLAIM GILDED CAGE
LILIANA'S POV I lie there long after the door slams, the echo still vibrating in my bones.The sheets smell like him. Expensive cologne and smoke, faint leather and gunpowder, as if even the fabric knows it belongs to a man like Dante Moretti. I hate it. I hate that the scent clings to me now, burrowed into my skin like a bruise I can’t scrub away.My wrists ache where he pinned them, red marks blooming like flowers on pale flesh. His weight still lingers on me, phantom heat, the press of his knee between my thighs. I hate that my body remembered it even when I’m trying to forget.“Fuck,” I whisper to the ceiling, voice trembling.I want to scream. I want to rip the silk sheets apart, claw at the walls until my fingers bleed. But I can’t, not here, not in his cage where he’d only laugh at me. He’d like it too much.He already does.I curl onto my side, pulling my knees to my chest. My dress is torn, ruined, the last remnant of a wedding that never was. A wedding that was nothing but
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