Antichrist Damien Novels & Stories

I hold on firmly to the cabinet so that I wouldn't lose my balance. "Ego Bastiana consecro et benedico istum circulum per nomine Dei Altissimi, in hec scripta, ut sit mihi et omnibus scutum et protectio Dei Fortissimi, Elohim Invictus, protestatis gerum contra hexes spiritus. In nomine Dei Patres, Dei Felii, et Dei Spiritus Sancti, Amen!"

Under the robes he could see that she was slightly built but she kept her head bowed, allowing him a single glimpse of a pale face under flowing black and white. Unmoved by her pious attitude, Damian leaned back in his chair and scrutinised his unwanted visitor. ‘If you’re expecting me to confess my sins then I should probably tell you that my next appointment is in an hour and that is nowhere near long enough for me to tell you all the bad things I’ve done in my life. On the other hand if you’re about to beg for cash then you should know that all my charitable donations are handled through my lawyers, via a separate part of my company. I just make the money. I leave other people to spend it

There were notes in Damian’s handwriting, margin scribbles that didn’t sound like a man covering crimes — they sounded like a man trying to protect something. — “Keep location secure.” — “Funds moved for protection protocol.” — “No trace to victims.” Victims. The word lodged in my throat. I rubbed my forehead, confused, torn. Maybe these were the humanitarian projects he mentioned — or maybe it was a clever disguise. I’d seen enough criminals play savior before. My phone buzzed on the desk, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. A message from Charlotte. > “Any progress?” My pulse spiked. She’d been unusually quiet lately — no check-ins, no updates. Now, suddenly, she was asking again.

“But not like this.” Not weak. Not broken. Not begging from a chair. His pride twisted with something deeper. Something fragile. “I won’t face her like this.” Silence then a hand tapped his shoulder lightly. Anton. “Boss.” Damian didn’t turn. “I know that look.” Damian let out a faint breath. “Do you.” Anton stepped around slightly, leaning against the side table with a small, knowing look. “You’re spiraling.” “I’m thinking.” “You’re insulting yourself.”

I had to quickly think of how to keep him close, that was how I told him I was a lesbian, so he won't have issues with being with me. I had to listen to him talk about his Erica every time I went visiting him, I pretended to give him a listening ear when in my deepest of hearts, I wanted him for myself. Who wouldn't love or want Damian Anderson? He is tall, he is handsome, caring, and to top the chart, he is a secret billionaire. Who needs love when there is so much money flying around. Damian is a big spender and he has unknowingly been helping me sponsor my secret addiction. With the global economic meltdown, the price of purchasing coke and other hard drugs from the street has tripled. My

The Queen turned to the King, her mouth opening to argue, but his raised hand silenced her. Damien’s shadow fell over me as he crouched slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “Don’t look, little flame,” he murmured, the words gentle despite the tension in his tone. “You don’t need to see this.” The trapdoors fell with a sickening thud. My father, my mother, my brother—gone. A scream tore from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. I collapsed to the ground, my legs giving out beneath me. I didn’t need to see it; the sound alone was enough to shatter what was left of my heart.

Riley grinned, showing his teeth. Mr Johnston's frown deepened as he dropped his arm back to his side. "What?" "Hmm, you believe in God, right?" Felix asked. His hand shot out with the speed of a cobra, grabbing at the rosary hanging from the gangster's neck. When he started to speak in Latin, the gun-toting hard man literally shuddered. "Damien Cross," Riley prompted. "You know? The politician? The lefties call him the Anti-Christ because of his name and his hard-right policies."

he announced, loudly. My heart started shaking at their testimonies about Damien, I knew this was a dead end. The fourth guy was dark skinned. He took off his hoodie and I could see his face properly. “Madam, I don't know who Damien is, but my spirit is against this mission" he said. “Anytime Femi’s spirit is against something, we always get in trouble," the Russian guy added. The fifth guy looked like the tech guy.

Holy- My chaotic thoughts scattered as Damien stepped inside, wearing nothing but low-slung trousers that hung dangerously at his V-line, teasing a trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband. His torso, carved to sinful perfection, glistened faintly in the dim light, and his disheveled hair made him look every bit like the devil incarnate. I fought to keep my gaze on his face-a face just as destructive as the rest of him-and not let it wander further. Fucking Lucifer's descendant.

"I just want us to be friends, Damian. I’m tired of all this unnecessary disgust, loathing, and hatred. I want us to team up and take down Kunle. He has robbed me of the swimming title too many times, and I’d rather someone else take it from him this time. Please, let’s work together." Chinwe narrowed her eyes. "Hmm… I don’t know. I just don’t trust this apology. It feels too fake. For God’s sake, we just saw you hanging out with this same Kunle you claim to dislike." "Exactly!" Charity agreed. "It’s obvious he’s playing both sides. Damian, please don’t fall for this his fake sermon." I won’t lie, I also had doubts about his sincerity. But for some reason, I decided to give him the benefit o