Devil In Italian 소설 & 이야기

He cursed under his breath. At first prince Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the red ones peering at him, it was as if he has been glued to those flaming eyes, but that spell lost it effect on him the moment he heard another growl from the massive creature laying on the floor with an arrow stuck in his heart. ‘ isn't this what they call caught between the devil and the deep blue sea?, but then no matter how beautiful the sea might appear, the devil you know is far better.’ “Ahhhhhhhh"

I looked up at him from where I was sitted, a smile on my face “Are you going to kill me?” Elan asked and I burst into laughter “I am not going to kill you” I said slowly, I don't go around killing people for no good reason “But.. you are the devil, the devil from the blood moon pack” “Some call me the devil, some call me the ripper, some call me a mad man but I personally, I prefer the Del Monté devil”

Mauro squints with his right eye, and when his eyes focus on Zefiro, he grins, teeth bloodied. His body shakes with violent fits of laughter as he fights against the binds around his hands and legs. “You always were a blood thirsty bastard, hiding behind that pretty face of yours.” Mauro looks around, as if searching for an escape. “But you never fooled me.” He refocuses on Zefiro and says something roughly in Italian that sounds like gibberish, but I stow the words away for later. “C'è un demonio dentro di te.”

) She snaps. “Sasha, ch—” “Che diavolo c’è che non va con te?” (What the hell is wrong with you?) She interrupts, fuming with anger. “Chi diavolo sei? Passi le tue giornate a bere e le tue notti a bere ancora di più, non riesci a fiutare un cazzo di topo al tuo tavolo e inizi una guerra per divertimento?” (Who the hell are you? You spend your days drinking and your nights drinking even more, you can’t sniff out a fucking rat at your table and you start a war for fun?) She scoffs. “Che diavolo ti sta succedendo?” (What the hell is going on with you?)

She ran away and left her alone in the hands of this demon. She looked at Eric who had a devilish smile on his face, then stared down at her stomach. ‘Maybe you were meant to be a mafia after all.’

She approached the TV and fixed her gaze on Riccardo. "Who are you?" she asked softly. "I'm De Lucca, the boss of the underworld." She turned to me, her eyes wide. "Mommy, he's the devil." I shot a glare at Riccardo. How could he say that to a kid who's almost six? The jerk just shrugged, saying, "What? I'm the boss of the underworld, or did you forget?" "Oh no, Mommy! The devil is coming for us. I don’t want to go to the underworld."

He shifted, leaned back, legs spread wider, one boot tapping the floor with lazy rhythm. “I’m sure you’ve heard of The Devil,” he said. His voice was smooth. Deep. Too calm. It wasn’t the kind of voice that threatened you. It was the kind that made promises you knew would come true, even if they were the kind to make your skin crawl. I blinked. “Only the one from the Bible.” He chuckled. Low. Warm. Wrong. “Are you religious, Luca?” He said my name. It sounded like silk being pulled tight against my throat.

“There's no information on his line of business. But you might wanna listen to this.” I press the phone closer to my ear. “What? Is he a gangster?” “Not exactly. He's known as the Devil of Deals in some really elite circles. Basically, he grants wishes in the form of deals. He's very expensive from what I was able to find. But very sought after. No one knows what he looks like, no one's ever met him before.” Devil of Deals? Come to think of it, I think I've heard something like that before. I can't place where exactly.

Of course they’d come crawling out now. “Who leads them?” I asked. “That’s the hard part,” Luca muttered. “No name. Just someone they call Il Burattinaio. The Puppeteer.” I exhaled through my nose. “Cute.” “Dangerous,” he corrected. “Men like that don’t appear unless a shift is coming.” A shift. Yeah. I felt it too. “Any movement from Marco?” I asked. “Not yet,” Luca said, scratching his jaw. “But men loyal to him have been asking questions. Quiet ones.”

I⁠ couldn't spea‍k, did he sen‍se anyt‍hing? Di⁠d he⁠ know? “I had col‍d feet,” I said softl‌y. He smiled. The pr⁠iest spoke, words‍ abou‌t love, words‌ ab⁠out l‍oyalty‌, wo‍rds abo‌ut forever. Forever s⁠ounded like a‍ locked‍ room. My mind raced. Wh⁠at if he found out? Fear pressed against pride, pride fought back.