Devil In Italian 소설 & 이야기

“Who are you?” “Let’s get you settled before I tell you who I am,” he said. I shook my head. “No.” My voice was hoarse from crying too much as I spoke. “Tell me, now. Please.” He sighed. “Lazzaro Visconti.” My already sore eyes widened, and my body began to tremble as I recoiled. No. Please. No. Lazzaro Visconti. The devil himself. He was said to have killed his wife after she bore twins for him. He was the most ruthless of them all, and above that, the Visconti family had a decade-long beef with my family—the Martelli family.

He laughed again, but the laughter was not amusement. Only something shattered. "My father was Don Vittore Romano," he said to her. "The Devil of Palermo." Sera stiffened. She'd heard the name. Everyone had. The Devil of Palermo — a man whose brutality had been the stuff of legend even on the other side of the seas. "He used to say… 'Kindness is weakness. Mercy is suicide,'" Valerio said, his voice a low, hypnotic growl. "I learned young. Learned that love is a goddamn joke. That loyalty gets you a bullet in the head."

A thrill ran through me because to be fair, he did look like a boss to me. “Yes, the boss. Some people call him the devil, some go the foreign language route and call him diavolo which is Italian for devil. That should clue you in that he has Italian heritage hence his name, Luca Barone.” “Luca?” I giggled before I could stop myself. “Would you like to explain to me what's so funny, Miss Nova?” I swiftly clamped my lips in silence, and shook my head negatively. “I guessed so. Please refrain from interrupting me unnecessarily.”

(Hey, you) I twisted his hand and grabbed him by his collar. "If you ever try to touch my woman again then I won't hesitate to kill your family." I threatened. He spit on my face and laughed. "Who do you think you are to threaten me?" I wiped off the spit and choked his neck. "Sono qualcuno da cui Diavolo viene a chiedere soldi. Se mi fate incazzare vi farò morire di fame." I whispered in his ear and he gasped. (I am someone Diavolo comes to, to beg for money. If you piss me off, I will make you guys die of hunger)

I step out of the basement into the blasting hall of my club, where the world pretends I’m nothing more than a man with too much money and not enough soul. There's been a lot going on in my City. A lot I needed to focus on. My men knew not to go against me. They call me Il Diavolo — the Devil. But in this world, fear is power, and power is law. I don’t just run a business; I run an empire. Italy bows at my feet — from the cobbled streets of Rome to the blood-soaked alleys of Naples. Half of Spain answers to me, too. Every deal, every bullet, every drop of blood spilled—mine.

He did. But then, Damiano was a force of nature, a being who inspired awe or fear in virtually everyone. This was why his employees were calling him ‘Il Diavolo Italiano’ (The Italian Devil) behind his back and feared him terribly. “There are other solutions,” he added softly, so softly that Thea shuddered and took a nervous step away from him, putting her closer to the cliff’s edge. Her unsteady footstep sent loose rocks tumbling from the craggy point to the cove below. The falling rocks sounded like her heart shattering, and Thea’s throat squeezed closed.

Then she muttered, almost to herself, “What’s going on… Jesus.” Did she really not know it was him? A cruel idea popped into his head. His lips curled into a smirk as he said. “It’s not Jesus, It’s the devil.” his voice dropped some octaves as he purposely deepened it. Her voice trembled as she whispered, “What? No. Is this a dream?” pure horror was clear in her tone. Luciano didn’t answer right away. Then, in a tone that was almost gentle, he said, “It might be. But you better not open your eyes… unless you want to see the devil in your dreams.”

The Glambour forest, also known as the Devil's vale was situated in the western part of Patasia continent with mysterious supernatural secrets. lt was the earlier meeting place of different nations but now everyone was scared to cross that place due to it's dark secrets. History saying that hosts, sightings of the reaper, wolf packs gathering, vampire hideaways–all present in this forest at one time. Popular rumour about the forest was the paranormal activities of the non human creatures of there. Once approximately in early twentieth century, a pregnant lady and her husband were trapped in this mysterious forest because of the broke off of their black classic british sports car.

the man spoke placing his hand on the hip as he directed his words at Dylan Parker who stood there with his eyes wide open. "No wonder he's called Hades" Those comments and whispers made the man smirk in victory. Amara just kept staring at the sudden arrival of the man dressed in clothes which were smeared with blood all over. Even though she's too shocked to watch the scene in front of her, she didn't fail to note the name of the devil who's still smirking with a gun in his hand. HADES OF THE MAFIA WORLD, DAMIAN KNIGHT!

"Is that what you think about when you're with me? Have you been blaming me for what they did this entire time?" Adom sent him a withering look. "If I did, you'd have been dead long ago." Win reared back, shoving the Devil away. "You . . . how are you like this?" he asked, voice catching in disappointed sadness. The Devil crossed his arms over his chest. "Centuries of living in hell will do that to a person, Win. I didn't grow up in your sheltered Heaven or even on this plane of existence. Hell is where I was reared."