Devil Of Dublin Novels & Stories

My heart gave a painful thump. Alpha Dante Davenport, the Devil of the MoonClaw Pack. The name alone had the power to silence an entire room. Stories about him were whispered or painted in the blood of the wolves who dared oppose him. A beast of a man with a smile carved from war and eyes sharp enough to cut through soul and steel. I swallowed. Vivian, ever the actress, twirled a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. “He's the type to drag singers to his bed before the chorus even starts. Ro-guish.” She said as if that was a compliment.

"We, who were once the queens of the dark, respected and feared in all the realms. He turned us into mere whispers in the trees." The circle pulsed with energy. Hate was their tether. And it ran deep. "But I bring you good news." Venice said, her voice softening with purpose. "The devil is weak now. The once dreaded prince of hell has been weakened because of a mere mortal woman." She laughed softly. "Who could've thought that this day would come, when we'd see the prince of hell, the devil's son, whose ruthlessness runs deeper than that of the devil, himself_who could've thought that one day, he'll be nothing but a tarnished soul."

At that time, she had not been born. "So it's just hearsay. History is written by the victors. Chu the Devil has disappeared for 20 years, but no one present dares to say his mistakes. Do you know the reason?" "Little girl, you don't understand. He is called Chu the Devil because he has killed too many people. He is notorious for his ferocity. He has slaughtered many cities and exterminated races. Wherever he goes, he will rob everything. Who dares to say his mistakes?"

He asked. I searched his gaze for courage. But somehow, I couldn’t find it. Luke was right—a month ago, I never knew this man at all, and now I’m defending him as if I’ve known him all my life. People call him The Devil—a vicious, and cold-hearted leader of a mafia family—a family responsible for two thirds of the crimes in our country; the U.R.T would be a safer place to live in and expand businesses without them. And suddenly that devil is a saint?

You can’t even take a single hit. “Now, now, Derrick. Don’t leave me so quickly. The fun has just started and you don’t want me to get bored now, do you?” I whistled and my eyes glowed red under the darkness. Derrick trembled as he witnessed that, “Who–who are you?” My grin widened, “I am the She devil. Nice to meet you.” *************************************

And it's ironic because that day was the first day he ever truly called my name with compassion. Blinking away the memory, I bend over the sink and splash water on my face, a devilish grin on. Maybe Papa was right when he said I was from the devil. Else, which child would tie her father to his favorite wooden chair and set him on fire? I felt nothing that day, even though I had a beating heart. I didn't pity him, even though I had a soul that was meant to be kind. Then again, maybe I was once an angel, a mockingbird killed by the wickedness of the ones I loved the most. Maybe it was Papa that turned me into the devil I became today.

To Be Continued… SEX WITH THE DEVIL

Swearing and calling us devils, just makes me smile. “We’re devils, so you should be aware, that devils never stop. Never quit, and don’t burn in the inferno we just walk through it, now speak.” My words taunt him and he nods, he looks like he might puke, or pass out, either isn’t good. “They are using Daisy.” “We know that already!” Calix’s anger grows and the knife swings removing another finger. Ryan screams again, trying to break free, it’s a useless attempt to escape, my restraints aren’t toys.

**🥀** 🥀 BRUNO'S POV 🥀 I tried to run, from the fact that the devil was my father, but it seemed there was nowhere to run to. Somehow, I find myself being dragged back to hell. There was a loud cry of people who believed and fell for the devil's deceit. Their crazy cry filled my ears… they are called — the sinners. Those who turn away from good and decided to do bad because that bad seemed right in their eyes. Since everyone is doing a certain thing, it seemed to be normal and that's why they ended up in hell.

“That I would risk you, risk myself, for a bullet or a blade. But murder is mercy. And mercy is the last thing this man deserves.” Benedict coughed, his lips twitching into a ghastly smirk. Even drugged, he clung to arrogance like a drowning man to driftwood. “You’re too late, Ferdinand. Did you think I wouldn’t expect you? Did you think you’d get to finish your little vendetta before the net dropped?” From somewhere outside, faint but growing clearer, came the wail of police sirens—dozens of them. The trap was closing. Ferdinand only chuckled softly. “You mistake me, Benedict. I never came here to kill you. Death is too neat. Too final. I came to give you the only ending you deserve.”