Romans & histoires Devil's Luck Pirates

"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." "I heard he even made a deal with the sea beast." One of the witches spat out. "Yes. He may have thought that it would end with the destruction of Behemoth...but he is wrong. This is the moment we've waited for. Retribution must be ours." The witches jeered with excitement. "We should kill the girl, and make him watch." A witch suggested.

Over thirty of them, spread across the central desk like playing cards — each one open to a photograph, each photograph marked with a bold red X. They looked like people who had simply been in the wrong place, in the orbit of the wrong man, at the wrong time. Taken care of. That was the cartel's language for it. I had always known Lucian was the devil. I had felt it the night he bought me — the cold weight of his gaze, the way power moved around him like weather. But this — this — was something else entirely. This was the gruesomeness behind the legend. The evidence of what it truly meant to be Richard Devlin's son, to be handed to a cartel at some tender, ruinous age and told: prove yoursel

I just wanted to fill you in on the situation. Olivia smiled. "It's okay. We won't be so unlucky. If others didn't come across the pirates, surely we wouldn't either." "Don't worry. We won't be so unlucky. This is the Devil's Chasm. Have you heard of the Blissful Isles?" "Olivia shook her head. "I haven't. Tell me about it." "Okay. The Blissful Isles are located …" Before they realized it, the sun had already set. Olivia realized that Logan might not be the most knowledgeable person, but he must be one of the most insightful.

His voice drops into a dark, lethal tone that carries to every single corner of the silent chapel. "You know what they say, Pierre… the devil always comes to collect..."

Careful, measured, not over-performing, but genuinely there. "Alright," he said. "What does the assessed information tell you?" "Someone planned this. It's not opportunistic — a burner phone purchased in advance means premeditation." She sat at the island. "The question is who benefits from destabilizing us." "Several people," he said. He was thinking, she could tell — the internal processing, the information sorting. "The board has two members who would prefer the trust to revert. There's a competing development group that's been trying to acquire one of my waterfront sites. And there's — " He paused. "Callum."

They were unaware of my identity, their memories and mine diverging as swiftly as a river branching into separate tributaries. Emilio Vargas, the leader of the Black Shadow, exuded authority as he entered first. His piercing eyes were like twin obsidian orbs that took in every detail of the room. I knew him as the puppeteer, the mastermind behind the cartel's operations. I had fantasized about taking him down, but nothing seemed to stick on them; they had paid puppets in every step.

I could scent their drugs, alcohol made from puffer fishes and stone fishes as well as their cigarettes that were coated with the skin of a specially tanned blue-ringed octopus hide. I faced the man I wanted to meet. He was a man who had been living under the sea for many years. The merpeople around called him the sea devil. On ordinary land he was just a man but in sea water, he could control anyone he wanted with the power of his deadly tongue. Anyone but the devil and royal blood. I wondered why he hadn't taken over Seareign yet. "We meet again, Lot." "That's the devil to you." There was a black mermaid behind him. She was smoking on a blue ring cigarette as black liquid escaped her mouth

“The loudest pirate was Morton ‘Devil’s Charm’ Tyde he lived dangerously and was always ready to die. He loved causing trouble and starting fights; he'd spook the crew when they’d turn off the lights. He laughed much too loud and always made jokes. He was never quiet whenever he spoke. He welcomed death daily and just didn’t care, until his head was chopped off and flew through the air. Now he hold head in his hands and makes himself laugh, while his body tap dances on his head’s behalf.” “Who comes up with these nicknames?” Cedric questioned. “What the hell is ‘Devil’s Charm’?” “I don’t know, I think they’re kind of cool.” Penn admitted. “I want a nickname.” “How about Broody?” I teased. “O