Novel & Cerita Devil Venerable Also Wants To Know

The old man said, who was having increasing difficulty breathing. “Va bene, Papà. Lo capisco, quindi per favore prendine un po’ (Okay, Papà. I understand it so please have some—)” “Seth!” The old man said the young man's name again. “Devi trovarla ad ogni costo. Devi pagarla— (You must find her at any cost. You have to pay her—)” Don Vincenzo couldn't finish what he was about to say when he coughed again, and he vomited a lot of blood.

“The saint and devil huh? “Whether you are the saint or devil, you will still be defeated by me!” Dragon Head laughed out loud. He was disrespecting his opponents. Gemini shook his head. “Why am I feeling a weird sense of familiarity between him and me?” Virgo said, “So, are you being reluctant now?” “No!” Gemini sneered. “On the other hand, I want him to die more than ever.” “You crazy son of a bitch...” Both of them attacked Dragon Head at the same time. Virgo, the saint, with a rather

Mathias exclaimed, a hint of excitement and curiosity lacing his words. Mrs Fernanda's laughed echoed through the room as she started revealing the dark secrets. "You know nothing at all," she sneered mockingly, her tone filled with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "A child can't be different from her father, DIABLO (devil), VAMPIRA (vampire), HÍBRIDA (hybrid), ABOMINACIÓN (abomination). And she must die, or else she will bring death to us all, just like her father has been doing for generations."

the weird looking man cocked his head, with a smirk on his face, "So the rumors are true... The great Celestine is suffering from severe memory loss... No wonder. The girl I know would have escaped those chains already," "And who the fuck are you suppose to be?" I snarled, "Oh my, where are my manners? I keep forgetting you can't even remember who you are, let alone me. My apologies, I am Lord Valdomore."

"I'll be sure to let him know… Drew." The blonde quickly jumped to his feet. "Coming, Clay! Excuse us." With confused expressions adoring both the Ford descendants' features, Drew and Clay made their way to the door. Halfway there, however, Clay’s legs came to a halt. "Clay?" Lavender flowers slumped and on the verge of decay, bent forward to accept Clay's caress. The vase it was captured in, covered with dust—neglect settling on the otherwise beautiful object. "Ah, did you forget something, future Mr. Ares?"

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

“You won’t come back.” “I don’t need to,” I replied. “I just need to knock.” Silence detonated. Matteo laughed, low and dark. “I like her more every minute.” “We don’t even know where it’s anchored,” Lira said sharply. “The Devourer exists across planes.” “I know,” I said. “But its worship doesn’t.” I turned to Kyren. “There are convergences. Old sanctums. Places where belief thins the veil.”

a deep voice commands. I turn. He walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders under a tailored black suit, dark eyes that slice through the chaos. His presence is heavier than the gunfire. Dante Morreti. I know that name. Whispers. Mafia. Blood. Power. The devil of New York. His gaze pins me in place. My chest tightens, breath shallow. “She’s the bride?” he asks, almost amused. “Yes, Boss,” one of his men answers. “Pretty little thing,” Dante murmurs, eyes raking me head to toe. “Shame she belongs to a coward.”

I knew their names the way everyone knew them: whispered in fear, moaned in fantasies, printed in tabloids that called them immortal gods and ruthless monsters in the same breath. Vincenzo Drakvolk. The tallest. The leader. Amber eyes that burned slow like embers under ash, voice that could command armies or unravel panties with a single syllable. Lorenzo Drakvolk. Gold-eyed devil with a smirk that promised sin, hands that looked made for breaking things—or making them beg. Valentino Drakvolk. The quiet one. White hair like fresh snow on a grave, silver eyes that never blinked when they decided something belonged to them. The one they called the devil not because he was cruel, but because he