Devils Line Plot Novels & Stories

”Nice flowers.” Wendy commended as soon as Rebecca entered the room. Rebecca on the other hand didn’t pay attention to what was said. She was lost in a world of her own thought. She didn’t see the face of the biker, but from the sound of his voice, she could tell who it was. It was a voice she would recognize anytime, any day. The voice of the devil who haunts her in her dream. A pat on the shoulder brought her back to reality. She jerked and the flower slipped from her hands, but Wendy caught it before it could fall to the floor.

In a few seconds, he was towering over me, pressing a finger on my lips to threaten me, " Sshh! Watch before you speak, Princepessa. I am not your prince charming anymore. I am the devil who is here to suck your soul. If I made you just my fuck body, what will the world call my child? An illegitimate one? In no way, I was going to allow it. Get on the bed and wait for me. I want your back to remember because I really don't wish to kiss your poisonous lips ever which fed me lies for years."

Her reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened in terror as she stared at the image. Slowly, shakily, she lifted her hand and pointed at it. “T-th-is… h-he… i-is a d-dev-il,” she stuttered. “B-b-ad… m-man.” A chill crawled down my spine. “Yes,” I nodded firmly. “He is a bad man. Have you ever seen him with your daughter?” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked around the room, panic flooding her face.

Subject line: “You Asked for the Devil” The file was massive. Raphael stood behind me, watching as I clicked open layer after layer. Lucian Damian Devlin. Born in Austria. Raised in Switzerland. Fluent in five languages. Educated in private institutions under aliases. Trained in weapons, finance, manipulation. Current occupation: CEO of Devlin Global Holdings. Unofficially: Heir and now head of the Devlin Cartel — a billion-dollar empire of drugs, trafficking, and global political influence. I scrolled, the blood draining from my face.

Resolve replaced hesitation. Lucian straightened, both hands flat against the table, his shadow stretching long across the maps and names. “Prepare the men. Arm them. Train them like the devil himself is coming for them. In three nights, we hit Darius. No survivors. No mercy.” One by one, the lieutenants rose. Chairs scraped against the floor, boots pounded toward the door. They left with determination carved into their faces, carrying orders that would change the underworld forever. When the last door closed, silence fell heavy. Only the rain remained, striking against the glass like a warning drum.

The dull noises of children playing, constantly breaking his attention away from the shiny new book nestled between his fingers like a delicate treasure. It itched at his nerves, causing his lips to pull down as he tried harder to read the words splayed out in front of him. Every time he tried another loud noise would jar him out of the world of fantasy. It annoyed him, and as he finally gave up on the thirteenth chapter—having spent all night reading the first few—the pristine cover closed with a thud. Absently, Damon ran his finger over the edge. “I’m pretty sure I hate you.” His finger twitches.

There was no telling who he has told by now, she thought, wait, eleven years ago we were in… “Devil’s Lake. That’s why you were in such a hurry to leave that day, wasn’t it?” “Yes. When I went out into the woods, I ran into him. I saved him from a mountain lion.” As she spoke, she hung her head. “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t let him die.”

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

She felt Olivia before she heard her. Olivia made her way downstairs. She'd heard the car drive up over an hour ago and wondered what kept Cassandra away. Then she'd thought about it, and she'd known. Olivia's judgment. Olivia's sense of right and wrong. Olivia's naive thinking was that the world was simply black or white. She couldn't change the fact that she hated what Cassandra did, or what she stood for. And she couldn't start thinking that even though everyone around her thought they were the good guys, they weren't. But she could offer Cassandra the comfort of a friend. She'd grown up in this world, she'd seen the worst kind of people in it. Emma, Vance, Pedro, and Cassandra weren't li

CHAPTER 2: The Leaked Videos. (Vincenzo’s POV) Last night, I was upstairs in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of whiskey that had long since lost its burn. The lights were dim, the air saturated with perfume, lies, and secrets. The waitress had brought me my drink, but my mood was already poisoned. All I could think about was that girl... the one who dared to yell at me outside like I was some street rat. "Are you blind?" she’d said.