Diavolo Requiem Novels & Stories

He exhales a rough, uneven sound and for a fleeting second, it almost feels like relief. Does he actually feel guilty? I shove the thought away before it can take root. Diavolo doesn’t have a shred of sympathy in him. The man’s incapable of anything resembling remorse. The only emotions he knows are chaos and control. “Indeed,” he murmurs. “And you shine so brightly, it fucking hurts.” I blink, startled. Did he just…compliment me? “Eat.” He clears his throat, turning back to his plate as if the words never left his mouth.

“You know I could make all this go away. I can make the charges disappear, but I’m going to need something from you first.” I knew what it was before he even said it. “Sign the papers,” he leaned down to tuck a strand of hair from my face while maintaining eye contact with me. “And then disappear from my life, forever.” He said it with so much certainty that I felt like he had driven a stake clean through my heart, impaling me with his words. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all before it finally settled in my head. Curtis Blackwood was the fucking devil.

My skin burned instead of stinging, and more blood spilled from my mouth but I fought and fought, until the lights of the candles came on…. Another thunder bolted angrily, followed by a violent whoosh of air that threatened to put off the candle lights. I wiped my mouth with the back of my palm, grabbed the dead animal and began to tie it with a white rope. As soon as I was done, I threw it into the bowl of animal blood and carried it up, resuming my chant with a bell on my other hand. “Adaou dingo zatuu!” “Gruzdenn cratin fantuaaa”

she whispered, staring into space, “you killed her.” “Yes, Ava, I did and now do you believe me? Do you believe that I am the most dangerous man on earth and the most heartless? Do you understand why you should have put that damn bullet in me that night, even if not for you but for her? Do you understand why you should not dream of anything good with me?” he approached her where she was on the floor and squatted in front of her, “do you know the meaning of El Diablo? Do you understand why I am call that now? I am heartless, Ava, I have no soul, people are not right when they say I sold my soul to the devil because I am the devil himself. My soul has already been consumed in hell and if you s

From up here, the city glowed like a wound—fires smoldering, broken glass glittering, and the cries of the desperate echoing into the dark. Behind her, Dante’s footsteps were measured, deliberate, like a predator stalking the silence. He had grown quieter in recent weeks, his rage contained but seething like a furnace beneath the surface. The attack two nights ago had proven what they both already knew: there was someone else moving pieces against them. Someone smarter, colder, and more patient than Lorenzo had ever been. Amara didn’t turn when Dante finally spoke. “They call him Il Diavolo,” Dante said, his voice like gravel. “The Devil. An old ghost. I thought he was buried years ago, but

Aria blinked, her hands faltered, losing its grip on Doris. “He’s the heir to the most feared bloodline in Italy. His father was a legend, some said he was only a man, other’s called him insane. But his son, Lucian, they called II Diavolo.” “The devil.” Aria’s throat dried up, air scarce in her lungs. Her heart pounded in her chest, while her fingers trembled slightly but she gripped the sheets to steady herself. “How do I please him? What does he want with me?” her voice trembled.

He asked, his voice thick with command and authority. The mafia world was his territory. The darkest part of him belonged in the mafia. Alexandre Leon Loides was a very dangerous man and was greatly feared by other mafia lords. His brutality and skillfulness earned him the title ' Diavolo' The pain and suffering he'd gone through had hardened him and molded him into the man he'd become. But with Ellise now in his life, he knew that he had to strive to be a better man for her even though he knew it wouldn't be easy.

I looked away from my mother, and she raised an eyebrow at me, clearly annoyed by me. “Enough, Myla, yelling at them is not going to do you any good. They knew what they were doing, a whole bottle of champagne cannot be emptied by accident.” Luna Netania, Diablo’s mother, said, looking at mom. “The two of you are going to need to freshen up. And I am going to send you painkillers as well as glasses of water. You are going to need them to be dealing with what is to come later.” “What is going to happen later?” Diablo asked his mother, and she shook her head at him.