Romans & histoires Diavolo Requiem

Velvet drapes the color of spilled wine lined the walls, chandeliers of obsidian crystal hung like predatory eyes overhead, and the air itself seemed heavy with perfume, smoke, and danger. Every corner whispered with secrets. Eyes tracked him as he passed—recognition, curiosity, some even thinly veiled hatred. But he walked like he belonged. Because tonight… he did. The sound of a single violin played from the center of the stage, delicate and haunting. At the far end of the hall, beneath a black-and-gold portrait of the late Lady Aihara, stood the auctioneer in ceremonial robes, waiting for the tribute to begin. Dorian moved past a table where a familiar face turned toward him—someone from

Still, I knew I had to break free from my boring routine and go on a date with a handsome Italian doctor. I pushed myself out of bed and walked to my wardrobe. My fingers brushed through my dresses before I finally picked a sexy red sweetheart dress. I loved the way it sparkled slightly and hugged my curves. I slipped it on and paired it with a set of black heels. I didn’t wear anything underneath the gown. Tonight, I wanted to taste the cum of an Italian doctor. My phone buzzed suddenly. I reached for it and unlocked the screen. A message from Marcello popped up.

he whispered, voice low, dark, teasing. Her fingers slid over his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle as she closed the last inch between them, lips brushing his. “If I can’t kill the devil…” she murmured, voice trembling with fire, “then when I take my revenge… you’ll wish for anything but death.” Her eyes locked on his in a promise. “I will make you taste tears of blood, dear devil.”

I saw Lisa move into the kitchen from the corner of my eye. “Uh, hello.” “I’m Matteo, Lorenzo’s brother.” Yeah, I remember, Lorenzo. I like the devil better. I nodded. Lisa came back and went to drop something on the table. “Since you’re done, I’ll just go,” I told her, turning around. “No, you should join us,” Matteo stated as he took his seat. “Uh…I can’t…I…” “Okay, I’m insisting.” That was when the devil came descended the stairs. He barely made a sound yet we all felt his presence. He was dressed in his usual all-black fashion. He would have looked relaxed if he would be sensible enough to unclench his jaw.

“I have a feeling Damien Draco is going to be involved in this too. If he joins forces with two of the people that probably hate me the most on this earth, my plans could take way longer to materialize. Except I strike soon. I mean tomorrow, soon.” “Right. What do you need me to do? And what's my commission?” “How does five billion dollars sound?” She scoffed. “You want his eight hundred, and you're going to give me just five from it? Come on, Diavolo.” “You do know the eight hundred includes assets right? Not everything is in cash. I don't even know how much of it I ideally can get. Besides, you're not the only one on the payroll. You also know I can and will do this without you. Call me if

Gaetano screamed. “It’s my turn to make you suffer. You killed my baby, so I’ve killed your son. And now, I will make sure you will witness the death of your wife.” My voice was calm and steady as I spoke to him. “My dear father, you were playing with The Devil’s Fire. And you’re about to get burned.” I gave him a vicious smile. “I want him outside, tied to a pole.” I said to Damiano. “Your wish is my command, mia Donna.” Damiano looked at Gaetano with a sinister look, and for once, I think Damiano was curious to see what I had planned.

(Hey, you) I twisted his hand and grabbed him by his collar. "If you ever try to touch my woman again then I won't hesitate to kill your family." I threatened. He spit on my face and laughed. "Who do you think you are to threaten me?" I wiped off the spit and choked his neck. "Sono qualcuno da cui Diavolo viene a chiedere soldi. Se mi fate incazzare vi farò morire di fame." I whispered in his ear and he gasped. (I am someone Diavolo comes to, to beg for money. If you piss me off, I will make you guys die of hunger)

His face turned serious as he flung an arm over Aria’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “You want war? I will give you war,” Don Lorenzo raged, his eyes red as he glared from the smiling Don Vallerio—still seated on the stage—to Dante. “I promise you a painful death, one that even death itself will mourn for your suffering,” he fumed. Dante smirked. His eyes shifted to Aria as he flicked a strand of hair from her face with the barrel of his gun. He smiled.

"My mind is made up. I will marry Valerie, and no one else." The room fell silent, with his people looking at each other in shock and dismay. They had never seen Diavolo so resolute, so determined. Finally, one of them spoke up. "But Diavolo, what about the arrangement? What about the woman we chose for you?" Diavolo's expression was unyielding. "I don't care about the arrangement," he said. "I care about Valerie. And I will marry her, no matter what.” Diavolo said.

He didn’t flinch at the news delivered in hushed whispers through his earpiece. So the First had awoken. So Alessia had survived. So Dante had chosen her. He swirled the amber liquor in his glass. “No matter,” he murmured. “Let them rise. I’ll make them kneel.” Then he turned to the final chess piece on the board. A man bound in chains. Gaunt, scarred—and very much alive. Giordano Romano. The elder smiled. “It’s time to bring back the devil they buried.” The tunnel twisted like a serpent through the earth—each turn suffocating, each heartbeat echoing louder than the last. Smoke chased them from above. Cracks formed in the walls. Rubble rained in slow intervals, like time was running out in c