Diavolo Requiem Novels & Stories

Dio (God)… the hatred in them could burn an entire city to the ground. “Nikita!” Valentino’s voice thundered from behind her, filled with rage and warning. “Touch a single strand of her hair and I will show you exactly why they call me Il Diavolo di Milano (The Devil of Milan)!” She did not even turn to look at him. Instead, she smirked. “Is the Devil of Milan in the room with us?” she taunted, giggling lazily. My breath caught as her hand slid from my face to my chin, then slowly down to my neck.

Requiem Aeternam — a Latin expression meaning eternal rest. There's no expression that could match so well the events that would mark forever the lives of the people involved… That happened exactly three days after Giovanni Reviello took over the family and revealed the alliance between Corvi Neri and LA FAMIGLIA, through the marriage of Lisette and Thomas Marchetti. ㅤ ㅤ … Chaos. What Giovanni is seeing before his eyes is real chaos. A man is shot in the head before him, falling to the ground, creating a reddish pool before his feet.

The women scrambled, their faces paling as they realized the shift in the air. Diavolo stood slowly, his playfulness dissolving into a sharp, focused intensity. “That serious?” “Yes.” Minutes later, the four of us... myself, Daemon, Draven, and Diavolo were gathered in the council room. The air smelled of old paper and suppressed violence. Draven sat upside down in his chair, spinning a butterfly knife with hypnotic speed. Diavolo was halfway into his dress shirt, his hair disheveled. I stood at the head of the table. On the screen behind me, footage of the cathedral played in a loop: blood-slicked marble, shattered stained glass, and the frantic, panicked faces of onlookers.

I hated the sound of that but I loved that she hated the sound of that too. "Gloat all you want now, girl. You won't last a day with Diavolo." Her shit eating grin soon returned to her face, "I hope you'll have the same fire after you see what Hell is." Satisfied, she walked away. I wanted to drag her back by her hair and show herself how much fire I've got but she was the least of my worries. I didn't know a lot of Italian words but I knew what Diavolo meant. My soon-to-be husband wasn't just the devil as a criminal.

"You asked for it..." Diana was nervous and excited. This was something she'd wanted to do in her previous life but hadn't dared to. Eyes burning red, Diana nodded vigorously, her small hands uneasily taking the initiative to tug at Alan's robe. "...." The urgency... It was like, she couldn't wait for Alan. Whatever tricks she was playing, Alan just wanted to make her cry at that moment. "Alan..." the bite on her neck made Diana's eyes red with pain. Is he a dog?

We are doomed, aren't we? Xx____xX

His eyes widened when he noticed one of his bourbon bottles missing from the shelf, and another wine had replaced it. He wasn't petty, but the bourbon was his most prized possession, and he would know if anything happened to one. Jules's eyes narrowed as he tried to recall if he had by chance taken it or given it to Jeremy, who regularly tried to steal it without his knowledge. He shook his head because he couldn't remember doing so. “Damnation!” He grunted as he recalled seeing a bottle in the bathroom. He assumed he got distracted by a craving for Janice's body and had forgotten he saw a wine glass with her whilst in the bathtub.

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.”

Our hands remained clasped together as the priest continued. Bruno stepped forward, carrying a small silver bowl. Inside was water, clear and still. The priest dipped his fingers in it and touched our joined hands. “By water, you are cleansed of the past.” Next, Mira brought forward a small candle, its flame dancing in the air. The priest held it between us. “By fire, you are forged anew.” Finally, Bruno produced a small ceremonial knife. My eyes widened. The priest took it and made a tiny cut on Dante’s palm.

"Did you tell your friends to post all that trash under Brenda's social feed? I knew it. I was wondering why you'd been so quiet lately. Turns out you were waiting to pull this. Do you have any idea she cried because of those comments? Get over here and apologize to Brenda right now." He had no idea my hand was shaking so badly I could barely keep hold of my phone. The wounds had gotten infected. Dozens of blisters all over my body had been lanced. Even after taking far too many painkillers, the pain was still unbearable. I wanted to tell Ronald that I had no idea what he was talking about. I was in so much pain it felt like tens of thousands of ants were crawling over and biting into my ski