His Savior Her Executioner Novels & Stories

She asked. Athena smiled. “We will name him after the person I will never forget. Without him, I would probably be dead… But he sacrificed himself to save me, and our baby. I will cherish him and forever be grateful.” She looked at Ethan, who nodded and smiled like he was telling her to go on. “His name is Marcus… Marcus Reed.” FINALE Thank you for reading My Savior is a Devil until the end.

“That must be sounding stupid, I know.” “It doesn’t sound stupid. It IS stupid,” I growl, making him flinch. “What? Why?” he asks, staring at me with wide eyes. I straighten up, leaning back in my chair. “It’s not normal for them to see someone running from an execution. Executions are supposed to be welcomed by any good Christian because they wish to defeat the devil. They would have thought that you were afraid of being executed too, so the devil told you to run… Or some bullshit like that.”

What this all meant because I still don’t seem to get any of it, my mother, dead, killed by the man who had kept her safe, who had brought me to her, who I had just hugged, filled with gratitude that felt like a lifetime ago, like a dream I was waking from, a horrifying, bloody nightmare. The shift in him, from savior to killer, from gentle brother or whatever twisted version of brother he was to cold-blooded executioner, was so absolute, so sudden, it didn’t just fracture my reality, it shattered it into a million jagged pieces that rained down on me, cutting deep. He wasn’t the same man who had quietly fought in the gas station parking lot, the one who had shown that flicker of pity, the o

“And of your salvation, child.” I met his gaze, forcing my voice not to shake. “I’m not your salvation,” I said. “I’m your executioner.” He laughed, a horrible, ragged sound that echoed in the stone. “We shall see,” he rasped. “We shall see.” Valentina’s eyes gleamed. “Yes,” she murmured. “We shall.” As the door shut behind us, sealing the monster back in his cage, a plan began to form in the back of my mind-

" I found it hard to believe that someone like him was capable of regret and sorrow. He was a murderer who drove his victim to death, only to later claim he fell in love with her—it was laughable. Absurd, really. I couldn't help but sneer.

“She always was unpredictable. But you cannot hide down here.” My mother stepped between us immediately. “You cannot have her.” The Executioner’s gaze remained on me. “I am not here for her.” My heart dropped. “Then why...” He finally looked at my stomach. “I am here for the heir.” My mother lunged forward, but the Executioner sidestepped her with surprising ease, his body moving with the precision of a wolf trained for single-target retrieval. My instincts flared and I shifted halfway into my hybrid form, claws extending as instinct overtook caution.

That the man accused of trafficking women was the same one who saved me. And the worst part was that he had saved me. That part was true. The room went quiet for a moment. Vance was writing notes, Harris was flipping pages, and I just sat there, my fingers pressed so hard into my knees I could feel the shape of my nails through the fabric.

"Really! What happened to the bravado of yesterday?" Sarah flinched at the mockery in his tone, her heart sinking with each word. She felt as though she were being mocked, belittled for her desperate attempt to save her own life. "It's not possible now," he continued, his tone turning cold and dismissive. "You are to be executed tomorrow. There is no time left to find a substitute."

If I wouldn’t be drugged I would prove to you who the real culprit is, but I can't continue talking about your nonsense. “The punishment for your crime is death!” he utters so damned sure of his words and I stare at the crowd that started to cheer at his words as if he just announced that they will receive more money. I turn my head and look at Adam. Adam the love of my life and also the executioner of my life. He walks in military steps and lifts the sword that the council brought for my execution. He is not even flinching. He is doing this by conviction. He wants to kill me. His inner spirit longs for my blood.

Constantly, my mind would surge with the happening events and what I was holding inside, trying to suppress. Zarek was right, of course. I'd been off since the arrests. The shock of discovering one of my oldest friends and best warriors, Sage, had been a traitor, and that awful picture of him holding a knife to Zarek's neck—well, the results had shaken me. I did not want to see the prisoners, which was my duty. It made my stomach sick to contemplate going against them without a correct trial, devoid of the very execution of their punishment.