Italian Devil Novels & Stories

I said, crossing my finger over my neck. "For God's sake, why did you do that?" She screamed and grabbed my shoulders. "You're crazy! That's why he's called Diavolo. No one makes a deal with the devil and wins. I tried, and now I've gotten you into all this. "I thought he said he was called the devil because of how many people he had killed." I joked.

Valerian's POV I am known to be ruthless. I am known to be a devil. Both by humans and vampires. I am often labeled as cold. As stern. As hard. I've lived hundreds of years in this lifetime and I already came to terms with that, that even I, myself believed that I am. I had to.

She flashes me another smile and adds "I think you're in my chair" And I think that I'm still unconscious because there's no way this is the woman they've dubbed La Diabla. Those two words translate to she devil. How evil does a woman have to be for the whole country to refer to her that way? The person in front of me is... No, it's impossible. Perhaps Fan's wife sent her to mess with me or this is a joke. Taking out my phone, I look up Catalina Ferrero. The first picture of her that pops up makes my stomach sink. It seems that she's been trending for the past few days. In the photo, she's covered in blood and the headline reads, "Mrs. Ferrero slaughters chicken for her guests during late hu

He nods, adjusting the rim of the glasses and turns to look out of the room through the window. To anyone else, Gio is the calm one— the saint in the room of Devils. They're so wrong. Underneath that calmness lies a demon in slumber. Gio doesn’t need a gun to kill. He erases people with just a keystroke. “Get your bitch to quiet it down, Luca. She sounds like a strangled fish.” Niccolo spits. Luca snorts, before pushing the girl off him. Her cheeks are tinted red and cum is still dripping down her lips.

his shouts of pain echoed in the closed warehouse. Soon enough, the Devil emerges from the blackness in the corners of the warehouse, an omen that devours all his path. He walks, his pitch-black leather shoes stained with blood. His trench coat takes shape, and his eyes glow with a storm of blue. “No… no!” the man begged, scooting himself away only to be blocked by the corpses in the room. “No! I wasn’t a part of this! I was only hired—“ “Killing yourself is a better mercy,” the Devil tells him.

This is forever. “Here lies Lucian D’Argento—devil to the world, but a man who loved enough to conquer death.” [TOPE]

"You're watching her again." Lucian didn't respond. His eyes stayed on the closed door. "She's different," Matteo said quietly. "You know it." Lucian set his pen down. "Different doesn't mean safe." But even as he said it, his mind betrayed him. The sound of her voice, the fire in her eyes-they'd already begun to haunt him. And deep down, Lucian Moretti, the Devil of New York, knew one truth he could never admit. He wasn't the only one in control anymore.

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

A thrill ran through me because to be fair, he did look like a boss to me. “Yes, the boss. Some people call him the devil, some go the foreign language route and call him diavolo which is Italian for devil. That should clue you in that he has Italian heritage hence his name, Luca Barone.” “Luca?” I giggled before I could stop myself. “Would you like to explain to me what's so funny, Miss Nova?” I swiftly clamped my lips in silence, and shook my head negatively. “I guessed so. Please refrain from interrupting me unnecessarily.”