Nero Dmc Devil Trigger Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 2: The Leaked Videos. (Vincenzo’s POV) Last night, I was upstairs in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of whiskey that had long since lost its burn. The lights were dim, the air saturated with perfume, lies, and secrets. The waitress had brought me my drink, but my mood was already poisoned. All I could think about was that girl... the one who dared to yell at me outside like I was some street rat. "Are you blind?" she’d said.

This was just the beginning, and our story was far from over. “Get on, we need to go,” Armando said, his voice firm yet laced with urgency. He leaned onto his motorcycle and kicked the kickstand up as I climbed onto the back, my fingers instinctively wrapping around his tight waist. I leaned my head against his back, feeling the cool leather of his jacket beneath my cheek. The bold logo of his crew stood out prominently—a devil in the center flanked by two pitchforks, all surrounded by the lettering: *Demented Devils MC*.

she answered, and Nero nodded. “You see, baby, this revolver holds a single bullet in one of its chambers. Spin the cylinder, pull the trigger, and pray that fate is on your side.” “So let’s play a game; if I say my name wrongly, then I pull the trigger on myself. If you say your name wrongly, then I will pull the trigger at you,” he explained, and Lena’s eyes widened in shock when Nero pointed the gun at himself. “My name is Dante,” he said, then pressed on the trigger when Lena’s eyes widened in shock. Nero chuckled.

One anonymous message that just says: “Hope you’re a light sleeper.” I try to ignore that one. “Alright, queue me in,” I say, booting up the game. “I’ve got half a Mountain Dew and a full sense of invincibility.” “You sound high,” Pixel groans. “High on hubris, babe.” The game loads in, and for a while, things feel normal. Gunshots, banter, Ember yelling because I didn’t revive him fast enough—it’s chaos in the best way. This is my world. Digital, safe, predictable.

His neighborhood was one of the few places in the city where you could actually hear yourself think. He walked up the path to his front door, fishing his keys out of his pocket. That's when he noticed it. The doormat. It was slightly adjusted. Just a few inches to the left, barely noticeable. But Bernard was meticulous about everything in his life. Every object had its place. Everything had an order. And the doormat was not where it should be. Someone had been here. His hand moved instinctively to his side, pulling out his gun. He held it low, finger resting on the trigger guard, and unlocked the door as quietly as he could.

"Fine, let’s do it." I got dressed quickly and we both left for the training ground, surprisingly, the underground training room looked more like an elite military bunker, cold concrete, steel racks with every weapon imaginable. Dummies that looked too human and Dante? Or should I say Doom? He was already shirtless, wrapping his hands with black tape, tattoos cutting across his arms and chest like blades... He was in his full Doom mode. He tossed me gloves. "Basic self-defense first, then we move to weapons, don’t hold back. If you want revenge, you better be ready to bleed for it."

Resolve replaced hesitation. Lucian straightened, both hands flat against the table, his shadow stretching long across the maps and names. “Prepare the men. Arm them. Train them like the devil himself is coming for them. In three nights, we hit Darius. No survivors. No mercy.” One by one, the lieutenants rose. Chairs scraped against the floor, boots pounded toward the door. They left with determination carved into their faces, carrying orders that would change the underworld forever. When the last door closed, silence fell heavy. Only the rain remained, striking against the glass like a warning drum.

Then, a small smile curved around the corner of her thin lips. **** Getting to his room, Nathan Peyton tears off all the clothes stuck to his muscular body like a stubborn leech, revealing good tone muscles and killer abs. When the clothes were finally off his luscious, alluring, and muscular skin. Nathan Peyton walked toward the mirror in the middle of his room and stood before it. The mirror was human-sized and he could see his full height being captured by the size of the mirror as he stood in front of it. Nathan Peyton, who was known as the untamed devil in the other world was the devil's son. The mention of his name alone was a sign of fear and an emblem of pain in the heart of the peop

everything in their world would fundamentally alter forever. Amelia slowly, deliberately began to tighten her manicured finger against the curved steel trigger of the weapon. "Let's see..." the devil whispered through the speakers, "...which precious little secret dies first."

“Now put this on. This is a family relic. And get ready. The car leaves in an hour.” Just as he was leaving, he stopped. “Mira?” “What?” “Please stop acting like you’re scared shitless. The wolves can smell it. There will be a lot of them out there, and not all of them are going to be nice.” And with this cheerful warning, he left. I wore the necklace, feeling the cold metal against my skin. There was a knock at the door. It wasn’t Nicolas. “Ms. Carter, I’m your driver,” he called out to me. “Mr. Moretti is waiting.”