Painted Devils Novels & Stories

What sinister plans do my uncles have for me? Have they truly handed me over to the devil himself?

*Harley's POV I can't imagine living without you — bloody liar! The music blares through the speakers as The Devils sing their latest single. Rock' n roll is what they are generally known for, although tonight they have peeled off a layer or two with some pop. They are a group of four guys with their signature long hair and tattoos. The lead vocalist is a handsome man with a nice trimmed beard and an enchanting voice. The bar is packed with people, more entering by each minute.

“You talk a lot.” “You’re so mean.” I pouted before a genius idea popped into my mind. “You know what? We should be best friends because you’re marrying my best friend. We should all be best friends together!” I couldn't contain my excitement and hugged him tightly with a big smile on my face. “Althaia.” The familiar voice of the Devil spoke, making me turn around to look at him. “Oh, look who came over, Tank Man. It’s il Diavolo.” I giggled.

he turned to her, "aren't I right darling?" As the lady grinned, she heard the King bark again, "Don't you dare lay a finger on that portrait." Now every one of them smirked at the frustrated man who seemed to have suddenly gone psycho. He was surrounding, outnumbered, literally helpless, and in all, outsmarted by seven young humans. And he knew it. When he looked up again, there was Monica with her blade in the air, daring to carve it through the historical painting. Just at the other side of his office, his sons stood, seemingly ashamed and ignoring the trauma he was going through.

Monica said, holding up the phone like evidence in court. Verity looked properly guilty now. “I’m really sorry. I literally have no reason to avoid your calls. I’ve just been having a really long, frustrating day trying to paint, and nothing is coming out right. I think I’m just having a bad day.” Monica hummed, not entirely convinced, but her expression softened slightly. “Did you at least take pictures of them? It’s kind of hard to believe you’d mess up a painting, to be honest.” Verity chuckled despite herself. “I adore how much you believe in me, but girl, I really fucked that shit up. And yes, I did take pictures.”

“Perfect choice, Diana.” I took a breath and turned to face him fully. He moved closer, his expression as serious as ever. “When you get to the auction, you need to be sharp. Watch everything, watch everyone, but don’t let them catch on to what you’re really after. I want you to win The Revolt of Palermo. Don’t worry about the price. Go all the way. It’s essential that you bring that painting back.” I nodded, taking in every detail of the plan.

Subject line: “You Asked for the Devil” The file was massive. Raphael stood behind me, watching as I clicked open layer after layer. Lucian Damian Devlin. Born in Austria. Raised in Switzerland. Fluent in five languages. Educated in private institutions under aliases. Trained in weapons, finance, manipulation. Current occupation: CEO of Devlin Global Holdings. Unofficially: Heir and now head of the Devlin Cartel — a billion-dollar empire of drugs, trafficking, and global political influence. I scrolled, the blood draining from my face.

As if being named gave him permission to speak, the man said, “Sounds like he saw the Devils, for sure, Prez.” “No kidding.” Crusher stared at Michael again, but this time he looked thoughtful. “So you saw Dux, Drake, Viking, and Ice shoot up your sacred Garden.” “I – I guess so,” Michael said, thinking that ‘Ice’ was surely the one with the cold stare. “I mean – I’m assuming you know these boys?” “Oh, hell, yeah. We go way back with The Road Devils – or at least we did until the fucking President Wolf Connor pulled them out of the life. Took them straight.”

Delvin said. “But..” I interrupted. “But nothing, there is no room for sulking on my watch. Today is going to be perfect.” He said. “Now let’s get you our of that and in to something more presentable because no offense but I can’t be see around with…that.” He said with a scowl. I looked into the series of mirrors at the left side of the TV room, I had on my overly over sized/ not at all flattering pink hoodie which had a Pokémon drawing on it and a white short short, my hair looked a mess like it hadn’t been combed for days, I took down my braids just a few days ago so I now actually have to be an adult and actually care for my hair, that’s why I love having braids!! I don’t have to stress a

"What if the ghosts are real, though?" Alex killed the headlights by cutting the engine as soon as they entered an empty alley. Silence enveloped the narrow space between them, weighty and charged. When the picture was eventually unfolded, Emery carefully smoothed out the wrinkles. A woman standing in candlelight with a face that mirrored Emery's own was depicted in the eerie, oil-stroked painting. Her breath caught, though, at the signature at the bottom. De Valois, Aurelia. She had never heard the name before, but something about it made her shudder.