The Devil Inside Novels & Stories

I just tried to twist my waist out of his hold But the way he caught me, I got out of his grip. It seemed almost impossible. "Roose ….My crystal My baby! So you are calling me a devil. Yeah you are right I'm devil! Now you will see the real face of the devil, And I swear you won't be able to forget this Devil. I have been lovingly explaining for a long time, but you did not understand, now you come here to me and If you do not come to me within the next second, then you will be responsible for whatever happens tonight!."Christian said .

”Nice flowers.” Wendy commended as soon as Rebecca entered the room. Rebecca on the other hand didn’t pay attention to what was said. She was lost in a world of her own thought. She didn’t see the face of the biker, but from the sound of his voice, she could tell who it was. It was a voice she would recognize anytime, any day. The voice of the devil who haunts her in her dream. A pat on the shoulder brought her back to reality. She jerked and the flower slipped from her hands, but Wendy caught it before it could fall to the floor.

It was just a way for him to have control and power over me. But I’m the one with the power here. To get my revenge, I would do anything, I would give anything, and right now, I was selling my soul to the devil. But in this story, there are two devils. One doesn’t just know it yet.

She felt Olivia before she heard her. Olivia made her way downstairs. She'd heard the car drive up over an hour ago and wondered what kept Cassandra away. Then she'd thought about it, and she'd known. Olivia's judgment. Olivia's sense of right and wrong. Olivia's naive thinking was that the world was simply black or white. She couldn't change the fact that she hated what Cassandra did, or what she stood for. And she couldn't start thinking that even though everyone around her thought they were the good guys, they weren't. But she could offer Cassandra the comfort of a friend. She'd grown up in this world, she'd seen the worst kind of people in it. Emma, Vance, Pedro, and Cassandra weren't li

DANTE'S POV People call me the Devil of New York. They're not wrong. I've killed men for less than a dirty look. I've gutted rats who thought they could steal from me. I've fucked women who begged for mercy and made them beg for more pain instead. My empire runs on blood, loyalty, and fear. That's the only language this rotten world understands. And tonight, I reminded everyone of it. Crawford thought he could play me. Thought he could borrow money from my syndicate, promise returns, and then ghost like I'm some dumb fuck banker. No. You don't spit in my face and walk away.

DOOM’S POV My shoulder still throbbed like a bastard, but I refused to let it show. I swapped my usual suits for a simple black shirt and a pair of tailored shorts, unbuttoned just enough to tease. It was warm tonight, and Sally liked casual Doom, something about seeing the devil without armor made her smile, maybe because it made her feel closer. The dining room lights were dimmed low, casting a golden warmth across the mahogany table. Candlelight flickered beside the fine china, and soft instrumental jazz hummed from the walls. I had told the staff to stay far away, tonight was ours.

“…just like your mother.. You are a bigger devil than she ever was.” My eyes flew open and the steering wheel vibrated beneath my hands. The engine was still running.. Sunlight had finally broken across the skyline. My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as the words echoed inside my skull. You’re a monster… Just like your mother… You’re a devil..

Like… It was insane, but why did it feel like he was staring at me as if I had just walked right into his trap? Something wasn't right. Before I knew it, those words rang in my head again. He was the devil— the kind who whispered tempting things, making it impossible to resist, making you crave him even when you knew you shouldn't. Stay away from the devil. He is dangerous. He is horrible and cruel. If you give in to his temptations, your body and soul will be his. You can't run from him because, in the end, he always takes what is his.

Only the foolish make deals with the devil. Only the ones drowning in pride… or pain. Because the devil doesn’t barter. He doesn’t wait at crossroads. He doesn’t ask for permission. He takes. He does not knock—he kicks down the door. He does not beg—he commands. He does not love—he consumes. He wraps his hunger in charm, his cruelty in confidence, his madness in tailored suits and cold, perfect smiles. And once you catch his eye, it’s already too late.

She turned her head to meet the Devil's icy, harsh gaze. Oh my God! After yet another fight, she began to choke on her vomit. She gritted her teeth and kept her mouth shut to avoid drawing attention. The Devil's attention quickly shifted from her to another target, and he pinned them with his angry look. Why is she so depressed? His singing voice was sophisticated and silky, and it was really lovely. Similar to the voice of the Devil. "She has a lot of internal wounds to deal with. Now, I think it's acting up.