The Devils Ring Novels & Stories

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.

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.

When they finally finished, many of them were breathing hard, faces red, muscles burning. “Get up,” Vito ordered. They stood quickly, some of them swaying slightly. “Divide yourselves into groups of ten,” Vito continued. “Take numbers. Groups go into the ring one by one. Fight until only one man is standing. Anyone who gets defeated comes down and does another two thousand push-ups. Winners of each group will fight each other. The final winner fights me.” The men exchanged uneasy glances. Fighting each other was one thing. Fighting Vito was something else entirely. They had all seen what happened to people who stepped into the ring with him.

Over the course of my quest for answers, I had transformed into a force that was unyielding and insensitive to the cries of people who were caught up in the currents of my vendetta. Nevertheless, my phone buzzed just as the doors to the dungeon rumbled shut behind him, a ruthless incursion that shattered the quiet that had been present. There was a video that appeared on the screen, and it was a horrible vision that left an indelible mark on the various parts of my awareness.

The Earl shrieked in wonder, "You call her a maiden! She is no maiden. She's a thief! A mercenary, unbelievable thief!" He continued barking while he walked backwards away from them, "She handed her drink to the Earl of Vetcom, said things too daring for any normal Scottish woman and stole food. You would not call such person a mai…" He found himself staggering suddenly, noticing he was just at the edge of a ditch, one he didn't notice because he was too busy shouting. While he found himself falling into it, a hand quickly gripped around his hard and tight. Gently, that same hand pulled him up, straight back to his balance. And it was the devil herself.

Vincent's reputation was unquestionable; he soon became a living legend in the eyes of many. Hell Moon is a Pack lying on a mountain with complex terrain and depleted resources. Despite being one of the long-lived Packs, Hell Moon's power soon dwindled, leaving them just an empty shell. But in the last four years, Hell Moon has risen again strongly thanks to a notorious warrior Vincent Charles; under his leadership, Hell Moon's territory is constantly expanding and has never been defeated in any battle. Compared to a few years ago, the current region of Hell Moon has developed more than three times; in the eyes of the people of Hell Moon, Vincent is nothing more than a god for them to worshi

I whisper in fear. Tsking, and biting his lip, he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Don’t think of it like that,” he says sweetly, his nefarious smile shifting to sweet and beautiful. “I’m just a fragment of dust of what you may term as the devil. So small and useless until I’m given instructions by my boss. In this case, Mr. Memphis, otherwise known as Devlin, and the water of power he pours to me in form of instructions, stirs my little particles into a pile of mud and I get my power from him. But for now, I’m nothing more than a human just like you and everyone else in your little world.”

But I am me and me is a fucking bad brat of the devil himself. I did not answer them for a long time and kept a poker face as I saw them shift uneasily as they held a joint ring in front of me. The ring was beautifully designed. It was dragon shaped and and the eyes of the dragon had blue sapphires set on it while a huge diamond solitaire stood in the middle depicting the open mouth of the dragon with rubies surrounding the body of the dragon. The ring must cost the fortunes of atleast five packs together ! Were they fucking serious to entrust their fortune on my fingers !!

"Ever felt your own aura trapped inside of you, unable to flow? Feels like drowning from the inside, doesn’t it?" The devil gasped, eyes widening in pure terror. "Tell me where the cursed stone is," Sir Jason demanded. For a few seconds, the devil gritted his teeth, trying to fight back. But his body shuddered, sweat beading at his temples. "A-alright! Alright! It's hidden… among the artifacts marked with the Sigma Symbol!" he spat out, voice strained. Immediately, Sir Jason withdrew his hand, and the devil gasped for air, his aura flowing freely again. He collapsed against the net, panting.