V Devil Trigger Novels & Stories

For an experienced person like Gerand undressing women is not difficult for him. Now all that's left is Regi wearing undershirts and hot pants. Still closed because this person includes people who look like men rather than feminine women in general. Gerand has known about this since his first trap. Then Gerand squeezed Regi's breasts tightly and slowly then showered the woman with lots of kisses. Not long after that, Gerand kissed Regi's peach lips violently. The taste is still the same, sweetie! Due to being influenced by stimulants, Regi also followed the rhythm of the game that Gerand created. It had to be and Gerand loved it.

He should have offered up this freedom sooner. The Devil sat down on the bed, his hand coming out to pat the spot beside him. Win sat down and Adom took his hand. He eyed the Soulmate Angelic Mark for a second before turning his attention back to Win hand. He allowed his fingers to rest over the skin there and the Win gasped softly as Devil hand warmed and a spell was performed. He took his hand away and revealed a small mark-his own. Win blinked, looking down at the stylized yellow eye that was etched into the skin on the back of his hand. "Did you just . . . did you just brand me?" he asked before shaking his head. "So much for trust."

Instead of the hollow sound of wood, I hear a soft click. A compartment opens. Inside lies a black notebook. Untitled, unmarked, just the initials V.M. etched in fading ink. Vittorio Moretti. I open it slowly. No dates. No numbers. Just a list of names, some crossed out, some circled. And beside one name, scrawled in darker ink, two words that make my stomach tighten: Blood Pact. I stare at it, my pulse steady but my hands clenched. Blood Pact. The term my father used for alliances sealed by death, promises that only ended when one party was buried.

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.

“With half your men gone, you have no choice against me. I thought you would have been well prepared especially since your loyal bait escaped to inform you.” “You knew?” I asked. Dante smiled. “I planned it all. I knew you were from him and so I had to send you back as bait.” “I am not a bait.” I said within my gritted teeth. “Oh, really.” Dante said, then he averted his gaze to Salvatore, “guess your lover has lots of explaining to do.” I turned to Salvatore, but he avoided my gaze. “What do you want? Father already gave you everything, what else do you demand from me?” Salvatore bellowed in a husky voice.

The sirens didn't just wail they tore through the Tuscan silence like a serrated blade. Cali didn't flinch. She felt a cold, grumpy electricity surge through her veins, a sharp contrast to the suffocating weight of the archives. She looked at the pearl-handled derringer in her hand a small, elegant toy against the high-caliber reality of a Valenti hit squad and then she looked at Devi. Devi was already moving. The understanding husband had vanished, replaced by the ruthless predator who had survived her father’s cellar. He reached into the hollowed-out spine of a massive leather-bound ledger on the shelf and pulled out a submachine gun, the matte-black metal looking like an extension of his

“Well I've never seen beauty quite like that. The deal is yours, Diavolo. I'll even add an extra five hundred million dollars for it to become a billion dollar deal.” “Whats the catch?” “I want the girl.” My stomach flipped as I saw the devil cosplayer rise to his feet. He said something I wasn't fast enough to catch, but on closer inspection, I realized he was talking into the plug he had on. The curtain began to close. I was helped out of the glass. Before I could blink, everyone backstage had disappeared. I heard footsteps behind me and on turning, I saw the devil. “Well played.’’ He clapped. “You can’t sell me!’’ I blurted in panic.

My nails dug into my palms. Devon’s voice came again, colder. “I said left.” This time they moved. The echo stones carried the sounds in fragments. A staged rogue ambush. A trap line. Devon warned them before it snapped. One warrior ignored him and triggered it anyway. I heard the hiss of rope. A shout. Then Devon snarled, “Get down.” There was a crash. A body hitting dirt. The elders murmured. “He saved him,” one said. My father said nothing.

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.

“Then I reverse the transfer. And I make a phone call to those gentlemen searching for your father. Have you any idea what happens to the daughters of men who do not pay their debts?” I stared at him in horror. He was blackmailing me, using my family’s safety to manipulate me. The charming young man had become the very essence of the Devil. “Why?” I asked. “Why marry me? Why marry a woman you hate? How can you marry a woman you said you would never love?” Luca placed his drink down and moved towards me. He stopped right in front of me and lifted my hand so that he could examine the ring which I was now forced to wear.