Page 8 of The Devil's Dilemma

“So, what do you do?”

“I restore cars and… Nah, I can’t say it.”

“Go on. You can tell me. I’m not gonna laugh.” I was genuinely interested. Maybe it was something I could do too.

“I brew beer.”

I sat up quickly.

“Beer? You brew beer?”

“See, this is why no one tells you things.”

“What? People tell me things all the time.”

“Yes, when you’re torturing them, but how much do you know about any of the staff at the casino?”

I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them as I watched the scene below us. I knew nothing about anyone, but then I didn’t need to. Did I?

The thing was, no one feared me anymore. People should bow down at my feet like the olden days, except no one did. Devil worship wasn’t outdated, but there was so much more to occupy people these days.

Back in the day, there was no TV, no gaming consoles, and no mobile phones. Now, there were so many more options.

I longed for days gone by. Days where darkness ruled the world. Days where I was worshipped and feared. Days where the mere thought of me struck terror into the hearts of all. It seemed people were immune to the horrors I wrought, seeing it all in movies and TV shows.

At least addiction was still a thing, one I wholeheartedly supported with my gambling business.

Maybe that was my problem. I’d gone soft, but try as I might, the abject terror people used to feel when faced with me didn’t happen anymore.

Those not in the know thought the horns were a marketing ploy. Only my closest staff—most of them handpicked by Conrad—knew the truth.

But those who crossed me felt my wrath, saw a side to me that terrified the skin from their bones, and if they didn’t, I’d makethem regret their poor choices over and over again until there was nothing left.

I was the devil.

“I’m not one to mingle, Conrad.”

“Ha. Understatement of the year. No one expects you to mingle. You’re the boss.”

“Do you have a wife? A significant other?”

“Dear God.”

“Don’t say his name. You know we’re not on the best of terms.”

“Sorry, habit.”

The big man and I were not the closest of friends, as you could imagine.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He gazed into the distance.

“Conrad?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his trousers. “Looks like this is about done. We’d best get back.”

I stood and placed my hand on his shoulder.

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