Page 34 of The Devil's Hunt

They had created a monster, and I savored it.

There was no point in fighting against my nature, so I embraced it wholeheartedly. Behind the façade of a loyal son and heir to the empire, I was a ruthless killer, poised to take control of the kingdom with an iron fist. My father's dreams of political power meant nothing to me; all that mattered was the thrill of death and destruction as I carved my own path to dominance. Any hope for redemption or salvation for my dark soul died long ago. Now, all that remained was a cold-blooded killer, ready to do whatever it took to maintain my grip on power. But those thoughts were for another day—in this warehouse, all that mattered was savoring the sweet taste of blood on my lips as I ruthlessly eliminated any threats to my reign.

As I prepared for another kill, I couldn't help but marvel at the sinister beauty of the carnage surrounding me. The echoes of gunfire and screams filled the air, but I was entranced by the rhythm of the battle. I felt invincible, as if I had the divine power to control life and death. The night had become my playground, and the bodies of my enemies were merely trophies.

I was a god among mortals, and my dominance would be absolute. The whispered rumors of my ruthlessness only added to my allure, turning me into a legend in my own right. And as I steppedover the lifeless bodies of my foes, I knew that there was no turning back.

The world was mine for the taking, and I would claim it as my own in a blaze of blood and fire. The path to power was paved with blood, and it was my blood, my legacy that would be forever stained in the annals of history. I was the harbinger of death, the bringer of chaos, and the embodiment of fear. In this world of darkness, I reveled in the role I played, and I would continue to rule with an iron fist, forever embracing the monster within and the darkness that enveloped me.

For this was my kingdom now, and I would be its undying sovereign.

13

THIRTEEN

MILA

Icouldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw washim.

Archer King.

His face was burned into my mind.

He had infiltrated my physical world, and now my subconscious—like a cancerous growth that refused to be excised.

I could feel him everywhere—watching me, whispering to me, his voice like a siren's song.

My body quaked as I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to escape the power of his gaze.

His green eyes were hypnotic, and his chiseled jaw was full of menace. He haunted my thoughts, reminding me of everything I could have.

The way he moved.

The way he spoke.

He captured my attention with each word he uttered.

He was darkness.

Fear and danger followed him like a desolate shadow, churning inside of me until it threatened toconsume me whole.

I knew that if I opened myself up to him, I'd be walking into an abyss of doom, but still, something about him called to me from the depths of my soul.

He warned me not to get close. He said I wasn't meant for his world—a world of darkness and temptation.

Too pure.

Too innocent.

He told me I wouldn't want to pay the price it would take to be a part of his world.

Little did he know I would sell my soul to the devil himself and get on my knees for another taste of him.

Nothing could keep me away now.

The thought of being owned by him aroused something primal inside me, and I would do anything to be devoured by the alluring fire within him.

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