𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 & 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 Revenge Countless souls have fallen prey to its grasp, their lives shattered as deeply as those they sought to harm, if not more so. For most, mere death isn't the end It's not enough to satiate their thirst They crave retribution, wish for something beyond the grave. They want misery upon those who've wronged them. Long for the torment of those who've wounded them But at the end of the day, it's merely a wish, A burning desire for- well, nothing realistic, really For they are weak. Powerless Some may even deem them useless But then, there exist the select few- those who refuse to settle for anything less than the worst, denying death's grasp to unleash a living hell upon their enemies, Those who take matters into their own hands, seizing control & becoming the architects of their own vengeance, Now those, those are dangerous. For in their eyes, the concept of contentment is a foreign notion, replaced by a searing ache for more- More agony, despair. More misery, more wails. More destruction, chaos. People like him, they feed off of fear, thrive in causing pain. They're cunning, calculating, heartless But frankly, even the most twisted of them seem like harmless amateurs in comparison to him. He reeks of death Exudes darkness, sorrow Death is all that shadows his steps, making his existence a reminder of the inevitable fate that awaits his victims. And whispers in the Russian underworld speak of him as Mors- The god of death So, what happens when a girl, who abandoned her family, her life & the very empire bestowed upon her- just to escape the sight of death, catches the eyes of the reaper? What happens when he pulls her into the abyss of his world, intent on destroying all she has fought to be in pursuit of vengeance? And what happens when, as the day wanes, the embodiment of her deepest fear captures her eyes as well?

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹 & 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗧𝗲𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗼 'Poor little soul.' A pure, innocent soul forced to face the harsh realities they said. A soul that was led down the path of darkness, One that was bent and made to be other's nightmare, only to end up deemed nature's lost cause. How tragic, right? Wrong. Because this, this is not nearly as simple. You see, mostly, if not always, the only real difference between a hero and a villain is a matter of perspective- WHO is telling the story. But not in his case. What if he really embodies the epitome of a real-life villain, instilling terror in the hearts of all those who cross his path, or even hear whispers of his name? What if he's a wicked man who ceaselessly gets whatever his icy heart craves? A monster who seeks power more than salvation, A nightmare who believes vengeance is unerring. A killing machine, devoid of heart or soul, let alone a pure one. Damien, they call him, His name whispered with terror and fear, Because Damien is not an ordinary man, but a man who clawed his way out from the depths of hell. One who's driven by a relentless pursuit of the very thing that threatens to bring downfall to the world we know. He is the reigning terror among monsters, holding dominion over the dark underworld of New York City, Even with his true identity hidden from the prying eyes of all. Damien is no ordinary man. But he is the Devil. So what happens when an angel meets the devil? When a naive runaway escapes one demon, only to find herself in the clutches of the worst of them all? ⊱ ʚɞ ⊰ ~𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗠𝗮𝗳𝗶𝗮 𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 ~𝗘𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗧𝗼 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 ~𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲 ~𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗦𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 Complete✔️

Valentin Petrov saw Inaya Singh once and never recovered from it. One year ago, he walked into a tiny flower shop trying to buy flowers for his mother in silence away from the chaos of his life. Instead, he found her. A girl with stained fingertips from arranging roses, soft music playing in the background and a smile so gentle it made something dangerous inside him go completely still. And ever since that day, Valentin has been obsessed and not the fleeting kind of obsession, the terrifying kind. The kind that has him memorizing her routine without meaning to, sitting in a blacked-out car across the street at midnight just to make sure she locked the shop safely, the kind that has him collecting pieces of her life like secrets. Her favorite tea order, the books she reads during slow afternoons, the fact she hums quietly when she's nervous. He keeps telling himself he's protecting her but deep down, Valentin knows the truth. He's a man starving for something he can never have. Because Inaya exists in warmth and light while Valentin was raised in violence. His surname is feared across entire countries, bodies follow his family's footsteps and if Inaya ever discovered who he truly was, what he's done or what the Petrov name actually means, she would look at him with fear instead of the softness he's gotten so used to. So what happens when the bratva pakhan falls for the girl who owns a little flower shop not knowing how bad the world could really get?

To the world Jadalyn Blackwood is her father's crown jewel...A flawless ballerina spinning under the bright stage lights, trapped in a perfect glass box. But Jadalyn knows the truth. Ever since her mother died and her father brought home a woman and her two golden child siblings, Jadalyn has been nothing more than an afterthought. A pretty prop used to maintain the family's public image. Then comes Alessio Petrov. To the public eye Alessio is a reckless chaotic playboy who couldn't care less about the underworld hierarchy. He was supposed to be the Bratva's second-in-command, a position he treated like a joke. But in a bloodbath that shocked the criminal underworld, the bratva had dismantled the Italian mafia from the inside out, stepping over the bodies of his enemies and he had claimed the title as Don for himself. Alessio didn't crash into Jadalyn's life by accident. He knows the rot hidden beneath her father's empire and he intends to use the lonely ballerina as the ultimate weapon of ruin. His plan is simple: snatch her away from her family, use her to get close to the blackwoods tear them apart from inside to out. But as he pulls Jadalyn into his dark orbit, the act begins to slip. --- "You should've never let me get this close Jadalyn, because now that I've tasted your light i'm never going back to the dark."

They were never meant to trust each other. Let alone bleed beside one another. Elena Corsi is a strategist, a cold-blooded heir to one of Italy's most ruthless mafia legacies. She's never needed backup, and she certainly doesn't want it, not from a Russian, and especially not from Aleksander Petrov. He's the Bratva's second in command. Silent. Brutal. And impossible to read. Sent by Giovanni Moretti to "assist" her in training the next generation of soldiers and to stabilize the Italian mafia after it's new take over, Aleksander is everything Elena hates, detached, arrogant, and unreadably dangerous. He doesn't respect her rules. She doesn't care for his silence. But with the old families rising, alliances fracturing, and a target growing on both their backs, Elena and Aleksander are forced into uneasy proximity. Between training sessions, strategic meetings, and the looming chaos of the annual mafia ball, tensions crackle and control slips. Because loyalty is currency in their world-and attraction? It's a liability neither of them can afford. But when bullets start flying, and betrayal hides behind familiar faces, the real question isn't who they can trust... It's whether they'll survive long enough to figure out what they really are to each other.

Nikolai Petrov is the ruthless leader of the Russian mafia, feared by all who cross his path. When he forces Vera Moretti, the innocent yet broken daughter of a rival mafia family, into an arranged marriage, he expects obedience and submission. But Vera, scarred by her past, hides her pain behind a facade of strength and grace. As the lines between power and desire blur, Nikolai finds himself captivated by the one thing he can't control-her heart. In a world of danger and deceit, can love survive, or will it destroy them both?

He was the boy who left to save her and the man who came back ruined. Cold when he shouldn't be, silent when all she wants is for him to talk to her, Dominico Cruz learned young that loving someone means losing them. So he left first. He always leaves first. But her? Katerina Petrov was never someone you could leave behind. She was fire and fury and loyalty sharp enough to cut throats, she loved like a war and hated like a storm, and he was the only man who ever survived both. "You don't get to leave me again and call it love, Dominico. That's not love. That's cowardice." He would burn cities for her, kill kings for her, destroy himself for her, but the one thing he can't do is stay, because he believes loving him is a death sentence. She thinks he abandoned her. He thinks he's protecting her. And neither of them realizes they're destroying each other in the process. In whatever is between the world they've been born in, love isn't gentle. It's possession, sacrifice, blood and worst of all...Brutal. And the most dangerous thing in Dominico Cruz's life was never his enemies. It was always her.

"You would be a good mom Solana." Aubree said as he watched her interact with Tatum. "You think so? I always thought my life was too busy to have kids. That's why I treat Tatum like mine." She shrugged as she sat next to him. "Just like you make time for Tatum it would be the same. You a naturally nurturing person so it wouldn't even be hard for you." Aubree shrugged. "What do you think life would've been like if we weren't famous?" "Shit how it was before. I'an even know my struggles would become a talent and get me out the hood, but sometimes it feel like the hood the only place I would wanna be in the moment. I choose familiarity over anything else." Solana nodded. She understood. Growing up in O Block wasn't the easiest, but it made them who they were today. Their struggles were the reason why they got to live lavish today. Sometimes it just felt surreal.

"You really think I'm out here giving this dick to anybody else, beautiful?" She swallowed, watching my hands go to my zipper. I smirked, leaning down, dragging my fingers up her thigh, over her soaked panties. "Look at yourself in the mirror, Jade."

I dragged my nails lightly over his chest, slow, my eyes locked on his. "You told me I was in control, remember?" My voice dipped lower, sultry, daring. I leaned close enough that my lips brushed his ear. "Then say it, baby. Say you're my bitch." A dark laugh rumbled from his lips, low and sinful, the kind that made my stomach flip. His eyes didn't waver, didn't blink. "I'm your bitch," he said...calm, but hot as fuck. The words rolled off his tongue like he'd been waiting to say them, and God, the way he said it almost made me melt right there.