Liana Evans never believed in monsters. Not the kind that wore suits. Not the kind that whispered orders while holding a gun to someone's head. But that was before she saw him.
Before she was marked by the devil himself.
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
She locked up her aunt's flower shop and took the alley shortcut home—like she always did. The streets of Chicago's south side were rough, but she'd never had a reason to be afraid.
Until tonight.
A crack of a gunshot tore the silence. Liana froze mid-step. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and thudded on the wet pavement. Around the corner, voices snarled like wolves.
> "This is what happens when you steal from me."
She peered just enough to see: a man on his knees, begging. A pistol pressed to his forehead. Three guards. And one man in the center—silent, statuesque, eyes colder than death.
He didn't blink when he pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed.
Liana gasped.
That one sound sealed her fate.
His head turned slowly. Eyes black as night met hers. No rage. No fear.
Just control.
Deadly. Calm. Powerful.
Leonardo De Luca — the devil of Chicago's criminal underworld.
> "Bring her to me."
> "Please, no—I didn't see anything, I swear—!" she cried out, backing away.
It didn't matter. She'd seen him.
And once you see the devil, he never lets you go.