Dead Devil’s Playground (Dead City #2)

Prologue

Two fucking years.

Two long, blood-soaked years I’ve ruled this hellhole from the shadows with Rev and Kai by my side. Or under me. Or behind me. Or on top… you get the picture.

Two years of anonymous enemies—faceless cowards—scrambling in the dark, trying to take down the phantom who dared step into their dirty playground, who had the audacity to end their reign of terror.

No more killing, no more raping innocent lives.

We made this city ours. Not with shiny crowns or sly handshakes but with guns, knives and violence.

Every year, I still let chaos off its leash for one night, allowing them a taste of the madness they crave.

But even in the depths of carnage, my rules reign.

Cross that line? They don’t get a warning.

I don’t send polite little memos or hallmark cards.

The stories? They whisper them in dark corners: Break my law, and I appear.

Out of nowhere, like smoke. One second, nothing.

The next? They’re dead—they don’t live long enough to describe what happens after.

I am the sweet nightmare in combat boots they can’t escape.

I am the rumor that haunts their last breaths, the predator they’ll never see coming, the executioner in the shadows. Better they never see my face, better they tremble in ignorance. For their safety? No. For mine.

But honestly, I don’t give a shit either way.

You can’t kill what’s already dead.