Two
Ara
There are many anomalies in this universe—parallel worlds, the end of time, dark matter lurking in the void. Science can explain some, while others remain beyond comprehension.
In this moment, he feels like the biggest anomaly of all—something that shouldn’t exist, yet here he stands, larger than life, breaking every law of the world I thought I understood. With the rest of him shrouded in darkness, and only his eyes visible that appear to be dead at best, he looks formidable.
Under the moonlight, his stormy grey eyes gleam with a brilliance that seems almost unreal, like they hold secrets no one should know.
He must stand at a height of at least six foot seven. If his outline is any indication, he is packed with muscles. His biceps appear to be bigger than my face. No one packed with such a heavy figure should be able to move as fluidly as he does. He seems to command the shadows at his whim, willing them to conceal him as he deems fit.
His entry has caused a shift in the air. A palpable tension has risen, and I don’t know if everyone else can also sense his aura brimming with raw power and darkness.
His eyes are on me, the dead pools of grey sending waves of dilemmatic emotions into me. I’m scared and curious at the same time.
I’m used to fear; I’ve been living in fear all these years. But the pique of my curiosity, which I thought I buried, scares me more. I’m not allowed to be curious; it always brings trouble to my doorstep.
So I turn my eyes away from the magnetic pull. It took more effort than it should require in a situation like this. I stand along with Ivy, who now seems to forget about the corpses temporarily. She looks scared but also intrigued.
“Troubling women again, Luciano?”
The voice that spoke before comes from the man again as he steps into the light, drawing my attention. I hear Ivy gasp lightly, and I cannot fault her.
He is a handsome man. Tall and lean but muscled, clad in a grey suit that fits him perfectly. His blonde hair is perfectly styled, and he has the fiercest blue eyes I’ve ever seen that shine under the light. His clean-shaven face flaunts his high cheekbones and defined jaw that jumps with a dimple as he smiles.
Everything about him screams perfection and charm. He looks like an angel sent from heaven.
That is until his eyes fall on us.
They remain with poised charm when he looks at me, but there is a shift when they land on Ivy. It is subtle and lasts only for a second, but I see it. I see the monster underneath the mask of charm.
He switches back to his facade of a gentleman quickly, giving us a polite smile. I push Ivy behind me slightly, not wanting her to be in his focus anymore. He observes this, and his smile broadens, turns slightly apologetic even, perhaps trying to fool me.
I’ve learned to see the wolves beneath the sheep’s clothing, and there is nothing he could do that would convince me that he means no harm.
“Go fuck yourself, Iblis.”
The boss—Luciano—growls, but it lacks the bite. His eyes are gauging the giant whose eyes I can still feel on me. It burns the side of my face, but I refuse to meet them again. They have an odd pull on me, and its…disarming.
“That is no way to talk when in the company of women.” Iblis chides lightly.
It wouldn’t be wise to draw any attention to us in this situation. But seeing we already stand right at the centre of mayhem—quite literally, might I add—I take a step to my right, towards the door to escape. The giant man cocks his head in my periphery, the move terrifying me to the bone. It’s subtle—too subtle for someone his size. But it reminds me of a predator… the way a lion might size up its prey before deciding to pounce.
My heart thuds painfully against my ribs, a warning.
He’s not just looking. He’s calculating.
That tilt of his head says everything I need to know—whatever comes next will be on his terms, not mine.
The other man, who stands a step behind the giant’s left, steps forward and into the faint light. A silent move to stop us.
This man is also tall—not as tall as the giant—and with a sheared head. His nose is slightly bent as if it has been broken one too many times. He has a slight stubble on his square face paired with dark eyes that glare at us. He wears a tight-fitted black t-shirt that showcases the tattoos on his biceps that travel to his corded neck. He stands with his arms crossed across his broad chest and a dark scowl our way stops me in my tracks.
“You went too far this time, Devlin.”
Luciano speaks, and I turn to him, the name registering now in my frayed mind. He is glaring at the giant, and I hope against hope that I heard him wrong. In the heat of panic, the name did not register the first time he said in the absence of these three charming gentlemen’s company. But now that I hear again, my mind comprehends the name as it joins the dots. Ivy seems to register at the same time.
“Oh my fucking god!” She gasps.
Devlin turns. Despite the rage, there is still fear evident in Luciano’s eyes. He looks comical, trying to confront a man who has almost a foot over him in height and double his size.
“Where is he?”
Ivy lets out a small whimper behind me. I see the scowling man blocking our path, but it’s the one behind him who holds all the power. Iblis straightens at his voice—deep, commanding, like it’s carved from stone and shadow.
The sound surpasses anything I’ve ever heard, resonating through the air, and settling in my bones. It carries weight, the kind that compels men to spill their darkest secrets and bow their heads in submission. And despite my resolve, it reaches me too.
It’s a voice that doesn’t just demand obedience—it pulls it from you, stripping away resistance with every husky, authoritative word.
A shiver races down my spine, unbidden. Not from fear. Something darker. Something I can’t afford to name.
If he were a commander of troops, his voice alone would carry across the battlefield. The kind of voice that could command the fiercest armies and silence the world with a single word. Maybe this is what the warriors of old looked like—the ones from the medieval era, hardened by war, men who didn’t just fight but conquered.
His voice isn’t just deep—it’s relentless. Unforgiving. It reminds me of the North Sea—harsh, wild, dark. A sea that carries death in its tides and pulls everything under, swallowing even the strongest without mercy.
“He is not here. He ran away the minute he knew that you were coming.” Luciano speaks.
“You know harbouring a Crescenzo, let alone Amos will cost you your life,” Iblis counters, glaring at the man.
Iblis's angelic face transforms into something dark. None of them look fazed at the corpses and the fresh one I’ve added to the list. But again, why would they? They could be the ones who hung them all here. Compared to what they have done, my bullet inside Nero’s forehead is nothing.
“I swore allegiance to the house of Crescenzos. Not bastards like you who grew in filth and were only meant to be used and discarded. How dare you sit on the throne of Luigi when you should be nothing but boot-licking worms. You should all have died along with Iko and his fucking wife who’s-“
One minute, the lunatic is rambling on as if he is possessed by a demon, and the next moment he is flying in the air. Devlin’s heavy leg kicks him right in the chest and throws him a few feet into the darkness. Luciano coughs as he tries to sit.
“Nico,”
Iblis waves for the man who’s blocking our escape. He prowls towards a coughing Luciano and drags him towards Devlin by his collar. Nico pushes him to his knees in front of his boss—no doubt—and I widen my eyes when I see his mouth spitting some blood.
All that from just one kick?
Nico yanks Luciano’s head back by his hair, forcing his gaze upward. His grip is firm, unyielding, like he’s done this a thousand times before. Devlin leans in, his posture deliberate, predatory. His face remains hidden in the shadows, only faint outlines of his body visible in the dim light—reeking of power and menace.
He whispers something, low and cold, and whatever it is makes Luciano’s eyes widen in shock. His lips move frantically, sputtering words too soft for me to catch.
Midway, Devlin’s hand flies, and I’m barely fast enough to cover Ivy’s eyes. Unfortunately, in my shock, I forget to close my own.
With a single, crushing motion, his hand wraps around Luciano’s throat. There’s a sickening crunch, the sound of cartilage giving way, and Luciano’s scream dies before it can even form. His body spasms briefly before going slack.
Nico lets go of his head and steps back at the same time Devlin does and throws away the body. I remove my hands from Ivy’s eyes as Luciano’s dead body falls sideways and is hidden in the shadows. I shouldn’t have uncovered her eyes because the moment I did, Ivy looked down and saw the blood from the corpses flowing down under our shoes.
This causes her to jump back and bump into the first corpse. Her screams are shrill, and she loses her footing on the blood puddle underneath. I’m quick to rescue her from falling face down into the blood and grime and pull her forward. Masking my disgust and stomping on the fear that wants an outlet is proving difficult with every passing second.
“Fuck,” Ivy hisses.
I turn to see all three men look at us. I suppose, contemplating whether or not to keep us alive.
* * *
Devlin.
That is a name anyone outside Roarfort doesn’t wish to hear. I doubt even the people of Roarfort would want to hear it.
Very few are privy to know his first name. It is whispered in the dark corners of the city’s underbelly with caution. It is said that even the vilest criminals avoid whispering his name lest they summon the silent devil. The man who single-handedly crushed an empire that has been around for a very long time. The man who has instilled the fear of the devil into everyone.
Ivy once whispered the forbidden name to me after she checked the surroundings. Even in the confines of my home, she worried that someone would listen. That he might be listening. It’s said that he has ears everywhere. People believed him to be the devil, as whenever his name was whispered, he seemed to appear out of thin air with a promise of painful death.
Zagan.
The commander of demons. That is what his name means.
He is more than a commander. He is the reigning king of the hell, the devil himself.
It is said that there are not many who remain alive after they see his face. His acts of violence, ruthlessness and cold-blooded killing have reached all over, but not many know him personally. He keeps himself hidden, loving the shadows so much that he turned to rule them. And that ruler stands in front of us, his stance wide and hostility brimming in waves around him.
Nico steps back to Zagan Devlin’s left, fading into the shadows, while Iblis moves to his right, the moonlight catching part of his face. I expect them to talk, say something but they don’t.
They remain quiet, the silence turning me anxious by the second. Every minute that is wasted here will cost us. I take a step towards the exit with Ivy in toe, one eye focused on the giant—Zagan Devlin— whose eyes never leave us.
I expect Nico to stop us again, but he doesn’t.
This feels like some kind of a trap. I test them again, taking a few steps more before I stop. When they don’t stop us, I grab Ivy’s hand and dash towards the door. Despite the warmth that hits my back from someone’s attention, I don’t turn. Ivy does, takes in a sharp breath and gives me a look.
“This feels too easy,” she whispers.
I don’t comment. I cannot. My eyes are fixed on the exit. We just have a few more feet and after that, we can make the run to my car. We have to get out of this abattoir.
Just as we reach the doorway, a man appears suddenly, as if out of thin air. This causes Ivy and I to let out a small yelp and jump back.
Under the moonlight, this man looks scary. He is handsome with eyes that glint, dark hair, high cheekbones and a toned body. He is clad in a fashionably loose dark shirt tucked into his trousers. When he smiles, it resembles an unhinged serial killer rather than a sane person.
“Can’t have you leaving yet, lovelies.”
This time, Ivy pushes me behind her, trying to face this new man who gives the vibes of a deranged psychopath. The madness can be seen in his eyes and he makes no effort to mask it. He wants the fear and looking at his euphoric smile, he seems to enjoy ours.
“We just want to leave, please, let us go.” Ivy pleads, somehow keeping her voice from shaking.
The sudden arrival and loss of hope of our escape has me shaken. It is getting difficult by the minute to maintain my composure. Everything that has transpired in the last hour is too much for my brain to comprehend.
My hands shake and the security of my gun is the only thing that keeps me tethered to this ground right now. I know that if push comes to shove, I’ll be able to protect us. I can shoot, I will at least hurt them before they can kill me. I could even provide the chance for Ivy to run. I’m on borrowed time anyway.
“Sorry sweetheart, can’t do that unless the boss man there gives you a go.” The new guy shrugs carelessly as he takes a step forward.
It has us taking one backwards. This continues until we are standing right where we had been. With our backs to the hanging corpses and facing the men who resemble the legion of devils.
“How did you like my new masterpiece, boss? I know you said to keep it clean and I tried my best.”
The new stranger looks at his boss, resembling a kid who’s eager for his father’s approval for his new scribble that he calls a painting. I can feel the slippery floor beneath my heels and smell the stench of blood behind me. If this is his version of keeping clean, I wouldn’t ever want to know his version of messy.
“Didn’t know vying for validation is your thing Eero,” Nico taunts the new guy—Eero.
Such strange names they all have. I bet all of their meaning are somehow linked to chaos or darkness.
“Shut up, fucker. It has been a while since I’ve been able to use the slaughterhouse with these many,”
I can feel the nausea climbing up my throat. Ivy grabs my hand for support and I go to stand beside her, trying my best to control the bile. These people talk about killing men as simply as we discuss clothes. And they have a thing called a slaughterhouse? Good god.
“Seems your crude words are unsettling our guests. Show some restraint in the presence of women, Eero.” Iblis speaks.
And surprisingly the man listens.
“Sorry,” Eero looks at us, but he doesn’t look sorry at all.
I cannot take another bout of silent standoff again. My heart’s palpitations are faster than I’d like and I know I cannot keep up this composure and clarity for long.
Normal people aren’t built like them. I’m afraid that if I lose my composure, it will affect my aim. Without perfect aim, the chances of survival go down. It might cost us our freedom, I might not be able to protect Ivy or give her enough time to run.
No, this will have to conclude, soon.
“Why can’t we leave?”
I’ve had the experience of remaining calm in dire situations before. And I’m thankful that it helps me keep my voice firm. I can’t see Nico’s and Devlin’s faces, but I see Eero and Iblis’s eyes flare with surprise for a moment before it is gone.
I’ve been told that my voice has a certain effect on people. Mom used to call me a mermaid until I told her the dark origins of the tale and how they used to lure sailors to eat them. I have seen the effect it has on others as well, but I didn’t think it would affect these battle-hardened criminals as well. If it does, maybe I could use it to my advantage.
“Because you have seen and heard things that make your lives… burdensome,” Iblis takes a step forward but still remains a step behind his boss.
He does most of the talking, but it’s clear who’s the boss. If not for his name I heard, with the way others stand behind him, hands clasped behind their backs, poised to follow his orders like obedient soldiers, they paint a quite obvious picture.
“We have poor memory. We easily forget traumatic things.” I quip.
This causes Iblis to smile slightly and Eero to chuckle. Nico and Zagan remain quiet.
“Do you?”
I nod, and so does Ivy. I cannot ignore the way Iblis’s eyes stay on her for a second longer and the way they travel all over her.
We need to get out of here. Soon.
“What is it that has girls like you trotting around here anyway?” Eero asks.
My face remains the same fearful expression I’m forcing it into, but I see Ivy growing tensed from my periphery. She isn’t used to confronting men like this. She doesn’t know that they look for every microexpression and use it against you. As expected, they notice the change in her demeanour and their eyes grow hard.
“Reporter?” Iblis asks.
“How did you know?”
I shut my eyes for a brief second, willing my patience.
Iblis smiles at Ivy’s indirect confirmation and she shivers.
“They are the only lot who still doesn’t learn,” Eero tsks as he shakes his head.
“Would be reporting this in your paper, Miss…?”
Iblis waits for her to reveal her name. And before she does, I grab her wrist to stop and speak.
“No. We want nothing to do with any of the…events that occurred here. We just want to leave and forget this night ever happened.”
We are by no means revealing our names to the men who run this bloody country and belong to the bloody mafia. We might as well hand them over our ID cards and place a welcome mat into our lives and let them torch it up.
And with the way he keeps looking at Ivy, giving our names is the worst possible thing to do.
“And we can just take your word for it?” Iblis raises his brow.
“Yes, and also that we are not suicidal or foolish to report something that will vanish by dawn.”
No one speaks. But something else happens.
Something that has me drawing in a shuddery breath and bracing myself for the unknown. Zagan Devlin takes a heavy step forward, one more and one more until I push Ivy behind me again. It is a poor attempt at protection but he will have to go through me to hurt her.
“Don’t come closer,”
Eero raises his brows as if he cannot believe I would order his boss.
I raise my hands and point my gun at the man who ignores my words and continues to walk forward. The shadows are still concealing his face except for those alarmingly dead eyes that look at me with…nothing.
He emerges like a figure from a nightmare. The polished tip of his shoe gleams first under the moonlight, followed by his large feet and thick, powerful legs encased in black trousers that hug his muscles. A belt catches the light, reflecting off his solid frame. His broad shoulders taper to a strong waist, but every inch of him is carved from strength, a body built for dominance.
One hand rests casually in his trouser pocket, the other hanging at his side, revealing forearms and fingers thick with muscle, veins snaking under the tanned skin. His perfectly fitted black shirt clings to his form, tucked into his trousers, giving him a presence that feels unbreakable. He looks colossal, indestructible, like a force of nature.
On anyone else, these muscles might scream excess, like an ad for steroids. But on him, they just work. I hate to admit it, but he’s undeniably attractive.
His rolled-up sleeves flaunt arms that could be every woman’s fantasy, and the fluidity with which he moves seems unnatural. With every step, the air around me grows heavier, and I seem to lose my coherent way of thinking.
“Sir, I will shoot. Please don’t come any closer.” I warn again.
My voice is breathy this time. Ivy curses behind me, refusing to stay there. I place my finger on the trigger and look to see if any of his men would protest or would even want to stop me. Iblis looks bored, I still cannot see Nico, and Eero shakes his head at me in pity. I turn back to the giant man.
His face is last to come into the light. And I’m not prepared for it. I don’t think anyone would be prepared for the man who is Zagan Devlin.
His hair, darker than the night itself, is meticulously styled, not a strand daring to move even with the wind. His eyes, stormy grey, seem lighter in the moonlight, yet they gleam with danger. A jawline sharp enough to slice through paper. High cheekbones framed by a thick, well-kept beard. His nose is strong, slightly crooked at the top, as if it’s been broken. But rather than diminishing his allure, it adds to the ruggedness of his features. His face could be a weapon—he looks the bait to draw in his prey. But it’s not his devilish charm that pulls me in. It’s the scars.
He bears a few scars. The longest, deep and jagged, starts from his left temple, slicing through his thick eyebrow, down his cheek, and disappearing beneath his beard. Another one cuts across the corner of his lips, leaving them perpetually curled in a frown. A third runs below his chin, tracing the line of his jaw down to his corded neck. Beneath his collar, tattoos peek out, hinting at the ink that sprawls across his forearms, as if the scars are merely the prelude to a much darker story written on his skin.
In the light, fully exposed, the man is nothing short of formidable—majestic, yet as dangerous as any beast. His towering height and the sheer mass of muscle he’s sculpted make him seem capable of overpowering anyone. But it’s the way his eyes burn with an unsettling beauty and the weight of power he carries with him that truly set him apart. How can eyes that look so stunning hold such a dead, lifeless gaze?
He has caught me completely off guard. My inhibitions, my thoughts, my survival instincts—all of them blur as my neurones are consumed by the sight of the man, as if the gods themselves shaped him with their own hands. Just as Ivy shifts behind me, I instinctively reach to stop her.
In my haste, my mind still tangled in confusion, my finger pulls the trigger.