Chapter 02

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Sinful

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Sinful.

An adjective for someone wicked and immoral. Sainte is sinful and earned that title by slaughtering hundreds of men. However, people tend to forget to put dark in front of the pure noun.

Beautiful.

An adjective for something that pleases the senses or mind aesthetically. Simone Devlin is beautiful. However, people tend to forget to put sinfully in front of the innocent adjective.

I wipe my face with the dark long sleeve. One thing I hate is getting someone's virus-filled blood on me. Ten men lay in puddles colored crimson red.

I fish my phone up from my pocket, and the face on the lock screen makes a small smile play on my lips. I scroll through my contacts before finding Sloane's contact.

"get someone to clean up the abandoned warehouse on street 218," I say tucking my gun back into its place, walking down the dark corridor.

"yes boss, what was it this time?" she says.

"I was leaving the Cafe then I'm shoved into a damn van, how many fucking times can a person get kidnapped until it's enough" I mumble shaking my head.

"Someone is on their way, need a ride?" she says.

"Nah, I'm not that far away. I feel like walking" I say.

"alright boss," she says, I hang up after saying goodbye.

The road is dark and the atmosphere is thick with moisture. I shrug my heels off holding them in my hand, taking the lollipop from my coat into my mouth.

There's nothing better than the high that comes after a kill.

I've walked for a while when I notice the road turning brighter. I hear the creaking of a car from behind me. With a roll of my eyes, I grab the heavy black metal before holding it towards the now rolled-down window of the car.

"continue with your journey I'm really not in the mood right now" I sigh cocking my gun.

"mhm, get in the car," the man says, his voice is velvety smooth yet deep and husky. Something inside of me ignites, something telling me to do what he says. But come on now,

I'm not stupid.

"ten seconds before you―" I pause to bend down to make eye contact with the man.

Dumb decision.

I'm caught off guard by what my eyes meet. Cold stormy eyes meet mine, the color of the sun at its hour. Just like his eyes, his hair is brown, a really dark brown. His jaw is clenched, and his chiseled face is spotting a neutral but passive look.

The man has a crisp white dress shirt on, no wrinkles. Save for the places where his large muscles are straining against the material. Tan skin, the silver watch on his wrist gleaming slightly in the dim light.

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍│18+Where stories live. Discover now