✔️ ILLICIT DESIRES | 18 +

Chapter 1

ROMAN

The Devil's Hand

The great havoc of the world — many souls are cursed with the Devil's hand. Because no matter what humankind breeds, it is always born of greed. Never satisfied. Always longing for more — prosperity, recognition. Though, in truth, one leads to the other.

I was one of the seldom souls blessed with Samaritan hands. I shared what little I had — food, shelter — though I owned nothing. No family. No name. No reputation.

My life began from scratch, and I survived with the scraps of others. Growing up on the streets, I had the experience of a grown man trapped in a child's body. Yet, there wasn't a trace of greed in me. Not until I met them.

The Devil's family.

They reached out, offering their hand. I didn't know that clasping it would mark me with the Devil's touch. So deadly. So fatal. Soaked in blood from taking lives.

I was a child. I couldn't see that the Samaritan hand they offered was veined with black, dripping venom. They fed me. I pulled the trigger. They clothed me. I pulled the trigger. For every reward, I pulled the trigger.

They raised me. And I served them. Killing became my craft, my talent. There was no life I couldn't take.

No hesitation. No guilt. I pulled the trigger without flinching — because hesitation meant death. The hunter must always strike first. Killing gave me an identity, a name: Roman Esposito.

I have taken countless lives. Innocents. Sinners. It didn't matter. I never questioned. My loyalty belonged to my creator — The Devil's family.

My hands are stained with blood. They are no different as the hand that once pulled me out of my miserable and poor life. Everyone knows. I bear the Devil's hands. My reputation precedes me — tainted, vile, unforgiving.

Becoming the Devil's hand is like having your soul ripped from your body. It burns away, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell. That emptiness becomes devotion to the family you serve. My hands are no longer mine; they are tools for their will.

The Devil's family has a name. It's called Alessi. The Devil's family has a home. It's called the Alessi Mansion. But when the Devil takes human form, it cannot outlive generations. Instead, it finds life in every capo in the family line.

My hands once served Angelo Alessi. Now, they serve Antonio Alessi. There's a subtle difference between them. Angelo saw my hands as tools; Antonio sees me as his brother. People say blood is thicker than water, but Antonio calls me his brother and treats me no differently than his kin.

He made his home mine. The dark solace of the Alessi Mansion, a nightmare for most visitors coerced into its vile and foreboding grounds, is, for me, the most comfortable place — a place where I truly feel at home.

And now, I am back home.

I stand before the Alessi mansion. Hell sweet Hell.

But even in the darkest places, you can find hope. This mansion doesn't only accommodate the dark souls, but also the souls of innocents, trained to fight with the Devil's hands. Children. The children of the Devil.

Yet, they aren't purely evil. Some are goofy. Some are downright annoying. But one inhabitant drives me utterly insane — Helena Alessi. Helena is the capo's wife, incredibly clumsy, may I add, and she has given birth to many carbon copies of herself, like Cara and Seraphina. A bookworm and a crybaby.

Exactly what this powerful Mafia house didn't need. It's very nerve-wrecking to deal with as well. Therefore, my capo, Antonio, claimed it was time for me to go on vacation, and I couldn't agree more, after I was shot by Cara and had my leg crushed by Seraphina with a toy carriage. I was done with them by the time.