Prologue

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."

I Peter 5:8

Kraven

I'd been called the devil more than once, as if throwing the word in my face would trouble me in the least. In fact, I'd always taken it as a compliment. Why shouldn't I? Most people feared the devil, especially when facing death, uncertain if his or her deeds in life warranted a one-way ticket to hell.

I'd long ago accepted I would also be one of the unfortunate suckers who faced death with a mixture of trepidation and awe. I knew without a doubt that flames would be licking at my corroding body even before I was dead and buried. However, I'd always seen hell as a multi-tiered apartment where the worst offenders were kept chained in the basement, tortured by the vilest beasts, savages capable of doing unspeakable things. I had my own personal list, one I cultivated from time to time.

Sex traffickers.

Pedophiles.

Abusive husbands.

Serial killers.

Although I had to admit, some might say I fit into the last category. I would beg to differ, arguing eloquently that I only took the lives of people who truly deserved it, including the piece of scum moaning at my feet.

Yeah, I was one of the bad guys. I'd killed before and would do so again, but in my world, it was all about targeting or stopping an enemy before a war was started. That would lead to innocent lives lost. The reason for worrying about lives of men and women just trying to make ends meet wasn't heroic by any means. It was simply about the loss of money.

I was a powerful businessman after all.

And a ruthless fuck.

Which is why eliminations for betrayal and attempts to harm my regime were necessary. But the bread and butter of satisfying the violent man inside of me was all about erasing the vilest roaches from this earth.

The guy lying in his own blood was just such a man. He had no conscience and no sense of remorse for kidnapping and trading little girls for money, and I couldn't care less if the devil's minions crawled up from the depths to rip the bastard apart limb by limb.

This fuck had made a bad decision, deciding to destroy the life of an innocent girl I knew. Bad move. Very bad.

I flexed my hand, staring at the blood on my knuckles. Perhaps for the first time in as long as I could remember, my fingers would bruise. Par for the course. I jerked the son of a bitch up by his throat, the bastard's eyes opening wide. "You fucked up big time, Steve." I punched him hard once again, turning my head as pink-foamed spittle flew from his mouth all over my shirt. "One day you'll learn you don't treat women that way."

Of course that would be during his eternity on a cruise ship in hell.

Fuck the bastard. I spit on his face, dropping him like a rock. I was now in a piss-poor mood, the hunt taking more out of me than usual. I was no goddamn crusader, yet here I was acting like one. Maybe I should leave the toilet trash to someone else to give a shit about.

"What do you want me to do with him?" my second in command asked.

"Finish him off and shove him in the Morellis' shark tank."