Marked by the Devil’s Touch.

The morning after Liana had pledged herself to Leonardo in the quiet chapel of shadows, the mansion was eerily calm—too calm. The air carried the scent of wilted roses and burnt incense, like a warning cloaked in beauty.

Liana stood by the window, dressed in a silk robe the color of ash. The light filtering through the stained glass painted crimson patterns across her pale skin, but even beauty could not warm the cold ache inside her chest.

She was no longer just a guest in the Devil's mansion.

She was his bride.

"Does the sky always look like it's mourning here?" she whispered to herself, fingers ghosting across the icy glass. "Even the sun is afraid to shine in his world."

Behind her, the creak of the heavy door interrupted the silence. She turned slowly.

Leonardo stood there, unarmored by his usual darkness. For once, he wore no black. A charcoal-grey shirt clung to his frame, sleeves rolled just below his elbows. His eyes, however, were the same—endless, haunting, and beautiful.

"I thought you'd be asleep longer," he said, his voice low but warm.

"I couldn't." She looked away. "My dreams weren't kind."

He approached, every step as calculated and silent as a predator stalking its prey—but there was no malice today, only curiosity.

"Do you regret it?"

His question pierced her deeper than he likely intended. She looked into his eyes, searching for something—anything—human. "Do you want me to?"

His lips curled, but the smirk didn't reach his eyes. "You always answer with a question."

"Because answers hurt more."

Leonardo tilted his head. "Then let me give you mine. I don't regret binding you to me, Liana Evans. Even if it damns us both."

That confession stole her breath, but before she could reply, a knock at the door made them both turn.

It was Dominic.

"The Elders have summoned her," he said. "They want to evaluate the Devil's bride."

Liana frowned. "What do they mean by 'evaluate'?"

Leonardo's expression turned stormy. "They want to test your worth."

"But I thought they accepted—"

"They accepted our union," Leonardo cut her off. "Not you."

Her spine stiffened. "Then let them test me. I've survived worse than judgment."

His jaw tensed, eyes burning. "You don't understand what these tests are, Liana. They were created to break angels."

She stepped forward, chin lifted. "I'm not an angel. I'm yours."

Leonardo flinched.

He couldn't show it, but it wrecked him.

---

The underground sanctum of the Elders was made of obsidian stone and ancient bones. The air itself tasted of fear.

Liana stood in the center, surrounded by thirteen hooded figures, their faces veiled, their voices echoing like distant thunder.

"She is mortal."

"She is flawed."

"She is fire, but we demand ice."

"Let her bleed. Let her scream."

The final voice was different. Softer. Almost…sad.

"Let her remember."

A blinding light struck her, and suddenly—

She was no longer in the sanctum.

She stood in the middle of a burning orphanage. Children's screams rang in her ears, and fire licked at her skin. She spun around, trying to find her younger self—alone, helpless, abandoned.

And then she saw her.

Little Liana. Cowering behind a pillar, blood on her hands, horror in her eyes.

Liana's heart stopped.

"No," she whispered. "Not this memory."

It was the first death she had ever seen.

The one she'd tried to forget.

A caretaker, impaled by falling debris, reached out to young Liana as her soul left her body. A whisper of gratitude passed through the air—and young Liana had watched it happen. Watched the soul rise. Watched death come for her.

That was the day her curse began.

The vision changed.

Now she was in the alley again.

The night she first met Leonardo.

But this time, she was alone. No Devil. No protection. Just the three men with hungry eyes.

Liana fought. Kicked. Screamed.

But no one came.

She fell.

She bled.

Until—

Black smoke exploded through the alley. A hand gripped her wrist.

Lucivar.

Leonardo in his devil form.

Eyes like obsidian hellfire. Fangs bared. Wings stretched.

He didn't just kill them.

He devoured their souls.

The memory faded, and Liana collapsed to her knees, breathless and shaking.

The Elders' voices returned.

"She fears."

"She burns."

"She bleeds."

"But she does not break."

Leonardo appeared beside her, fury rolling off him in waves. "Enough," he growled.

"She is not one of us," one Elder hissed. "She is a heart in a world of shadows."

Leonardo lifted her into his arms, defiant. "Then let her be the heartbeat of Hell."

He carried her out of the sanctum, ignoring their murmurs, his arms tightening around her trembling form.

"You passed," he whispered against her hair. "Even when I didn't want you to."

Her fingers clutched his shirt. "They made me remember things I buried."

"I know. They always do."

"But why?"

He paused. "Because we are not allowed to love the fragile."

Her head tilted toward his chest. "And yet… you do."

Leonardo said nothing.

But the silence was answer enough.

---

Back in her chambers, Leonardo watched her sleep. The firelight danced across her skin, and for a moment, he allowed himself the weakness of wonder.

She had stood in front of monsters and didn't flinch.

She had remembered her worst pains and still walked forward.

And she had called herself his.

It was dangerous. It was unforgivable.

But it was beautiful.

Dominic entered quietly, bowing his head.

"You know what this means," he said.

Leonardo nodded. "She's no longer prey. She's part of the game."

"Are you ready to give her up if it comes to that?"

Leonardo's jaw clenched. "If I must… I'll burn the whole board first."

---

Liana woke with the taste of smoke in her mouth and sorrow in her chest.

But when she opened her eyes, she saw a rose on the pillow beside her.

Black. Thorns intact. Wrapped in a velvet ribbon.

A note lay beneath it, in Leonardo's elegant handwriting.

> "To bleed for you is to be human. To die for you is to be the Devil."

 —L.D.L.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she clutched the rose to her chest.

And for the first time since becoming his bride, Liana no longer felt caged.

She felt chosen.

---

Liana stared into the darkness of the Devil's study, the lingering scent of ash and old parchment clinging to the air. Leonardo—or was it Lucivar now?—had vanished the moment she uttered those fateful words: "I'm not afraid of what you are." And yet, that truth echoed louder in her own chest than in his silence.

She wasn't sure if she had meant it completely.

Because fear wasn't always a scream. Sometimes, it was a whisper that lived beneath your ribs, pulsing with each heartbeat. And right now, Liana felt it—slow, cold, and intimate.

She walked toward the massive arched window where the moonlight fell like silver ink across the black marble floor. The chains Leonardo had once conjured in fury to bind her soul now shimmered faintly across her skin—not physical, but present, as though they remembered their shape.

She touched her collarbone absentmindedly. It didn't ache, but her soul did. And yet...she wasn't retreating. Not anymore.

Behind her, a low rumble stirred the silence.

"I warned you," came the deep, velvet growl.

Leonardo's voice was unmistakable. But it was Lucivar standing in front of her—the darkness in his eyes had eclipsed any trace of the man she'd glimpsed in rare vulnerability. His power hummed like a storm beneath his skin, and his coat fluttered with unseen wind.

"I know," she whispered, still facing the window. "You warned me a thousand times. And yet you still save me when I should be running."

His steps were silent, but she felt his presence wrap around her like a cloak of shadow.

"I didn't save you because you deserve it," he said, voice low, barely more than a growl near her ear. "I saved you because I couldn't bear to watch you break."

Liana turned slowly to face him. "But you're the one who breaks me, Leonardo."

A flicker. That name again. Not Lucivar. Leonardo.

His jaw clenched. Shadows danced at his fingertips, twitching like restless spirits. "I told you. That name—"

"Is the only piece of you that still remembers what it means to feel," she interrupted, stepping closer. "Don't push him away just to protect me."

He didn't move. Not when she was inches from him. Not when her breath trembled with every word she spoke.

"I can handle your darkness," she said. "But I don't know if I can survive your silence."

For a moment, the air crackled with something more dangerous than rage—vulnerability. His eyes searched hers, wild, burning, aching with centuries of restraint. "You don't understand what I've done, Liana. What I am. You think this is a love story. It's a curse. And you're chained to it."

"I know," she replied, voice breaking, eyes shining. "But maybe I'm tired of running from curses. Maybe I want to rewrite mine."

Leonardo closed the distance. His hand lifted to her cheek, brushing away a strand of her hair. For once, his touch didn't sear or chill—it steadied.

"You would lose yourself," he murmured. "You already are."

"No," she whispered. "I'm finding who I'm meant to be. And it terrifies me."

His thumb traced her lower lip. "You should fear me."

"I do," she confessed, tears threatening. "But I fear losing you more."

That was the crack in his armor.

Leonardo pulled her into his arms—rough, desperate, like a man trying to hold on to something already slipping through his fingers. His lips found hers with a hunger born from centuries of starvation, a kiss that tasted of shadows and fire. She clung to him, trembling under the weight of everything unsaid, of everything forbidden.

When they parted, their foreheads touched, breaths mingling.

"I don't know how to let you in without destroying you," he rasped.

"Then destroy me," she said. "But let me choose it."

His eyes closed for a long moment. "The chains that bind us… they aren't forged from magic. They're made of choices we can't undo."

"Then make new ones with me," she pleaded.

Silence.

Then slowly, carefully, he pulled away and took her hand. "Come. There's something you must see."

She followed him through a narrow stone corridor hidden behind a tapestry—one she hadn't noticed before. It led downward, deeper into the heart of the mansion. As they descended, the temperature dropped, but the walls pulsed with eerie life, veins of obsidian glowing like fire beneath skin.

Finally, they arrived at an ancient chamber. In its center stood a pedestal—on it, a silver chain glowing faintly blue, ethereal and humming with power.

"What is it?" she whispered.

Leonardo stepped beside her. "The original bond. The first soul I ever chained. The first time I broke heaven's law. This chain is older than kingdoms. And it binds not just life—but fate."

Liana stepped closer, heart pounding. "And whose soul does it belong to?"

He looked at her with grief, awe, and sorrow. "Yours."

Her knees weakened. "What…?"

"When I found you in another life… you were dying. And I—" he broke off, pain tightening his throat. "I chained your soul to the mortal world. I couldn't let you go. I've been finding you in every lifetime since."

Her breath caught. "And this life?"

"This time, I was supposed to stay away. But you… you always find your way back."

Tears welled in her eyes. "That's why it hurts. Why I see death. Why I feel it."

"Yes," he said softly. "Because part of you has always lived in the dark with me."

Liana stepped toward the chain, hand hovering above it. "Then break it."

Leonardo stiffened. "You don't know what you're asking."

"If we're going to fall in love," she said, voice trembling but sure, "we do it freely. No chains. No fate. No past lives."

He closed the distance behind her. "If I break it… we may forget. Everything."

"Then we fall again," she whispered, placing her hand over the chain. "Let's fall like it's the first time."

And in that moment, with trembling hands and aching hearts, Leonardo touched the chain beside her—and it shattered into light.