Chapter 13: Black Angel and High Rise Devil
The night was silent, the moonlight casting long, jagged shadows across the sprawling city. The mansion of the Heidan family stood like an ancient monument to wealth and power, completely unaware of the bloodshed that was about to unfold. Inside, the family slept, the walls of their fortress meant to protect them now nothing more than a mockery of safety. For Black Angel and High Rise Devil, this was another conquest—another opportunity to dismantle the world’s illusion of control.
They had long since forsaken the notion of mercy or justice. Their own brand of twisted righteousness guided them, and in the quiet of the night, they moved like ghosts—predators stalking their prey.
Afton Heidan, the patriarch of the family, had been running a late-night business meeting, and his wife, Marina, waited anxiously for his return. She sat in the lavish, velvet-lined chairs of the mansion’s living room, her thoughts consumed by the lingering fear that had become her constant companion. She had been hearing things, noises she couldn't quite explain, but before she could gather her thoughts, it was too late.
The door to her bedroom burst open with such force that the frame cracked, and Black Angel’s shadow filled the doorway. Marina froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes met his, knowing in an instant that there was no escape. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could escape, Black Angel was upon her, his large, dark hand closing around her throat in a vice-like grip. The strength in his fingers was crushing—impossibly powerful.
She struggled in vain, clawing at his hand, but his grip only tightened. His eyes, cold and calculating, stared down at her, emotionless as he squeezed the life from her. Her veins began to pop as her blood supply was cut off, her face turning an unnatural shade of purple. Marina’s body jerked, her muscles spasming in a final, futile attempt for escape. The light in her eyes dimmed, and within seconds, she was gone.
Black Angel let her body fall to the floor like a ragdoll, leaving her lying in a pool of her own blood. He didn’t spare her a second glance. His job was done.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Matthew Heidan, the eldest son, had been roused by the sounds of his mother’s death. He grabbed the nearest weapon—a hunting knife he kept by his bedside—and rushed into the hallway. His pulse quickened, his mind racing to understand what was happening. He wasn’t a coward, not like his father had been. He was ready to protect his family, even if it meant giving his life.
But the High Rise Devil was already there, waiting.
A slow, cruel smile spread across the Devil’s face as Matthew approached, knife raised. "You think you can stop me?" The Devil’s voice was low, mocking. Matthew’s grip tightened on the hilt of the knife, his mind swirling with anger and fear.
He lunged at the High Rise Devil, hoping to land a fatal blow, but the Devil was faster. With a simple twist of his wrist, he disarmed Matthew, sending the blade spinning across the marble floor. Before Matthew could process what had happened, the Devil was on him.
Matthew cried out, but his scream was cut short as the High Rise Devil’s cold, cruel hands grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to his knees. The boy’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain shooting up his arm like fire.
“Please,” Matthew begged, his voice weak, “Don’t kill me.”
The High Rise Devil chuckled darkly, enjoying the power he had over the boy. With a sudden, sharp movement, he plunged a knife into Matthew’s side, cutting through muscle and sinew. Matthew’s scream was drowned by the sickening sound of the blade entering his flesh. Blood began to spill from the wound, gushing out in thick streams, drenching his clothes and pooling on the floor beneath him. Matthew’s vision blurred as the life drained out of him, his body shaking in violent spasms.
The High Rise Devil stepped back, admiring his work as the blood poured from Matthew’s body. The boy's mouth moved, but no words escaped. His final breath was a faint rasp, and then his body went still.
Down the hall, Sophie Heidan, the youngest of the family, had heard everything. The house was in chaos, and she was terrified. She huddled in her room, her small body trembling with fear, but no one was coming to save her. When she heard footsteps nearing her door, she knew it was too late.
Desperate, she moved toward the window, trying to escape, but the Black Angel was already there. He was a force of nature, and there was nowhere for her to run. His eyes glinted with cold malice as he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back into the room. Sophie screamed, her voice high-pitched and frantic, but it didn’t matter. She was already dead.
“Please, please,” she begged, her hands trembling as she tried to push him away. But the Black Angel was unyielding. He smiled coldly, his face devoid of emotion. With one swift motion, he drew a blade from his belt, the metal glinting in the dim light. Sophie’s eyes widened with horror as she realized what was about to happen. She tried to struggle, but the Black Angel’s hand held her in place with a force that was unbreakable.
The blade was sharp, cutting through her throat in a single, clean swipe. Sophie’s scream was muffled by the gurgling blood as it poured from her neck. Her hands flew to her throat, but it was too late. The life drained from her eyes as she collapsed, her body falling limp to the floor in a crimson heap.
With the Heidan family now reduced to nothing more than lifeless corpses, Black Angel and High Rise Devil moved through the mansion like phantoms, leaving behind a trail of destruction. They had killed with clinical precision, ensuring no one had escaped. The family’s legacy—its power, its wealth—meant nothing in the face of their cruelty.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
As the two killers stood over the bodies of the Heidan family, they exchanged a look of satisfaction. This was more than a massacre. It was a message—a demonstration of their absolute power. The Heidans had lived in their ivory tower, believing they were untouchable, but now they were nothing.
The High Rise Devil laughed softly, his gaze sweeping over the blood-soaked scene. “They were nothing but pawns, Black Angel,” he said with dark amusement. “Just like everyone else.”
Black Angel didn’t respond. His gaze was cold and unwavering, his expression impassive. The Heidan family was no more. Their empire had crumbled under the weight of their arrogance.
As the two killers made their exit, they didn’t look back. The mansion behind them burned, the flames licking at the night sky, a fitting end to the Heidan family’s reign. The smoke curled up into the heavens, a reminder of the chaos they had wrought.
For Black Angel and High Rise Devil, this was just another step in their endless war against the world. They had brought the Heidans to their knees, but this was only the beginning. They would continue their crusade—dismantling the world’s systems of power, one family at a time. No one was safe.
And as they disappeared into the night, they knew this: there would be no end to their reign. The world was theirs for the taking, and they would stop at nothing to claim it.
The Heidan family had fallen. The world would soon follow.
The Wrath of the Fallen
The flames from the Heidan mansion had long since faded into the night, leaving behind only the charred remains of a once-proud dynasty. The streets outside were eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only came after great violence. The city had not yet realized the scope of what had transpired, but in time, it would. Black Angel and High Rise Devil knew this all too well. This was only the first domino in their grand design.
As they moved through the shadows, their figures melded with the darkness, each step deliberate and calculated. They didn’t need to speak to understand the unspoken bond between them. Their partnership was forged in blood—a symbiotic relationship where each of their actions amplified the other’s. One was the storm, and the other, the hand that guided it.
“Do you think they'll come for us?” High Rise Devil asked, his voice low, tinged with amusement. His smirk was dangerous, the kind that never quite reached his eyes.
Black Angel’s expression remained unreadable as always, his features carved from stone. He didn’t respond at first, his mind running through the possibilities. He was already anticipating the moves of the city’s elite—the ones who would come, seeking to avenge the Heidans, unaware of the forces they were about to unleash upon themselves.
“There will be others,” Black Angel finally replied, his voice cold as the air around them. “But they will fall just like the Heidans.”
The High Rise Devil chuckled darkly, admiring the man who had once been his equal. Now, however, there was a palpable distance between them, one born from their differences, their ambitions, and the merciless journey they had walked together. Still, the Devil respected the Black Angel. There was power in him that even the Devil could not ignore. Their alliance was built on mutual understanding—each of them capable of great things, but together, they were unstoppable.
The night stretched on, and the two killers moved through the city’s underbelly like predators in search of their next victim. The skyline loomed in the distance, the glow of the city lights like a siren call for those who had the strength to wield power.
As they reached their destination, a quiet, upscale establishment in the heart of the city, High Rise Devil’s smirk faded into something more sinister. He had been informed by his network of spies that this was a place where the powerful gathered—a place where the city's elite and their dirty secrets were exchanged behind closed doors. It was the perfect location to begin their next strike.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension, the soft murmur of hushed conversations barely masking the undercurrent of fear that seeped through the walls. Those who were present had no idea that death had arrived in the form of two shadows moving within their midst. Black Angel and High Rise Devil moved with grace, their every step cloaked in silence, as though the world around them had ceased to exist. They were invisible to those around them, and yet they were the only things that mattered.
The first to fall was a powerful businessman named Victor Oren, a man who had made his fortune by exploiting the desperate and the vulnerable. He sat in a secluded booth, oblivious to the danger lurking just outside his line of sight. Black Angel’s approach was swift, a blur of motion as his hand clamped around Victor’s throat. The businessman’s eyes widened in shock, his body jerking in panic as Black Angel’s grip tightened.
“You’ve caused enough suffering,” Black Angel whispered in his ear, his voice cold and final. Victor’s struggles were futile, and within moments, his body went limp.
The room remained oblivious to the death unfolding in their midst, too wrapped up in their own ambitions to notice the predator among them. But as High Rise Devil made his move, the chaos began to spread.
High Rise Devil was an artist when it came to pain. He took his time, savoring the fear that rippled through the room as he cut down one figure after another. A whisper here, a blade there, and soon, bodies littered the floor, their blood staining the plush carpet. Screams filled the air, but they were cut short as quickly as they had begun.
The patrons scattered in panic, but they were trapped. No one escaped. The two killers were everywhere, their presence like a plague of locusts, destroying everything in their path. And just as quickly as it had started, the massacre ended. The room fell silent once again, the only sound the heavy, ragged breathing of those few who had survived.
Black Angel and High Rise Devil stood amidst the carnage, their eyes cold, their faces unreadable. They had done what they had set out to do. This wasn’t just about vengeance; it was about sending a message. The city’s elite were no longer safe. They could hide behind their wealth and power, but in the end, they were just as vulnerable as anyone else.
As they made their exit, stepping over the fallen bodies of the city’s most powerful, Black Angel glanced at High Rise Devil. “The world is not as it seems,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s all a game—a game they think they control.”
“And we’re the ones who get to flip the board over,” High Rise Devil replied with a wicked grin. “One by one.”
The city’s skyline stretched out before them, a monument to greed, corruption, and power. It was a world of illusion, one that the Heidans had built for themselves and others like them. But now, it was crumbling. They had begun the dismantling, and there was no turning back.
As they disappeared into the night, the winds of change began to stir. The city, once so confident in its security, was now ripe for the taking. The Black Angel and High Rise Devil were more than just killers; they were the harbingers of a new order—one built on fear, destruction, and chaos.
The world had been asleep for too long, and now, it was time to wake it up.