His Goddess Of Temptation

Chapter Seven: The son of the devil

Deerah’s POV

The news hit faster than the bullet that killed him.

Sir Fred was dead.

By my hand.

And just like that, the empire he built on fear began to crack.

Every ally turned predator. Every loyal soldier picked a side.

Fred’s death wasn’t the end of the war — it was the spark that lit it.

The city changed overnight. Streets that once bowed to his power now drowned in chaos.

And me? I was the ghost they were all hunting.

⸻

The safehouse was cold, silent except for the sound of Alfred pacing.

Blood still stained his shirt — Fred’s blood.

He hadn’t spoken a word since we ran.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my shaking hands.

Every time I blinked, I saw Fred’s eyes right before I pulled the trigger.

Not angry. Not scared. Just… proud.

Like he wanted me to do it.

“What if this was his plan?” I muttered.

Alfred stopped. “What?”

“What if Fred wanted this — to die by my hand? To make me the target?”

He looked at me, silent, then turned away. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Blame yourself for killing a monster.” His voice was hard, low. “He got what he deserved.”

Maybe.

But something in his tone felt strange — like grief hiding under rage.

I stood. “Alfred, look at me.”

He didn’t.

“Tell me what you’re not saying.”

He finally turned, and the look in his eyes sent a chill through me.

“He wasn’t just my enemy, Deerah,” he said slowly. “He was my father.”

The air left my lungs.

“What?”

“Fred Manson. Fred Rossi. Fred whatever name he wore that week — he built empires under different names, ruled both sides of every war. My father… your master.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Funny, isn’t it? We were both raised by the same devil.”

I stepped back, my mind spinning.

“No… that’s not possible.”

“It is. My mother tried to escape him. That’s why he killed her. And that’s why my father — Manson — took me and raised me as his own. To protect me from the truth.”

The room tilted.

My pulse throbbed in my ears.

“So what does that make us?” I whispered.

“Two people who should hate each other,” he said.

He stepped closer. “But can’t.”

The words hung heavy between us.

He reached out, brushing his fingers along my jaw, and I didn’t move.

Every part of me screamed to pull away — this was wrong, twisted, tragic — but I couldn’t.

Because love never asks for permission.

His lips met mine, soft at first, then desperate, like he was trying to erase every lie we were born into.

For a moment, the world disappeared.

No Fred. No betrayal. Just us.

When he pulled away, he whispered against my skin, “They’ll come for us now. Manson’s men. Fred’s men. Everyone.”

“Then let them come,” I said. “We’ve survived worse.”

He smiled faintly. “You really are his daughter.”

“No,” I said. “I’m my own.”

⸻

Emi’s POV

Pain.

That’s all I knew when I woke up.

The wound in my chest burned, but the pain in my heart was worse.

She was gone. Deerah.

The only person I’d ever bleed for.

I tried to stand, but chains rattled at my wrists.

Basement. Concrete walls. A shadow moving in the dark.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” a voice said. Deep. Cold. Familiar.

Manson.

“Where is she?” I asked through gritted teeth.

He smirked. “Running. Hiding. But she won’t get far.”

“Don’t touch her—”

“Touch her?” He laughed. “My dear boy, I won’t have to. She’s already destroyed herself.”

He crouched beside me. “Fred’s dead. His empire is burning. And my son… my precious Alfred… is tangled in her web. She’s poison, Emi. Just like the man who raised her.”

I spat blood and glared. “You don’t know her.”

“I know enough,” he said, standing. “And you — you’re going to help me end her.”

I froze. “Never.”

He smiled. “You’ll change your mind once you learn the truth.”

He leaned closer, whispering into my ear:

“Deerah wasn’t adopted. She’s Fred’s real daughter. Born of his affair. And that means she’s your sister.”

My blood turned to ice.

“No,” I said, voice trembling.

“Yes,” Manson hissed. “And Alfred — the man you call your enemy — he’s your blood too. You were all part of Fred’s grand design. His twisted little dynasty.”

He walked away, leaving the chains cold against my wrists.

For the first time, I didn’t know who I was fighting for anymore.

Or who I loved.

Or who I was supposed to hate.

All I knew was this —

When blood and love mix, the war never ends.

⸻

To Be Continued…

💀 Next Chapter — “The Devil’s Legacy.”