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THE DEVOUER OF ROSES

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"๐‡๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฏ๐ž ๐ฐ๐š๐ฌ ๐š ๐œ๐š๐ ๐ž-๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ซ๐š๐ฉ ๐ก๐ž๐ซ, ๐›๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ค๐ž๐ž๐ฉ ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐ฌ๐š๐Ÿ๐ž ๐ข๐ง ๐š ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐ฅ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ก๐š๐ ๐›๐ซ๐จ๐ค๐ž๐ง ๐ก๐ข๐ฆ."Zain Vierk was never meant to be this. The world had molded him into something he wasn't. He was born with the purest of hearts, an angel among men, but society's cruel hand twisted him, turning him into a villain. He was the embodiment of pain-betrayed by those he loved, cursed by the weight of the sins that weren't his to bear.In the eyes of the world, he was the most powerful mafia king-a ruthless, cold-hearted monster. No one knew the boy who had been cast aside, used as a pawn in games he never asked to play. The one who had felt the sting of betrayal at the hands of those he had trusted most.But beneath the mask of the psychopath, the sinner, the devil, Zain was still a child-someone who craved love, care, and affection. He longed for the things he had never been given, the things he was denied. He built walls so high to protect the shattered pieces of his heart, but there was one person who had slipped past them.Athira Bansal.She had been the only one to show him kindness when the world had shown him nothing but hate. The only one to care for him when everyone else abandoned him. She was the light in his darkness, the one who saw him for who he truly was. And for that, he would have given her the world.But when she disappeared, Zain's world crumbled. Without her, he was left to fend off the darkness alone. Now, years later, she reappears, but not in the way he had hoped. The woman he once adored has become a stranger-one who rejects him, turning away from the man he's become.This time, Zain will not let her go. He will make her his, no matter the cost. The world may call him a monster, but for Athira, he will become the devil she cannot resist.---pls read

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PROLOGUE: BLOODLINES
The summer air in the slums was stifling, thick with the smell of sweat and rust. Zain Veirk, just nine years old, sat on the dirt outside the tiny one-room shack he called home. His clothes were tattered, his face smeared with grime, but his eyes burned with the quiet defiance of a boy who had already learned life owed him nothing. "Zain, stay close," his mother called from inside. Her voice was weary, strained โ€” the voice of a woman fighting battles far too large for her shoulders. He didnโ€™t reply. Instead, he stared at the children playing in the distance. Their laughter seemed alien to him, a language he didnโ€™t understand. For Zain, survival didnโ€™t leave room for games. That was the moment everything changed. A sharp yell rang out as a boy ran past him, clutching a loaf of bread. Zain recognized him โ€” one of the street kids who dared to steal from the vendor near the train tracks. The vendor wasnโ€™t far behind, shouting and cursing as he gave chase. Zain turned to watch, a small part of him envying the boyโ€™s bravery. But when the boy tripped, his stolen prize tumbling into the dirt, Zainโ€™s heart clenched. Without thinking, Zain darted forward. "Hey! Over here!" he shouted, drawing the vendorโ€™s attention. He didnโ€™t think about what he was doing. All he knew was that he couldnโ€™t stand by and watch someone else suffer. But the vendor was faster than heโ€™d anticipated. When Zain tried to escape, his foot caught on a jagged piece of metal. Pain exploded in his leg, and he crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled around him, dark and terrifying. The vendor stopped, his anger melting into panic as he saw the injury. "Kid, youโ€™re bleeding bad," he muttered, his voice uncertain. By the time Zainโ€™s mother arrived, the world was already spinning.

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