Preston Whitley was the man the Devil ran from. D'yavol Smerti, that's what the Bratva called me. I had other names. To the Italians I was the Ghost. The Cartel, The Shadow. For others I was simply the solution to a problem. But for her, I was so much more. Marnie Dupire made a mistake when she confronted me in Chase's tattoo parlor, but she fucked up when she piqued my interest. It should've all come to an end two years ago with a bullet and foil flower. Instead I ended up following her, wondering what else she was hiding. Oh and my Little Bird was hiding a lot. She claimed that I was a dangerous, cold and uncaring monster, and maybe she was right? But I knew who the quiet little church girl really was. I'd not only seen the beast lurking inside her, I wanted to play with it. The only thing more terrifying then a sociopath's devotion... Was when it turned into love. Don't draw attention to yourself, that was the motto I lived by. Until Preston Whitley set his sights on me. He had no idea who he was messing with. The greatest trick the devil played was convincing the world he didn't exist. But I saw him. I saw them all. So if Preston wanted to play this game with me, fine. There was a saying in chess, a knight on the rim is grim. I'd move my queen and wait for The Order of Ravens and Wolves knight to attack. Before he knew what was happening, I'd have led him into checkmate. One step closer to my ultimate goal. The King of Kings himself. Louis Kessler. And they all came tumbling down.