Soulless Devil

Soulless Devil Sons of Valentino Book 3 Kylie Kent For Oliva Bennett I can’t wait to watch you grow up and find a Romeo of your very own XOXO Contents Please Stalk Me Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Livvy Epilogue Epilogue Epilogue Epilogue Also by Kylie Kent Acknowledgments About Kylie Kent Copyright ©2023 by Kylie Kent Ebook ISBN: 978-1-922816-41-2 Paperback ISBN: 978-1-922816-62-7 Cover illustration by Sammi Bee Designs Editing services provided by Kat Pagan – https://www.facebook.com/PaganProofreading This book contains scenes of non-consensual and consensual sexual acts, profanity, and violence. If any of these are triggers for you, you should consider skipping this read. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Please Stalk Me Come and check out my website and join my mailing list to stay up to date and gain access to bonus materials. Website & Newsletter: https://www.kyliekent.com/ If you want early access to everything, including bonus scenes, exclusive covers and more, come and join my Patreon Group Kylie Kent Patreon Want to be involved in discussions and have access to tons of give-aways? Join my readers group on Facebook Kylie’s Steam Room Facebook: @kyliekent2020 Instagram Follow: @author_kylie_kent_ Chapter One She’s here again. Sitting in the same spot. The desk piled high with open books as she relentlessly writes handwritten notes on a notepad. It’s been the same for the last seven nights in a row. For hours at a time, she has people coming and going from her table. She’s tutoring them. I watch her from my little darkened corner on the top floor, looking down through the glass wall to her table beneath me. I’m pissed that I can’t seem to shake this feeling. I don’t even know what to call it. When I saw her seven nights ago, I thought I was having a heart attack. Pain ripped through my chest. The longer I watched her, the more that pain seemed to morph into a foreign sensation. The overwhelming need to protect her. To make sure she’s safe. To keep her. Which is a ridiculous fucking thought. I don’t keep people. Especially girls. I have my family, my mom, dad, brothers. I don’t want anyone else in my life. I don’t need anyone else to watch over to ensure they don’t end up six feet under. I don’t need more funerals to attend. This life sees enough death without adding girls like… that to the mix. I’ve never even spoken to her. I know her name is Olivia, and I’ve heard people call her Livvy. And I know she’s fucking smart, probably smarter than me. Which is saying something because I’ve never met anyone smarter than me. Sounds conceited but it’s not. It’s just the truth. A fact. And you can’t argue facts. They aren’t biased. How do I know she’s so fucking smart? I may have planted a listening device under her table. How the fuck else was I going to learn shit about her? It’s Saturday night. I should be out partying it up with my twin brother. Luca’s the yin to my yang and our school’s star quarterback. Unless you’re family, you probably wouldn’t know who’s who when we’re in the same room. The only identifiable difference is the ink under our shirts. Livvy yawns and stretches her arms above her head. I need to either get out of here or man up and talk to her. I’ve never found it hard to approach girls. Usually, I can just point and curl my finger, call them over to me. Again, not conceited when it’s been proven time and time again and the outcomes are always in my favor. However, something tells me that’s not going to work for Little Miss Prim-and-Proper down there. I know I should walk away. It’s the right thing to do. She wears fucking cardigans and skirts down to her knees. Her strawberry blonde hair is always tied up in a mess, piled on top of her head, often with a pencil in it. I’ve never been good at doing the right thing, which is exactly why I find myself strolling out to the café and ordering her a caramel latte. Her drink of choice. Those listening devices are worth every cent. Just as I’m walking back into the library, my phone rings, blaring out “Hey Brother” from its speakers. “Shit, sorry.” I offer the librarian currently glaring at me a polite smile before stalking back outside and answering the call. “Luc, this better be important. I’m busy,” I tell him. “It is important. I need you to meet me at the gym. There’s a fight starting in twenty,” he says. We’ve been running our own little lucrative fighting club for the past six months. It started out as us simply organizing others to fight. But that got old really quick, and Luca stepped into the cage. We’ve all had intense lessons from our Uncle Bray, who was an undefeated underground fighter in his heyday. We’ve both also been trained in every form of combat you can think of. Our father, the current Don of the Valentino Crime Family, insisted we knew how to protect ourselves using our bare hands. That relying on guns, knives, was how people in our world