Angela Liegi's gambling house

ANGELA LIEGI'S CASINO – THE GAMBLING SCENE

The casino was a blur of neon and greed, the clink of chips and the hushed whispers of **** men filling the air.

Angela Liegi—queen of Torino's underworld—watched from her private balcony, her sharp eyes tracking the newcomer at the high-stakes table.

Kevin Ngobe.

Or at least, that's what he looked like.

Stefano leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the stack of 500-euro bills as he surveyed the table.

"All in," he purred, his voice dripping with confidence as he pushed the entire 20,000 euros into the pot.

The dealer blinked.

The players gasped.

And Angela Liegi smiled.

"Let's play," Stefano murmured, his incubus power coiling around the table like a living thing.

And as the cards flipped, as the chips clattered, as the room held its breath—

Stefano knew.

This was just the beginning.

THE GAMBLER'S CALM – A DEMON'S RECKONING

The roulette wheel spun, a hypnotic whirl of black and red, the ivory ball clicking against silver dividers in a rhythm that mimicked Cecilia’s pounding heart. She sat perched on the edge of her velvet stool, her small fingers clutching Stefano’s—no, Kevin’s—sleeve, her grey eyes wide as the dealer slid another stack of 500-euro notes away from them.

"Black 17," the croupier announced, his voice smooth as aged whiskey.

Stefano had bet on red.

Again.

And lost.

Again.

"Fuck," Cecilia whispered, her lips trembling. "That’s—that’s everything, Kevin."

Stefano merely chuckled, his borrowed face relaxed, his dark eyes gleaming with something far deeper than amusement. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his muscular arms behind his head, the fabric of his tailored suit straining against his shoulders. The Osiris ring on his left hand pulsed faintly, drinking in the frustration, the greed, the cheating radiating off the other players.

"Relax, piccola," he murmured, his thumb brushing Cecilia’s knuckles. "Money’s just paper."

Across the table, a man in a pinstripe suit—Luciano Moretti, one of Kasimir’s lieutenants—smirked as he raked in his winnings. His mind was an open book to Stefano, a filthy scroll of loaded dice, marked cards, and whispered signals to the dealers.

Cheating.

All of them.

And Stefano let them.

Because every loss, every smirk, every triumphant glance exchanged between Angela’s men was another thread in the web he was weaving.

His incubus powers stretched, tendrils of dark energy slithering beneath the table, coiling around ankles, slipping into pockets, reading secrets like a lover’s whisper.

"Another round?" Luciano taunted, his voice slick with false sympathy. "Or are you done, straniero?"

Stefano grinned, slow and dangerous. "Why not?" He reached into his jacket—empty now, every last euro gone—and shrugged. "Ah. Seems I’m out."

Laughter rippled through the high-rollers’ section. Cecilia’s face burned with humiliation, but Stefano merely stood, straightening his cuffs with a calm that bordered on eerie.

"Come, tesoro," he murmured, guiding Cecilia up. "Let’s find a drink."

THE BAR – WHISPERS AND WINE

Cecilia’s nails dug into Stefano’s arm as he led the slender vixen to the mahogany bar, her soft contralto a hissed whisper. "T-They fucking robbed you Kevin! How are you so calm?"

Stefano smirked, flagging the bartender. "Two glasses of your best Amarone." He turned to Cecilia, his free hand sliding up her thigh beneath her skirt, his fingers teasing the lace of her panties. "Because, piccola, I didn’t come here to win money."

Her breath hitched. "T-then what—?"

His fingers dipped lower, stroking his horny girlfriend's damp folds through the fabric. "Information."

And then—

Images flooded the incubus' mind.

Luciano’s memories: a warehouse in Aurora, steel cages, sobbing women.

Angela’s ignorance—her horror when she’d discovered the truth.

Kasimir’s heir, Dario Moretti, laughing as he counted his human merchandise.

Stefano’s fat cock stirred against his slacks.

Oh, this would be fun.

THE AFTERMATH – A DEMON’S REWARD

Back in their suite, Stefano pushed Cecilia onto the bed, his Kevin disguise melting away to reveal Osiris Champion real form—dark purple skin, crimson eyes, thick black horns curling from his temples.

"This is my true nature... A prowler in the night."

BREED

Osiris fallen divinity whispered in protest.

"A breeding... Prowler? Whatever makes you sleep better."

Cecilia moaned, the young woman's grey eyes glazing with lust. "K-Kevin—!"

He yanked her dress open, buttons scattering across the floor, his mouth claiming the Italian beauty's small breasts as his fingers teased her clit.

"You watched me lose everything tonight," he growled, his voice vibrating with dark power. "Did it excite you?"

Cecilia nodded, whimpering as his claws raked down her stomach.

"Good girl."

He flipped the slender minx onto her knees, the sex demon's monstrous cock slapping against her pale ass before plunging inside her dripping cunt in one brutal thrust.

"OHMYGOD YESSS!! H-Harder!"

The Italian beauty's erotic contralto was raw from screaming, her nails clawing the sheets as he bred her like an animal, his hips pounding into her tiny frame with possessive fury.

"T-tonight was just the start," he snarled, his incubus power flaring as the middle-aged man's tainted seed flooded her womb. "Soon..."

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

"We burn Kasimir’s empire to the ground."