Marked By The Devil E-Book

Jeff Miller

• Herausgeber: Jeff Miller
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Marked by the Devil by Jeff Miller is a chilling, high-stakes thriller that will keep you guessing until the very last page.
Celeste has spent her entire life marked by a mysterious symbol, one that links her to a powerful and dangerous cult. But after a daring escape, she finds herself pursued by the very people who once controlled her. The last person she ever wanted to cross paths with? Luc, a man from her past whose dark role in her life haunts her still.
When their paths collide again, both must confront the scars of their shared history, and the secrets that have remained buried for years. What does the mark on Celeste's skin really mean? And who can she trust when betrayal runs deeper than she ever imagined?
Marked by the Devil is a dark and suspenseful journey into the world of manipulation, survival, and the search for freedom. With danger lurking at every turn and an unforgettable cast of characters, this story will leave you questioning everything you think you know.
Get ready for a twist-filled ride where nothing—and no one—is ever as it seems.
 

Leseprobe

Prologue – The Mark

The room smelled of burning herbs, candle wax, and something sharper—like blood just beneath the surface.

Thirteen-year-old Celeste Ashford knelt at the center of the stone floor, her hands trembling in her lap. Her white linen robe, soaked from purification rites, clung to her thin frame. Around her, robed figures chanted in low, guttural rhythms. The words weren’t English. They were older, twisted from ancient scriptures, and designed to erase the self.

High above her, golden symbols shimmered on the ceiling—The Covenant’s sacred markings. Celeste used to stare at them as a child, wondering what they meant. Now she was told not to question. Only to obey.

From the shadows beyond the circle of candlelight, Lucian Vex stood—silent, still, and cloaked in black. He was twenty, a hardened figure already called The Enforcer, with eyes that never blinked and hands trained to break necks without sound. The others feared him.

But not Celeste.

She didn’t know him—not yet—but she had seen the hesitation in his eyes once, long ago, when another child was taken away screaming. He hadn’t looked away then. And he didn’t look away now.

“Bring the girl forward,” came Prophet Solomon’s voice, rich and cruel, echoing off the stone.

Celeste was guided by two silent Sisters to the altar slab. Her robe slipped from her shoulders as she lay face down on the cold stone, her back exposed. Her breath hitched.

“You should be honored,” Solomon said, kneeling beside her. His robes shimmered gold and crimson. His breath reeked of incense and iron. “You are chosen, Celeste. The stars whispered your name. This mark… is not punishment. It is prophecy. You will bring the fire. And from that fire—rebirth.”

Lucian clenched his fists behind the veil of shadows.

The Prophet picked up a long needle dipped in black ink. Beside it, a dagger gleamed. “Hold her still,” he commanded.

Two Sisters pressed Celeste’s arms down as the first puncture tore into her skin. She didn’t scream. Not yet.

The pain came in waves—burning, deep, permanent. The symbol etched into her spine wasn’t a simple mark. It was a maze. A series of loops and runes designed to mean nothing to outsiders—but everything to the faithful. It was obedience. It was ownership.

With every stroke, Lucian’s gut twisted. He had carried out dozens of rites. He had branded deserters, broken oath-breakers. But this… this was a child. Her bones still delicate. Her eyes too bright.

Celeste whimpered once, and Lucian flinched. She sounds like my sister did, before the fever took her…

When the Prophet finished, he placed a bloody hand on Celeste’s shoulder.

“It is done,” he whispered into her ear. “You are now mine. A vessel. A weapon. One day you will understand—and kneel in gratitude.”

The crowd chanted again, louder this time. “The Mark! The Fire! The Bride!”

Lucian turned away before the robe was pulled back over her raw skin. He couldn’t watch anymore. Not because he was weak—but because something in him had cracked. And once cracks appear, things don’t stay whole.

Not long after, he would disappear. Fake his death. Run.

But that night, in the cold belly of the Covenant’s temple, he saw the girl who would haunt his every step. The one he couldn’t protect. The one he would risk it all to save.

The marked girl.

The fire-bringer.

Celeste.

Chapter 1: Blood in the River

The wind cut like blades as Celeste ran barefoot through the forest, moonlight flashing between skeletal branches. Her lungs burned. Her legs trembled. Every breath tasted like smoke and desperation.

Behind her—shouts, the pounding of boots, and the distant bark of dogs. They had found her trail. Again.

She didn’t stop.

The robe they made her wear—thin, ceremonial, useless against the cold—was now soaked in sweat and blood. A jagged cut above her thigh kept tearing wider, but she pushed through the pain. Pain meant she was still alive. Still free.

Just reach the river.

The trees thinned, and suddenly the roar of water filled her ears. The river. Swollen from spring rains. Fast, black, and freezing.

She staggered to the edge and hesitated.

They had always said the river would kill you if you tried to cross. “The current will take you,” they warned. “And even if you survive, the outside world will eat you alive.”

Celeste looked back.

Torchlight flickered behind the trees. Closer now. Too close.

She stepped into the water. It’s now or never.

The cold was instant, savage. Her breath seized in her chest. She took one step, then another, and the current slammed into her like a wall. It yanked at her legs, pulling her downstream.

Celeste kicked. Fought. Her head went under. Darkness swallowed her.

But she surfaced again—gasping—dragged halfway across. Something sharp scraped her ribs. A rock. She grabbed hold, pulled, screamed. Her arms were useless. She couldn’t feel her fingers. But somehow, she climbed.

She collapsed on the far bank, coughing up water, body trembling violently. Somewhere upstream, a voice shouted. “Check the water!”

Celeste rolled into the tall grass and didn’t move.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours.

By the time she opened her eyes again, the stars had shifted. The night was still dark, but quieter now. The woods behind her remained silent.

They think I drowned.

Good.

She crawled until she could stand. Her body ached. Blood caked her side. But there, just over the next ridge, lights glimmered—soft, artificial, and impossibly warm. A small town.

The outside world.

It looked nothing like the Prophet had described.

No fire. No plague. Just… distant laughter. A neon sign buzzing outside a diner. A truck engine rumbling somewhere down the road.

Celeste stepped onto the cracked asphalt with bare, bleeding feet and whispered the only word she remembered her mother saying before she disappeared:

“Freedom.”

And then she fainted.

Chapter 2: The Tattoo Shop

The bell above the bar door jingled as Celeste stepped inside, soaked to the bone, wrapped in a stranger’s flannel jacket she'd found drying on a fence. Her skin was pale, lips cracked, the mark on her back still burning beneath layers of wet fabric.

She didn’t belong here. The Rust Fang bar reeked of beer, motor oil, and forgotten dreams. Neon lights buzzed overhead. A jukebox played something slow and bluesy. Locals slouched over whiskey, their eyes darting to her before quickly looking away. Small towns didn’t ask questions—especially about girls who looked half-dead.

Behind the counter, a red-haired woman with a septum ring raised an eyebrow. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Celeste opened her mouth but her voice came out broken. “Need… a bathroom.”

The woman pointed silently to the back. Celeste shuffled down the hallway, the wood floor creaking under each step.

At the end of the hall, a black door stood half-open. She passed it—then stopped. Tattoo Shop was painted in faded red across the top. A buzzing sound came from inside.

She peeked in.

And saw him.

Luc Vex.

He sat on a stool, hunched over a man’s arm, ink needle in hand. His head was shaved close. A jagged scar curved along his jawline. Tattoos covered both arms—wolves, sigils, thorns. His black shirt stretched tight over lean muscle. He moved with control. Precision.

Celeste’s stomach twisted. Something about him…

He glanced up.

Their eyes locked.

And her legs nearly gave out.

For a moment, Luc didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then he stood—slowly, like a storm rising.

“Shop’s closed,” he said, voice low, gravelly.

“I—” Celeste’s voice trembled. “I wasn’t trying to… I didn’t mean to—”

“Sit,” he interrupted, already stepping toward her.

She backed up. Her instincts screamed run. But her knees buckled instead. He caught her before she hit the floor.

Up close, his eyes weren’t cold like the Prophet’s had been. They were dark, yes, but layered—tired, haunted, and something else. Recognition.

He looked at her like a ghost had walked in.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s you.”

Celeste blinked. “Do I… know you?”

Luc didn’t answer right away. He carried her gently to the padded bench and knelt beside her.

“You don’t remember me,” he said. Not a question.

“No,” she whispered. “Should I?”

His jaw tightened. He studied her face like he was searching for pieces of a puzzle he’d spent years trying to forget.

“You were thirteen. Temple chamber. They tattooed you and called it a blessing.”

Her eyes widened. “You were there.”

“I was always there.” He looked away. “Until I wasn’t.”

The silence between them stretched like a wound.

Then he added, “You still have the mark?”

She nodded slowly. “It burns sometimes. Like it’s alive.”

Luc stood. Grabbed gloves. “Let me see it.”

She hesitated, then turned around, lifting the back of the flannel.

Luc’s breath caught. The black symbol—twisted and ancient—was etched into her spine like it had been carved into his memory.

“It’s not just ink,” he said. “It’s a sigil. One of the old ones. The Prophet knew exactly what he was doing.”

Celeste turned to face him. “What does it mean?”

Luc’s voice dropped.

“It means you’re not just hunted anymore, Celeste. You’re claimed. And if I found you, they will too.”