Devil’s Due
Volume I of The Stories After By Britt Wolfe
Inspirde By: Scream
For thirty years, the world has believed that Seb Mercer was a bloodthirsty killer—a willing accomplice to Brandon Hale, the mastermind behind the infamous Red Devil murders that shocked a nation and the world. But now, fresh out of prison and finally ready to tell his side of the story, Seb is revealing the truth. And according to him? He never killed anyone.
In his explosive tell-all memoir, Devil’s Due, Seb claims he wasn’t a sadistic killer, but a stupid kid who got in too deep. The night everything happened, Brandon showed up—desperate, paranoid—saying he had done something terrible, something that couldn’t be undone. He needed Seb’s help to finish what he started. Caught up in the idea of being part of something legendary, Seb agreed. But by the time the night was over, he was the one who paid the price.
Now, Devil’s Due has become a true crime phenomenon. The book has reignited public obsession with the Fallside Massacre, a crime spree defined by a chilling signature: a killer in a blood-red devil mask. But as Seb’s book gains momentum, a new Red Devil emerges—one who isn’t just targeting Seb, but anyone connected to his past. The attacks are brutal, personal, and methodical. As if someone is sending a message: Some stories were never meant to be told.
As the body count rises, Sierra Hart, the survivor who escaped Brandon and Shane all those years ago, is pulled back into a nightmare she thought she’d finally outrun. Drawn into a deadly game that feels all too familiar, Sierra realizes that the past isn’t done with her yet.
Meanwhile, Seb must confront the truth he’s been running from:
Brandon Hale had secrets he never shared.
The real reason the Red Devil murders happened that night wasn’t what anyone believed.
And this time, the truth won’t just rewrite history.
It might get them all killed.
Excerpt From Devil’s Due by Britt Wolfe
The television screen cast a flickering glow across the darkened room. The figure in the chair sat still, unmoving, eyes locked on the image of Lydia Quinn as she smiled for the camera. Fingers tapped once, twice, against the armrest. The voice on the television droned on, but the figure wasn't listening to the words. Not really. The sight of him—of Seb Mercer, his image displayed on the screen—was enough to ignite something sharp and hot beneath the skin.
Alive. Talking. Telling things that sounded like truths.
The figure’s breath quickened. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Seb was supposed to be dead.
That night, all those years ago, the figure had been sure Sierra Hart had finished the job. Everyone thought so. She wasn’t called a final girl for nothing. Stabbed multiple times by his partner, Brandon Hale, in their twisted attempt to stage the perfect finale. Then Sierra fought back—fought him—and ended it with a final, brutal blow: dropping a heavy television set onto his head.
The figure remembered the reports. The details of how a teenager who should have died that night managed to claw his way back.
The stab wounds had been severe—but not fatal. The knife missed all major arteries and vital organs. Deep muscle lacerations, yes. Blood loss, certainly. But with quick medical intervention—pressure applied, emergency transfusions—Seb had lived.
The television blow should have been fatal. A CRT television, dropped from that height, weighed enough to cause severe trauma. But Seb had been lucky. The impact fractured his orbital bone, shattering the socket around his left eye. The eye couldn’t be saved. Surgeons later replaced it with a prosthetic. His skull sustained fractures, but the blow landed off-centre, avoiding the brainstem and critical arteries.
The electrocution? Minor burns. The glass tube in the television discharged electricity, but not enough to kill him—only enough to burn his skin and disorient him. He’d been unconscious, presumed dead.
But Seb had survived. Scarred. Disfigured. Changed.
