The Damned Path: Chronicles of Damien

The room was dead silent, except for the low hum of my laptop. Victor's name glared at me from the screen, a file full of transactions, messages, and meetings—all tying him directly to Kross.

Ghost leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable expression he always wore when things got complicated. "So," he finally said, "your friend has been playing both sides all along."

I didn't say anything. Not right away. My mind was racing, piecing together every interaction, every deal Victor had offered me. All of it, a lie.

Leo looked between us, still trying to catch up. "But... wasn't Victor helping us? Giving us information about Kross?"

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle in my chest. "Yeah," I said. "He was helping—just enough to keep me close. To keep me useful. But all along, he was feeding Kross everything I did."

Leo's face fell. "So he's been setting you up?"

"Setting us up," I corrected. "He wanted me to take out Kross's enemies. Clear the board so Kross could take over everything without lifting a finger." My jaw clenched. "And I walked right into it."

Ghost stood, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it with a flick of his wrist. "What do you wanna do?"

I looked up at him, my eyes hard. "We hit them both."

Ghost smirked. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Leo shifted in his seat. "But how? Kross is already coming for us, and now Victor's probably watching our every move."

"Which is why," I said, leaning forward, "we need to make a move they don't expect."

Ghost raised an eyebrow. "You got something in mind?"

I pulled up another file on the laptop—one Ghost had snagged from the nightclub. "This," I said, pointing at the screen. "Victor's next shipment. Weapons. Big enough to arm a small army. Kross's army."

Ghost's eyes gleamed. "So we steal it?"

"No," I said, a smile curling on my lips. "We take it and sell it—to Kross's rivals. Flood the streets with his own weapons. Turn everyone against him. Make Kross think Victor sold him out. And when they're both bleeding from the fallout, then we strike."

Ghost let out a low whistle. "Damn. You're colder than I thought."

I glanced at him. "You said this was war, right? Time to fight like it."

Leo was silent for a long moment. "You think it'll work?"

"It'll hurt them," I said. "And right now, that's what matters."

Later that night.

We sat in Ghost's car, parked in an empty lot overlooking the docks where Victor's shipment was scheduled to arrive. Fog rolled in off the water, thick and heavy, muting the glow of the city skyline behind us.

Ghost loaded his rifle, checking every piece of gear like it was just another job. "Timing's everything," he murmured. "Once they unload those crates, we hit fast and hard."

Leo sat in the back, fidgeting with a pistol Ghost had given him. His eyes were tense, but I could see the fire burning there too. He wasn't the same scared kid from a few weeks ago.

"You sure about this?" I asked, turning to him.

Leo looked up at me, steady now. "I want payback. Same as you."

I nodded once. "Good. Then let's make sure they feel it."

The docks. Midnight.

Victor's men moved like shadows, unloading crate after crate from a cargo ship. I could see the glint of weapons inside as they cracked open the first few boxes to inspect them—assault rifles, handguns, even explosives. Enough firepower to level the city block.

Ghost crouched beside me, peeking through his scope. "Three on the left, two by the truck, and one on lookout."

I smirked. "Not for long."

We moved fast. Ghost took out the lookout with a silenced shot, and I was already moving toward the truck. Leo followed close behind, a little hesitant, but keeping up.

The first man by the truck didn't even get a chance to react. I slammed him into the metal door, blade at his throat. "Wrong place, wrong time," I whispered before cutting him down.

Gunfire cracked behind me—Ghost picking off two more as they turned in confusion. Leo covered me as I moved to the crates, prying one open to check. Full of weapons. Perfect.

"Load what we can!" I barked.

Ghost grabbed the keys from one of the bodies and backed up a truck to the crates. "Looks like Christmas," he joked.

Leo helped load, moving faster now, getting into the rhythm of it. Within minutes, we had enough to make Kross sweat.

But as we were about to pull out, Ghost tensed. "Company."

Sure enough, more headlights appeared at the end of the dock—Victor's backup, too late to save the shipment, but early enough to cause trouble.

"Go," I said to Leo, jumping into the driver's seat. "We're not here to fight them all tonight."

"But—" Leo started, but Ghost cut him off.

"Move!"

Leo scrambled into the passenger seat as Ghost hopped in the back, rifle raised. I slammed the pedal down, tires screeching as we tore off into the night. Bullets pinged off the truck as Victor's men opened fire, but we were already gone, disappearing into the fog.

Back at the safe house.

Ghost cracked open one of the crates, pulling out a rifle and inspecting it like a kid with a new toy. "You weren't kidding. This is enough to start a war."

I sat down, lighting a cigarette, my mind already on the next move. "That's exactly what we're gonna do."

Leo sat across from me, still breathing hard from the chase. "What now?"

I looked at both of them, the weight of the night settling over us. "Now? We deliver a message to every crew in this city. Kross is slipping. And Victor? He's next."

Ghost chuckled darkly. "You really want them both."

I exhaled smoke, staring into the dark. "I won't stop until they're both broken. Kross took everything from me. And Victor... he made me believe he was a friend. That's worse."

Leo leaned forward, eyes sharp. "And when they're gone?"

I smiled faintly. "Then we'll see who's left standing."