The Damned Path: Chronicles of Damien

The warehouse was a distant glow in the rearview mirror as Ghost drove us through the empty city streets. Flames still licked the sky, a bright orange reminder of what we'd done.

Leo sat beside me in the back seat, silent, staring out the window. I knew what he was thinking — what we were about to step into was bigger than any of us.

Ghost glanced at me through the rearview. "Where to now?"

I lit a cigarette, inhaling deep. "To the Devil's Den."

Leo turned, frowning. "You sure? You know what kind of people hang out there."

"Exactly why we're going." I stared straight ahead. "If I'm going to bring down Kross, I need monsters worse than him."

Ghost smirked. "You're really about to make a deal with the devil?"

I exhaled smoke, a thin smile forming. "I'm done playing nice."

The Devil's Den wasn't a place for the faint of heart. A grimy, underground bar where all the city's worst crawled for business—hitmen, dealers, mercenaries. You walked in there, you left your soul at the door.

We stepped through the entrance, the thick scent of alcohol and blood hitting me like a wall. Music pounded, low and heavy, like a heartbeat waiting to burst.

Eyes turned to us, sizing us up. Some recognized me. Whispers started.

"That's Damien."

"The one who hit Kross."

A man by the bar — tall, scarred, one eye gone — raised his glass in a mocking salute. "Looks like dead men walking."

I ignored him. Ghost and Leo flanked me as we moved toward the back, to a booth where Razor sat — the only man in the city as dangerous as Kross.

Razor grinned as we approached, showing too many teeth. "Well, well... Look who's crawling out from the shadows. Damien Knight."

"Razor." I sat across from him, leaning forward, eyes locked on his. "I've got a proposal."

He chuckled. "Everyone's got a proposal. Question is — can you pay the price?"

I slid a folder across the table. "These are Kross's routes, warehouses, and his stash houses. Everything I've got."

Razor's smile faltered for a second as he flipped through it. "You're handing me Kross's empire on a silver platter."

I leaned in closer. "I'm not giving it to you. I'm asking for a partnership."

His eyes narrowed. "Why? You don't need me to take him out. You've already made a damn good start."

"Because Kross won't stop. And when he comes, he'll bring everything—money, guns, men. I need someone just as vicious. Someone who knows how to fight dirty."

Razor tapped a finger on the folder. "And what do I get out of this?"

"You get half. His docks, his supply lines, his turf. And you get to watch him burn."

Silence stretched between us. Razor studied me, as if weighing whether to slit my throat or shake my hand.

Finally, he grinned. "You've got guts, Knight. I'll give you that."

He extended a hand, and for a moment, I hesitated — because once I took that hand, there was no going back.

But I was already too deep.

I shook his hand, gripping it tight. "Deal."

"Deal," Razor echoed, his smile dark.

As we left the Den, Leo looked shaken. "You sure about this, Damien? Razor's worse than Kross in some ways."

I glanced at him. "I'm not looking for saints, Leo. I'm building an army."

Ghost nodded approvingly. "About time you start thinking like a king."

I lit another cigarette, watching the smoke curl into the night.

"Kross took everything from me," I said quietly. "Now, I'm taking everything from him — and I don't care how dark I have to go to do it."

Leo didn't say anything more. He knew, like I did, that there was no turning back now.

As we drove off into the night, I thought about Kross — and how sweet it would be when he finally realized his empire was crumbling from the inside.

This wasn't just war.

This was annihilation.

And I would be the one to bring it.