The Damned Path: Chronicles of Damien

The city wasn't sleeping tonight.

The explosion outside my safehouse had set the whole underground buzzing. Kross's old crew, the remaining factions—they were all watching, waiting to see how I'd respond.

They wouldn't have to wait long.

Because I wasn't about to sit back and let this play out.

I was going to end it.

The Trail Begins

Ghost was already tracking the hit squad that had taken down Razor.

"Found something," he said, pulling up footage. "They came in through the docks. Unmarked boats, but military-grade."

That confirmed it. These weren't local thugs.

This was precision work.

The kind of people who didn't just take contracts.

They finished them.

"They're stationed somewhere in the industrial zone," Ghost continued. "They've got a temporary base, probably a launch point for bigger moves."

I nodded, already running through the options in my head.

We needed to strike first. Hit them before they could regroup.

Ghost was still talking, but my mind was already there. In the fight.

In the blood.

The Setup

We moved out before dawn.

Just me, Ghost, and three of our best. Silent. Fast.

I didn't want a war—I wanted a message.

We found their hideout in an abandoned steel mill. Low security, but wrong. Too easy.

Ghost caught it first.

"It's a setup."

I smiled. "Then let's turn it against them."

The Ambush

The second we stepped inside, the air changed.

A click.

Then a voice, distorted through a speaker.

"Damien. We've been waiting."

The doors slammed shut.

And then the first gunshot rang out.

I moved fast, diving behind a rusted-out machine as bullets ripped through the space where I had been standing.

Ghost was already in position, returning fire. Our guys fanned out, using the darkness to their advantage.

But these mercs weren't amateurs.

They were hunting us, moving like a pack of wolves.

Good.

I wanted a fight.

And they had just given me one.

The First Kill

One of them broke cover, trying to flank me.

I caught the glint of his rifle just before he fired.

Too late.

My knife was already in the air, spinning end over end before sinking deep into his throat.

He went down without a sound.

I didn't stop moving.

One down.

I reloaded, shifting my position. The others were falling into place, closing the net.

Ghost's voice crackled in my earpiece.

"We've got three more moving in. West corridor."

I grinned.

"Then let's welcome them properly."

The Endgame

They thought they had me.

They thought this was a trap.

But I had already flipped the board.

Ghost had looped their comms.

Their backup? Wasn't coming.

I cornered their leader in the control room, pinning him against the panel.

He struggled, but my grip was iron.

"Who sent you?" I growled.

His lips curled into a bloody smile.

"You already know."

Then he coughed, and I saw it—the cyanide capsule between his teeth.

I grabbed him, but it was too late.

He slumped, dead before I could force another word out of him.

Damn it.

Ghost's voice cut in.

"Damien. We've got a problem."

A New Player

I turned, following his gaze to the laptop on the table.

A message was blinking on the screen.

Just one line.

"Nice move. Let's see what you do next."

No signature. No trace.

But I knew what this meant.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

Someone out there wasn't just trying to kill me.

They were playing with me.

And that?

That was a mistake.