blood and war

devil's bargain

Chapter 7: The Devil's Bargain

The fake Maya moved faster than humanly possible. She rolled off the bed as Chen fired, bullets tearing through the mattress where her head had been a second before. The IV ripped free, spraying blood across the floor.

Jayce dove behind a counter. Rico grabbed the medic and pulled her down. Chen kept firing, tracking the target as it—she—moved with liquid precision across the room.

"What the hell is she?" Rico shouted.

The fake Maya vaulted over a chair, grabbed a surgical tray, and hurled it like a frisbee. The metal caught Chen across the temple. She went down hard, gun skittering away.

Jayce lunged for the weapon. Fake Maya kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling. She was on him instantly, hands around his throat, squeezing. Her eyes were wrong—pupils too large, almost black.

"Grim sends his regards," she said in that wrong voice.

Rico slammed into her from the side. They crashed into the medical equipment, monitors shattering. Rico was bigger, stronger, but she moved like water, slipping his grip. She drove her elbow into his solar plexus. He gasped, stumbled back.

Chen was up again, bleeding from her head but functional. She tackled fake Maya from behind, locking her arms. "Get out! Now!"

Jayce grabbed his gun from the floor. Rico hauled Chen's medic toward the door. They ran.

Behind them, Chen screamed.

Jayce turned. Fake Maya had broken Chen's hold, twisted her arm at an impossible angle. Chen's bone snapped with a sound like a gunshot. She collapsed, clutching her shattered arm.

Fake Maya started toward them.

Jayce fired. Three shots, center mass. The woman stumbled but didn't fall. She looked down at the wounds, then back up at Jayce. Smiled.

"That tickles."

He fired again. Headshot. Her skull snapped back but she stayed standing. Blood ran down her face, mixing with the surgical wounds.

Not human. Couldn't be.

"Go!" Chen gasped from the floor. "Elevator! Code is 4477!"

They ran. Into the hallway. Punching the elevator button. Rico hammering it again and again. The medic was crying, hyperventilating.

Footsteps behind them. Measured. Slow. Fake Maya walked into the hallway, still bleeding from the head wound that should have killed her.

The elevator dinged. Doors opened.

They piled in. Jayce hit the garage level button. Rico entered the code. The doors started closing.

Fake Maya's hand shot between them. The doors shuddered, tried to close, couldn't. She pulled them open with impossible strength.

"You really should have taken Grim's deal," she said, stepping inside.

Jayce fired his last two rounds. Both hit her chest. She didn't even flinch.

Then the elevator lurched. The emergency brake engaged. They were stuck between floors.

The lights went out.

In the darkness, fake Maya laughed. "He just wants to talk. But if you keep fighting, he'll let me play."

Something grabbed Jayce's jacket. He swung wildly, connected with nothing. Another hand grabbed his throat. Lifted him off his feet. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't—

The elevator dropped.

Free fall. Everyone screaming. The emergency brake had released. They plummeted down the shaft. Fake Maya's grip on Jayce broke as she was thrown against the ceiling.

Rico had his knife out. In the strobe effect of passing floor lights, Jayce saw him stab her in the neck. She grabbed the blade, yanked it free, tossed it aside.

The elevator hit the emergency cushion at the bottom. The impact was devastating. Metal screamed. Everyone was thrown to the floor. The medic's head cracked against the wall. She went limp.

Silence.

Then the doors opened. Not to the garage. Somewhere else. A basement level that hadn't been on the button panel.

Six men in tactical gear stood waiting. Weapons trained on the elevator.

"Out," one commanded. "Hands where we can see them."

Jayce and Rico crawled out. The medic didn't move. Fake Maya stood up slowly, neck wound already closing. The flesh knitted itself together like time-lapse footage.

The tactical team didn't react. They'd seen this before.

"Take them," one said into his radio. "Grim's waiting."

They were zip-tied, hooded, and dragged through corridors. Jayce lost track of direction after the third turn. Up stairs. Through doors. Into a vehicle. Driving for what felt like twenty minutes.

When the hood came off, he was in a penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. Expensive furniture. Modern art on the walls. A bar stocked with bottles that probably cost more than Jayce had ever stolen.

And sitting in a black leather chair, smoking a cigar, was Marcus "Grim" Holloway.

He looked exactly like his photos but worse. Tattoos crawled up his neck. Scars crossed his knuckles. Eyes that had seen too much death and caused most of it. He was in his forties, powerfully built, wearing a suit that probably cost ten grand.

"Jayce Carter." Grim stood, walked over. "The boy who came back from the dead. I've been waiting to meet you."

"Feeling's not mutual."

Grim laughed. It was genuinely amused. "I like that. Balls, even now." He gestured to the chair opposite his. "Sit. We need to talk."

"I'm good standing."

"It wasn't a request."

Two guards shoved Jayce into the chair. Rico was forced into another seat nearby. The guards remained standing, weapons ready.

Grim returned to his throne. "You've cost me three million in product, killed fifteen of my men, and made me look weak. Do you know what that does to my reputation?"

"Figured you needed a reality check."

"Funny." Grim didn't smile. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to work for me. You're going to hand over what's left of your little crew. And you're going to help me expand operations into the territories your brother used to run."

"Trey's dead."

"I know. I was there." Grim tapped ash from his cigar. "Beautiful thing, watching family destroy family. Your brother had potential. You, though—you're interesting. Coming back like this. Building a crew from nothing. Hitting my warehouse." He leaned forward. "I can use someone with your skills."

"Go to hell."

"Hell's where we already are, Jayce. I'm offering you a way to survive it." Grim pulled out a tablet, tapped the screen. "Want to see what happens if you say no?"

The screen showed a live video feed. Rico's wife and daughter in their apartment. They were tied to chairs, gagged, surrounded by armed men.

Rico lunged forward. The guards slammed him back down.

"Don't hurt them!" Rico's voice cracked. "Please. They have nothing to do with this."

"I know." Grim's voice was cold. "That's what makes them effective leverage. You refuse to work for me, I kill them. Slowly. While you watch."

"You're a monster," Jayce said.

"I'm a businessman. There's a difference." Grim showed another video feed. Maya—the real Maya—tied to a chair in a dark room. Beaten. Bleeding. Barely conscious. "Found her six hours ago. She's been very uncooperative. But I think having you here might loosen her tongue."

"Let her go."

"Sure. After you agree to work for me. It's simple, Jayce. Loyalty for mercy. You do what I say, everyone lives. You refuse, everyone dies."

The room's other door opened. Someone else entered.

Jayce turned to look.

His blood turned to ice.

Malik walked in. Same face. Same walk. But different clothes. Expensive suit. Hair cut professionally. He looked like he belonged in this world of money and violence.

"Hello, Jayce," Malik said quietly.

"No." The word came out strangled. "You're supposed to be—"

"Undercover FBI?" Malik poured himself a drink from the bar. "That was a nice story. Truth is simpler. I've been Grim's lieutenant for two years now."

Jayce felt something break inside him. "The FBI raid. You saved me."

"I saved Grim's investment. You're worth more alive than dead. To him." Malik took a sip, wouldn't meet Jayce's eyes. "I tried to keep you away. Tried to let you stay dead. But you came back. You always come back."

"You set up Trey."

"Trey was reckless. Getting him killed was a mercy compared to what Grim would have done."

"You're lying." But even as Jayce said it, he knew it was true. The pieces fit. Malik had always been there at the critical moments. Always surviving when others died. Always one step ahead.

"I'm sorry," Malik said, finally looking at him. "I really am. But this is the world we live in. You adapt or you die."

Grim stood. "Now that we've cleared that up, let's talk business. You've got two options, Carter. Option one: you work for me. Run crews. Move product. Do what I tell you. Your people stay alive. You get paid. Everyone wins."

"Option two?"

Grim gestured to the window. Below, Jayce could see the city spreading out in all directions. Millions of lights. Millions of lives.

"Option two: I kill everyone you've ever cared about. Then I kill you. Slowly. And I sleep just fine afterward."

The cigar smoke curled between them. Grim waited.

Jayce looked at Rico. Saw the desperation in his eyes. His family was going to die if Jayce refused. Then he looked at the tablet showing Maya's tortured face. She'd tried to help him. Now she was paying for it.

"Twenty-four hours," Grim said. "That's how long you have to decide. After that, I start killing people." He nodded to the guards. "Take them to holding. Separate cells. Let them think about their choices."

The guards moved in. Jayce didn't resist as they dragged him up. As they pulled him toward the door, Malik stepped close.

"Choose correctly," he whispered. "Please. I don't want to watch you die."

"You already killed me," Jayce said. "On that roof. With Trey. You just didn't pull the trigger yourself."

Malik's face twisted. Pain? Guilt? Jayce couldn't tell anymore.

They were taken to a lower level. Concrete hallways. Cell doors with small windows. Rico was shoved into one cell. Jayce into another. The doors slammed shut. Locks engaged.

Jayce was alone.

The cell was ten feet by ten feet. Concrete floor. Metal cot. Toilet in the corner. One small window high up, too small to escape through.

He sat on the cot and put his head in his hands.

Everything had fallen apart. His crew was compromised. His friends were hostages. His brother's killer was offering him a job. And Malik—the one person he'd thought might still care—had been the enemy all along.

He had twenty-four hours to decide whether to serve the man who destroyed his life or watch everyone he cared about die.

Some choice.

Hours passed. Jayce paced. Tried the door. Nothing. Examined every inch of the cell for weaknesses. Found none.

Then he heard it. A sound from the ventilation shaft.

He looked up. The grate covering the vent was moving.

It fell away. A figure dropped down into the cell. Small, efficient, armed.

Detective Chen. Arm in a makeshift sling, face pale from blood loss, but very much alive and functional.

"Miss me?" she asked.

"How—"

"Tracked the signal from Maya's implant. Led me here." She pulled out a small device, held it against the cell door lock. "We've got maybe two minutes before they realize I'm here. You want to escape or die here?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're my best shot at taking down Grim. And because that thing wearing Maya's face killed my medic." Her voice went cold. "I want payback."

The lock clicked. The door opened.

"Rico's cell is three doors down. We get him, we go."

They moved fast. Chen's lock device worked on Rico's cell. He emerged, confused but ready to fight.

"Where's the real Maya?" Jayce asked as they ran down the hallway.

"My team has her. She's safe. Grim's men had her in a secondary location. We hit it twenty minutes ago."

"What about Rico's family?"

"Being extracted as we speak. They're safe."

They reached a stairwell. Started climbing. Behind them, alarms began blaring. Shouts echoed through the building.

"They know we're out," Rico said.

"Then we run faster."

They burst through a door into a parking garage. Chen's car was idling nearby, another cop at the wheel. They piled in. The car peeled out as bullets sparked off the concrete behind them.

In the backseat, breathing hard, Jayce felt his phone buzz.

He pulled it out. Message from unknown number.

He opened it.

A photo. Malik holding a gun to someone's head. As the image loaded fully, Jayce's heart stopped.

The person Malik was holding wasn't Maya. Wasn't Rico's family.

It was an older man. Gray hair. Weathered face. Eyes that Jayce knew better than his own.

His father. Alive. After fifteen years of being supposedly dead.

The message below the photo said: "Forgive me for what comes next."

Then a video started playing. Live feed.

Malik pressed the gun to Jayce's father's temple. His finger tightened on the trigger.

"No!" Jayce screamed.

The gun fired.

The screen went black.