I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 027

Because Captain Caldwell had dropped Kane and his men off just outside Larkspur, the group arrived in the city by mid-afternoon—around 3:00 PM.

They didn't head for a hotel. They didn't head for a bar. Instead, they ghosted into the southern outskirts of the city, taking shelter in an Abandoned Paper Mill.

The mill was a relic of Larkspur’s industrial past—a sprawling skeleton of rusted steel, shattered glass, and concrete that smelled of mildew and decay. It was bleak, cold, and utterly forgotten by the city.

Choosing this place wasn't a strategic masterstroke; it was a necessity born of poverty.

Despite being future warlords of the underworld, right now, these eighty-one men were broke. They had walked out of the Confinement Death Ward with nothing but the clothes on their backs. The only cash they had was a measly one thousand dollars that Nathan Black had managed to smuggle out, hidden in a place no one wanted to ask about.

One thousand dollars. For eighty-one large, hungry men who had just spent months on prison rations, that money wouldn't even cover a decent welcome-home dinner, let alone an arsenal.

Inside the cavernous main hall of the mill, the men settled down on discarded pallets and piles of old newspapers.

Kane stood before them, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, empty space.

"Rest up. We move tonight. Our objective is simple: we find a local g**g, and we wipe them out. We take their territory, their money, and their weapons. Right now, we have exactly one thousand dollars to our name. That buys us dinner tonight. It does not buy us guns."

Rex (Caleb Rourke) leaned against a rusted support pillar, cracking his knuckles. "If we hit them hard enough, we don't need weapons to take out a g**g of two or three hundred. Kane, you used to live here. You know the layout. Who do we hit first?"

Ethan Skyler (Yellow Springs) cleared his throat, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Kane, I think... we should wait. Just for a bit. It's not that I'm scared, but the local ecosystem is fragile. These gangs have deep roots—connections with other syndicates, the police, maybe even city officials. If we go in blind and smash something important, we might trigger a backlash we aren't ready for. I suggest we observe for a few days. Gather intel. Then strike."

Rex shot him a withering look. "Observe? For how long? Do you plan to starve while you watch them? We have no money for food, genius."

The air between the two lieutenants crackled with tension. Before it could spark into an argument, Kane raised a hand.

"Enough. Rex is right. We don't have the luxury of time. Poverty is our biggest enemy right now. We need cash flow, and we need weapons. That is the only law that matters."

Kane’s eyes hardened. "However, Ethan raises a valid point about heat. So here is the plan: Tonight, we crush a small, low-level g**g. We strip them of cash and weapons—machetes, knives, whatever they have. Then, we go dormant. Even if the police or a bigger g**g comes sniffing around, we do not engage. We endure.

"Once we have breathing room, I will take a select team and follow Nathan Black to raid that d**g den he told us about."

In the corner, Nathan Black, who had been panting from the hike, suddenly shot to his feet. His eyes gleamed with greed and vengeance.

"Kane... Boss! We go now?"

Kane shook his head with a weary smile. "Patience, Nathan. We have no money, no recruits, no weapons, and no political cover. If we hit a major target now, we die. We need seed money first. We use that money to grease palms—bribe the corrupt officials, silence the police. Once the hands of the law are tied with cash, then we expand. Then we swallow Larkspur whole."

Nathan Black grinned, a nasty, sharp expression. "Boss, I'm not bragging, but if you give me The Talons and your support... I guarantee we wipe those scum off the face of the earth."

"Good. Wait one day. Tonight, we take a g**g. Tomorrow, we prep. The night after, we raid the d**g den."

Kane turned to Jackson Hayes. "Jackson, take The Shadow Division out now. Don't go far. Just scout the nearest g**g. I need a target package by sundown.

"Elias, take some men and go buy food. Spend every cent of that thousand dollars. This is our first night of freedom. It doesn't have to be a banquet, but the men need to eat their fill. And... get some booze."

Booze?

The eyes of every man in the room lit up like Christmas lights.

Rex licked his lips, his tiger-like eyes gleaming. "Elias! Screw the food! Buy less bread, buy more whiskey! Hahaha!"

"Hahaha!"

Laughter erupted through the grim factory. Heads nodded in vigorous agreement. Prioritizing alcohol over food was a policy they could all support.

Kane laughed. "Do what you want, just don't get blackout drunk. We have work to do."

He checked his watch, his expression shifting from camaraderie to something more solemn.

"Marcus, Ghost, Dante. You three are with me. We're going out. Don't wait up for us—I'll be back before the operation starts at 10 PM."

Without waiting for questions, Kane turned and walked out into the fading afternoon light.

Marcus Grady, Ghost, and Dante Romero exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed. But as they left, Marcus shouted back over his shoulder:

"Save me some whiskey!"

Outside the factory, the wind was picking up. Dante noticed that Kane's expression had darkened, the playfulness gone, replaced by a heavy, melancholic cloud.

"Kane," Dante asked quietly. "Where are we going?"

Kane let out a long, slow breath, watching it mist in the cold air.

"To the cemetery."

Five kilometers south of their hideout lay the Larkspur Memorial Park, a massive, sprawling necropolis. Because of its serene environment and feng shui, almost everyone who died in Larkspur ended up here.

It had been four months.

Four months ago, right here in this place of broken souls, Kane had buried the love of his life, Eliza Bennett (QiQi). It was here, in this place of endings, that his old life had died and he had been dragged away in chains to the death row transport.

Fate was a cruel playwright. He had thought his heart died that day. He had thought he was a walking corpse. But in the b****y arena of the Confinement Death Ward, the beast within him had awakened. The Blood Eagle had spread its wings.

His life had taken a violent, unimaginable turn. Where would he go from here? What kind of monster would he become? He didn't know. In this "Game of Death" orchestrated by the men in the high towers of Washington D.C., he was just a pawn who had decided to become a king.

But before he could look forward, he had to look back. One last time.

The cemetery was the fuse. Lighting it would burn away the last of the old Kane.

He knelt quietly before a simple gray tombstone.

Eliza Bennett.

This time, Kane didn't cry. There were no hysterics. Just a calm, sad smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Eliza... I'm back. It's been four months. Long enough to die, short enough to remember everything.

"These four months have changed me. I don't know if you'd like the man I've become. You used to say you loved my smile the most. You wanted me to be happy.

"I promise you today... I won't sink into darkness again. I won't cry anymore. I will smile. I will be brave. I will be strong. I will never let anyone threaten me again. I will never let anyone bully me. I will protect what is mine with a grip of iron. I will hold the blade in my hand and never put it down. Anyone who tries to hurt me will fall at my feet before they even get close.

"Eliza, you will always be in my heart. Forever. No one will ever replace you. That is my promise. An unbreakable vow. Trust me, okay?

"Today, I'll stay with you for a while. Starting tonight, I walk a path into the dark. A path of blood, conspiracy, and power. But I promise you... I will keep walking.

"Bless me from heaven, Eliza. Bless your lover."

The setting sun began to bleed across the horizon, casting a golden, melancholy light over the rows of graves. It illuminated Kane's face—calm, stubborn, and cold. And it caught the glint of two single tears that finally escaped, rolling down his cheeks like liquid diamonds.

While Kane was whispering to Elias of his past, the sound of an engine broke the silence.

A sleek, grey BMW Alpina sports car pulled up to the curb near the cemetery entrance.

In the distance, Marcus Grady and Dante, who had been kicking stones out of boredom, suddenly snapped to attention. Their eyes widened.

A figure stepped out of the car.

It was a girl. No, a goddess.

She was tall—at least 5'9"—with legs that went on for days, encased in skin-colored stockings that shimmered in the sunset. She wore a chic light red leather jacket over a black dress, a combination of danger and elegance. Her face was porcelain perfection, her lips painted a bold, striking crimson. Her eyes were bright, intelligent, and captivating.

But it was her expression that hit them hardest. A faint, barely-there smirk played on her lips—a look of supreme confidence, pride, and a touch of stubbornness.

Gulp.

Marcus Grady swallowed audibly.

"Beauty..." he whispered. "Top shelf. Absolute top shelf."

Without warning, Marcus shoved Dante hard. Dante, caught off guard, stumbled and fell flat on his back.

"Hey!"

Marcus didn't look back. "My share of the whiskey tonight is yours. This beauty is mine."

He smoothed his hair, put on his best "I'm a dangerous but sensitive bad boy" face, and strode toward her.

"Hey there, Miss. Visiting a loved one?"

The girl didn't even glance at Marcus, who was trying desperately to look cool. She simply gave a non-committal "Mmhmm" and kept walking.

Marcus rubbed his hands together, his thick skin impervious to rejection. He sped up to match her pace.

"So, uh, beautiful... quick question. Do you have the time?"

She glanced at her wrist. "5:10."

"No way!" Marcus gasped with exaggerated shock. "My watch says 5:10 too! Do you think... do you think this is fate?"

Behind them, Dante, who had just picked himself up from the dirt, nearly fell over again.

Shameless, Dante thought. Absolutely shameless. That's the worst pickup line in history.

The beauty paused. She sighed softly, a sound of mild annoyance, and kept walking.

"Hehe, Miss," Marcus persisted, buzzing around her like a persistent fly. "Look, since we're so fated, would you mind if we exchanged numbers? Maybe chatted a bit?"

"I mind."

"You don't mind? Haha! You're so open-minded! That's great. So... do you have a boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind changing him?"

"Yes."

"Well... do you mind having one more?"

The girl stopped. She wobbled slightly in her heels, as if the sheer weight of his shamelessness had physically hit her.

She took a deep breath, turned around, and flashed Marcus a dazzling, blinding smile.

Marcus’s heart hammered against his ribs. This is it, he thought. Success!

Then, she spoke.

"My name is Victoria Vance. Very soon, you will address me as 'the Boss’s Wife'."

Her smile sharpened into something dangerous.

"Fox... I hate to break it to you, but you are flirting with the wrong person."