I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 031

The Appalachian Foothills.

Deep within the rugged wilderness, where the spine of the ancient mountains rose to meet the clouds, lay a secret that wasn't on any map. In the United States, Mount Rainier in Washington State might claim the title of the most prominent glaciated peak, but here, in the secluded valleys of the Appalachian foothills, a different kind of power resided.

These mountains were old. In the summer, their rocky outcrops stood like bleached bones against the green canopy; in winter, they were shrouded in an unforgiving white blanket of snow. It was a land of extremes, forged by time and geology.

But these ancient woods hid more than just endless forests and elusive wildlife.

Deep within the primeval wilderness, where the trees grew thick enough to block out the midday sun, lay a fortress. Hidden bunkers, reinforced concrete tunnels, and lethal traps had been carved into the earth, creating a sanctuary not just from bears and mountain lions, but from the prying eyes of the DEA and the FBI.

This was the kingdom of Nathan Black.

The d**g empire he had built with his own hands—The Venom Nest—was hidden here. From this impenetrable fortress, he had once controlled the narcotics trade for the entire northern seaboard, evading thousands of federal raids and disappearing like a ghost in the mist for years.

Until he was betrayed.

Day Three After Release. 5:00 PM.

The sun hung low over the western peaks, casting long, b****y shadows across the dense forest. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine needles, damp earth, and impending violence.

Deep in the woods, a tall man leaned lazily against a massive oak tree. He wore a heavy camouflage jacket and held a submachine g*n casually in one hand, the metal cold against his palm. He was chewing on a piece of tough beef jerky, looking bored out of his mind.

This was his daily patrol route. A routine he had done a thousand times. Walk the perimeter, check the sensors, eat a snack, go back to the bunker to play cards. Nothing ever happened here.

He took another bite of the jerky.

Crunch.

Suddenly, he stopped chewing.

A strange feeling prickled the back of his neck.

Silence.

It wasn't that the forest was quiet—the wind was still rustling the leaves, and a distant stream bubbled over rocks. But as a former Special Forces soldier, his instincts screamed at him. The birds had stopped singing. The squirrels had vanished. The rhythm of the forest had been broken.

Something was wrong.

His eyes narrowed. He shifted his grip on the submachine g*n, his thumb flicking the safety off with a practiced click. He scanned the tree line ahead, his muscles tensing.

A shadow moved.

Just a flicker. A disturbance in the pattern of the leaves.

He tensed, ready to raise his weapon and shout a challenge.

Pfft.

A dull, wet sound echoed near his ear. Like a stone dropping into mud.

Silenced pistol.

That was the last thought his brain processed. A single 9mm bullet had drilled a neat hole through the center of his forehead, turning off the lights instantly.

His body slumped against the tree, then slid down to the mossy ground like a puppet with its strings cut. A stream of red and white matter oozed from the hole, steaming in the cold mountain air.

As the guard fell, figures began to materialize from the shadows of the forest.

Kane Adler stepped out first, holstering his silenced pistol with a fluid motion. Behind him came Marcus Grady, Ghost, Nathan Black, and a strike team of forty-one men—including Rex Dalton (Caleb Rourke), Ethan Skyler, The Talons, and Elias Thorne's Execution Unit.

"Heh," Marcus whispered, clapping Ghost on the shoulder. "Three years in the hole, and your aim hasn't rusted a bit."

Ghost blew invisible smoke from his finger-g*n, a smirk playing on his lips. "Class is permanent."

Nathan Black, who was significantly heavier than the rest of them, leaned against a tree, gasping for air like a beached whale. His face was pale and slick with sweat.

"Ahead..." Nathan wheezed, pointing a trembling finger into the gloom. "About five hundred meters. There's a minefield. Two hundred meters wide. We... huff... we have to cross it before dark. If we lose the light, we're dead."

"Two hundred meters wide?" Marcus’s eyes widened. He looked at Nathan with a mix of horror and grudging respect. "Damn, fatty. You really had money to burn, huh? Who puts a minefield in a national forest?"

Kane ignored the banter. He gripped the hilt of his Tang Blade—a long, straight sword strapped to his back—and stared into the darkening woods.

"Nathan, how long to cross?"

"The terrain is rough," Nathan panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "About forty minutes. If you follow my lead exactly, we can clear it before sunset. But after the mines... there's a surveillance grid. Cameras everywhere."

"Cameras?" Ethan Skyler frowned. "You built a fortress with mines and cameras, and you still got taken down by your own lieutenant? How did that happen?"

Nathan’s face turned red with embarrassment. He waved his hand dismissively. "Long story. Treachery comes from the inside, okay? Don't judge me."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Listen, Boss. The camera network stretches from the edge of the minefield all the way to the main compound. It's tricky. We need speed. We need our fastest climbers to go over the treetops and neutralize the four corner guard towers. Once the towers are blind, the rest of us can rush the walls. Speed is everything. One mistake, and the alarms scream."

Kane nodded, his face grim. "Understood. Brothers, move out!"

They advanced in silence for another five hundred meters. The forest grew denser, the shadows longer.

Suddenly, Nathan raised a hand. The column froze instantly. He pointed at the ground.

To the untrained eye, it looked like normal forest floor—leaves, dirt, twigs. But looking closely, one could see the faint outline of tripwires hidden in the underbrush, and the disturbed earth where pressure plates slept.

Bones were scattered everywhere. Deer, wolves, maybe a few unlucky hikers who had wandered off the trail. Bleached white warnings in the gloom.

It wasn't just the ground. Looking up, Kane saw explosives strapped to tree trunks, covered in moss to blend in. Some were tied high in the canopy. Linear charges connected trees, ready to turn the forest into a blender of shrapnel. It was a kill zone. A three-dimensional web of death.

Ethan Skyler whistled softly. "Nathan, you really went all out. This is professional grade. Whoever laid this field knew their business. It's a work of art."

Nathan was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his nose. The hike was killing him. "Boss... look for the purple markers. I left a backdoor. Some of the mines... huff... have a special casing. Half-buried. Follow my footsteps exactly. Do not deviate by an inch."

Everyone nodded, the atmosphere tense. The playfulness was gone.

Nathan squinted in the fading sunlight, scanning the ground. He found a faint purple glimmer on a buried canister. He took a deep breath, prayed to whatever god watched over d**g lords, and jumped.

He landed squarely on the mine.

Everyone flinched, bracing for the explosion.

Nothing happened.

Nathan exhaled, wiping sweat from his eyes. He waved them forward. "Safe. Follow me."

For the next twenty minutes, it was a slow, terrifying dance. Eighty-two feet moving in single file, stepping exactly where the fat man stepped. The only sound was heavy breathing and the wind in the trees.

Finally, they cleared the zone. Nathan collapsed onto the ground, his legs turning to jelly.

"I can't... I can't go further," he gasped, his chest heaving. "Boss... the rest is up to you. From here, stay in the trees. Ten meters up. That's the blind spot for the ground sensors. When you see the wall... hit the four corner towers. Here are the maps."

He handed four crumpled pieces of paper to Kane.

"Rest here," Kane said, taking the maps. "We'll handle the rest."

He turned to his elite team. "Dante, you're with me. Marcus, you take Rex. Ghost, take Ethan Skyler. Ford Slater, you back up Harvey Shaw. Go!"

Kane took a deep breath, centered his breath, and leaped.

He moved like a phantom, grabbing a high branch and swinging up into the canopy. In seconds, he vanished into the leaves. Dante and the others followed, silent as shadows in the night.

The Venom Nest. Northeast Surveillance Room.

Inside a warm, dimly lit bunker, the hum of electronics filled the air. A young man with dyed red hair was staring at a wall of forty monitors. He frowned, leaning closer to screen #12.

"Hey," he said, nudging the bald man next to him. "I think I saw something. Screen 12. A shadow. Just for a second."

The bald man didn't even look up. He was watching an adult movie on a portable DVD player, his hand busy inside his pants, engaging in a solitary activity.

"You're seeing things again, Red," the bald man grunted, eyes glued to the action on his small screen. "You say that every week. It's a bird. Or a squirrel. Who the hell comes out here? We're in the middle of the damn mountains."

He let out a low moan of pleasure, shifting in his chair. "Damn... look at that. I've been stuck in this hole for two months. I'm going crazy. I heard the Boss brought back some new girls last week. When do we get a turn? I've been holding it in for sixty days."

"Is it?" Red hesitated, looking back at the screen. Nothing moved. Just trees and shadows.

He sighed, his vigilance evaporating. He turned his chair to watch the movie over the bald man's shoulder. "Yeah... the last batch didn't last long. They broke too easy. Hope the Boss got some tougher ones this time. I need something with a little fight."

At a card table behind them, four other guards laughed, throwing chips into the pot.

"You two perverts," one of them jeered. "If the Captain catches you w*****g on duty, he'll skin you alive."

"Relax," the bald man sneered. "Captain's asleep. Besides, who's gonna know?"

Nobody was watching the screens.

It had been three years. Three years of silence. Three years of safety. The fortress was impregnable. The minefield was lethal. The legend of the Venom Nest kept everyone away.

They believed they were safe. They believed no one could touch them.

Laziness is a slow poison. And tonight, it was going to kill them all.