I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 089

Twenty-four hours later.

The neon pulse of the North District was beginning to fade into the bleak grey of the pre-dawn hours. It was 1:30 AM outside Club Elysium.

The previous night had been a wash. Kane and Owen had staked out the venue until 2:00 AM, but Chimp—that skeletal, long-armed lieutenant of the Warwolf Division—had never shown his face. He might have slipped out early, or perhaps he was burrowed deep within the VIP lounges, shielded by a wall of high-priced security.

Refusing to let the trail go cold, the two men returned for a second night of silent observation. To maintain their cover, they had secured a corner booth and hired two "hostesses" to keep the drinks flowing. From 8:00 PM until now, Owen had sat like a gargoyle, his natural aura of suppressed violence making the women visibly uncomfortable. He didn't speak; he didn't drink. He simply watched.

This left Kane—a man who had never developed a taste for hard liquor—to play the part of the gregarious high-roller. For over five hours, he had been "suffering" through round after round of orange juice, flashing a rehearsed, charming smile while the women leaned into him. He felt less like an Overlord and more like a paid companion, a thought that made his skin crawl with irritation.

As the clock ticked toward 1:30 AM, exceeding the latest departure time provided by the informant Tyler Monroe, a seed of doubt began to take root. Had Fenris issued a lockdown order? If the veteran members of the Direwolf Syndicate—the former Confinement Death Ward prisoners—were restricted to the Central Hub, extracting information on Rex’s location would become an order of magnitude more difficult.

Owen caught Kane’s eye, a silent inquiry: Do we pull the plug?

Kane exhaled a long breath, his gaze drifting one last time toward the grand staircase that led from the private suites. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick roll of hundred-dollar bills, and tucked them into the bodice of the woman sitting closest to him. "Time to go. Thanks for the company, ladies."

The women’s eyes lit up like slot machines. They moved in simultaneously, pressing their bodies against Kane’s arms.

"Leaving so soon, handsome?" the one on his left purred, her voice thick with artificial sweetness. "We can continue this elsewhere. For you? Free of charge."

"We're clean, honey," the other whispered, tracing a line down his chest. "No 'surprises' to worry about."

"Tomorrow," Kane said, his voice smooth as silk. "I’ll find you tomorrow night. But tonight, I have business—"

He stopped mid-sentence. His entire body coiled like a spring. Owen, too, had gone rigid. Their eyes were locked on a short, dark, wiry man descending the stairs. It was him. The Chimp.

He was flanked by four massive bodyguards, professional-grade enforcers who scanned the room with practiced paranoia. As they reached the lobby and headed for the heavy glass doors, Kane pulled out the smartphone they had taken from Tyler Monroe. He found the entry for "The Boss Chimp" and hit the call button.

Across the lobby, the wiry man paused. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a buzzing phone. Kane watched through the screen as the man answered.

"Hello? Monroe? You there?" The voice crackled through Kane’s handset.

Kane’s lips curled into a predatory arc. He hung up without a word. He patted the two women on the cheeks. "Change of plans. Goodbye, ladies. See you in another life."

Before the women could react, Kane and Owen were out the door, moving with the silent, synchronized grace of practiced killers.

Outside, Club Elysium faced a high concrete wall. Between the club and the wall ran an eight-yard-wide service road—a desolate stretch of asphalt that favored the violent and the swift. At nearly 2:00 AM, the street was a ghost town, populated only by the hum of distant sirens.

Chimp and his four shadows were approaching a black SUV when Kane called out, his voice cutting through the chill air. "Hey, Chimp!"

The five men spun around, their hands diving into their coats. But the moment Kane spoke, he was merely the distraction. Owen had already vanished into a blur of motion. His feet barely seemed to touch the pavement as he accelerated, a wraith in the moonlight.

The bodyguards felt a sudden, icy draft. Before they could clear leather, a silver flash carved a lethal arc through the darkness. Two of the men didn't even have time to gasp; their throats were opened in a single, surgical sweep. Blood sprayed across the black paint of the SUV like a macabre Jackson Pollock.

Without breaking stride, Owen grabbed the third guard by the hair, wrenching his head back and driving his knee upward with the force of a battering ram.

CRACK.

The man’s facial structure collapsed inward, pulverized by the impact. He fell into a heap, his body twitching in a violent, final seizure.

Chimp and the sole surviving bodyguard scrambled backward, putting five yards of distance between themselves and the man who had just dismantled three of their elite in a heartbeat.

"Who the hell are you?" Chimp spat, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and sheer terror.

Owen didn't waste breath. "The last thing you’ll ever see."

He lunged like a leopard, his body twisting in mid-air as he unleashed a thunderous spinning back kick. The force was enough to shatter ribs. Chimp saw it coming but was too slow; he crossed his arms in a desperate guard.

BOOM.

The impact sent Chimp staggering back seven paces, his boots skidding on the asphalt as he barely kept his balance.

Owen used the momentum of the kick to pivot. In one fluid motion, he reversed his grip on his dagger and drove it into the final bodyguard’s throat. He buried the blade to the hilt, then yanked it out, unleashing a geyser of crimson. The guard clutched at his neck, trying to plug a leak that couldn't be stopped. He fell to his knees, gurgling on his own lifeblood until his eyes went flat and dull.

Chimp stared in horror. His forearms felt like they had been hit by a sledgehammer; the pain of the splintered bone made his hands shake uncontrollably.

"Who... what do you want?"

Kane walked forward, stepping over the corpses as if they were nothing more than litter. His smile was warm, but his eyes were like those of a shark. " Chimp, I have a few questions. I’m hoping you’ll be more cooperative than the last guy."

"And if I’m not?"

"That’s not a choice you get to make."

Owen moved again, a blur of motion. He aimed a palm strike at Chimp’s head. The wiry man rolled frantically across the asphalt, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have cracked his skull.

As he scrambled to his feet, Kane was already there, as if he had teleported. Chimp’s world narrowed to the sight of Kane’s cold, mocking grin.

CRUNCH.

Kane’s boot drove into Chimp’s right knee with the precision of a carpenter driving a nail. The joint buckled and snapped, the leg twisting into a grotesque V-shape. Chimp hit the ground, clutching his mangled limb and letting out a high-pitched, warbling shriek of agony.

Kane didn't let up. He grabbed the man by his greasy hair and slammed his face into the hood of the SUV. He pinned him there, then delivered a brutal hook to the man’s solar plexus.

Chimp convulsed, vomiting a spray of bile and blood. The strike had been delivered with only half of Kane’s strength, yet it felt like his internal organs had been shifted by a tectonic plate.

"If you want the pain to stop, start talking," Kane whispered into his ear.

The man’s face was a mask of b****y defiance. He spat a mouthful of red onto the hood. "Go to hell!"

"Admirably brave," Kane mused. "But exceptionally stupid." He gripped the man’s left shoulder. With a sharp, sudden torque—Pop—the joint slid out of its socket.

Chimp let out a muffled roar, his teeth grinding together so hard they threatened to shatter. He glared at Kane with bloodshot eyes, but no words came.

"Tiresome," Kane muttered. "Owen, give him a taste of that 'acupuncture' Dixon Jace is so fond of."

Owen pulled a small metal case from his pocket. "I prefer needles to toothpicks." He took Chimp’s hand and, with terrifying clinical speed, drove a long, silver needle under the man’s thumbnail.

Chimp’s entire body arched in a violent spasm. His eyes rolled back in his head, the agony of the nerve-rich tissue being pierced causing his muscles to fire in random, uncontrollable bursts.

Kane looked at the needle. It wasn't a standard medical tool; the surface was covered in microscopic, backward-facing barbs. Once it went in, pulling it out would be even worse. He looked at his men and realized that the Shadow Eagle Clan was becoming a collection of true monsters.

Suddenly, Chimp’s eyes snapped forward. A look of fanaticism replaced the pain. "I’m telling you... nothing!"

He slammed his jaws together with a sickening snap.

Kane and Owen watched in stunned silence as the man’s severed tongue rolled out of his mouth and onto the black asphalt. Chimp convulsed a few more times, then went limp in Kane’s grip, blood pouring from his mouth.

He had chosen silence over life.

"Damn," Owen whispered, his eyes wide. "He actually did it. He bit it off."

Kane took a deep breath, looking down at the mangled, dying lieutenant. "It seems we aren't the only ones who don't fear the Reaper. Perhaps we need a more subtle approach than raw brutality."

But before he could say another word, Owen’s body stiffened. He pointed a trembling finger at Chimp’s collar, where the fabric had pulled away during the struggle.

There, tattooed into the pale skin of the man’s neck, was a mark that made both of them feel a sudden, icy chill.