I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 086

Troy Reed’s chest heaved with a mixture of shame and a desperate, burning desire for redemption. He leaned forward, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder where a jagged blade had nearly severed his deltoid just days prior. His right arm was encased in a thick medical sling, immobilized against his chest, but his eyes were wide with a feverish intensity.

“Kane,” Troy pleaded, his voice cracking like dry parchment. “The brothers in the Mad Tiger Crew... we’ve been suffocating. The humiliation is a physical weight on our chests. They feel like they’ve been dragged through the mud of Jersey City and left for dead. I’m begging you—give us the vanguard. Let the Mad Tiger Crew be the first blade that strikes the The Direwolf Syndicate. We will pave the road to Jersey City with our own grit if we have to. We won’t let the Shadow Eagle Clan be shamed a second time. Please, trust us to finish what we started.”

Kane Adler—the man known as Kane to his soldiers and a nightmare to his enemies—didn't offer an immediate response. Instead, he allowed a heavy, suffocating silence to fill the office. His eyes drifted momentarily to the white bandages peeking out from Troy’s collar, then to the man’s trembling hand. It was the look of a predator assessing a wounded member of the pack.

“The blow we took in Jersey City was massive, Troy. I won’t lie to you or to this room,” Kane finally said, his voice as smooth and cold as a sheet of ice. “But in the long game, this disaster might be the most valuable lesson we’ve ever received. Our conquest of Larkspur was too easy. It was a stroke of luck that birthed a lethal arrogance in our hearts. We started to believe our own myth. We thought we were the only monsters in the woods.”

He stood up and began to pace the length of the mahogany-paneled room, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. “This was a wake-up call. We aren't just fighting corner boys and street-level thugs anymore. We are facing Centurions—men who have survived the same meat-grinder of the Confinement Death Ward that we did. We are moving toward a future where we will clash with organizations that have dominated entire states for decades, or international syndicates that have existed for a hundred years. Our current reach, centered in a single city like Larkspur, is nothing compared to the empires we mean to topple. We are fledglings, brothers. Fledglings who need to be tempered in the rain and the blood. We cannot let defeat turn into despair, nor can we let it turn into blind, stupid rage. Hank Steel is right—Rex is alive. He is a pawn in a larger game, and we do not win that game by charging in with our eyes closed.”

Kane stopped and turned to face them, his silhouette framed by the darkening sky outside the window. “The vengeance will come. The shame will be erased. But it will be done on my terms, with cold precision, not heated emotion. Effective immediately, the Mad Tiger Crew is to withdraw to the southern outskirts of the city. I want you in the The Vacants. Drill them until they can’t feel their legs. Rebuild their discipline before you rebuild their pride. Ethan Skyler, your Hades Crew and the Direwolf Syndicate will halt all offensive operations in the neighboring districts. I want every elite operative you have to coordinate with the Shadow Division. We need to sweep every alley and boardroom in this region to see if there are other Centurions lurking in the shadows. No more surprises.”

He leaned over the table, his shadow stretching long across the maps of Hawthorne State. “Pull two thousand men from each of your divisions. Move them to the southern staging grounds. I want a force of six thousand soldiers sitting on the border of Jersey City. First, it will serve as a high-pressure training environment. Second, I want the Direwolf Syndicate to feel the weight of our gaze every time they look north. I want them to smell the storm coming.”

“Yes, Kane!” The response was immediate and thunderous, a collective roar that shook the glass partitions of the office.

“Elias Thorne,” Kane turned to the man with the golden hands. “Contact Owen. Order every member of the Execution Unit currently in the field to drop what they’re doing. Tell them to requisition whatever civilian or private aircraft they need. I want the entire unit back at the Citadel by 8:00 AM tomorrow. Brief them on the situation during the flight. I want them sharp and hungry.”

“Understood, Kane. It’ll be done,” Elias replied, already pulling out an encrypted satellite phone.

“Tomorrow morning,” Kane continued, his eyes flashing with a predatory light, “I will personally lead Talons into the heart of Jersey City. We are going in under the radar. The six thousand men staged at the border will be under the unified command of Ethan Skyler. Troy Reed and Reno Keyes, you will act as his lieutenants. You will hold that line and wait for my signal. When the command comes, you won’t just enter Jersey City—you will consume it. Dixon Jace, you are the master of the house. You stay here and hold the Citadel. Hank Steel will assist you. I will not have Fenris thinking he can slip a knife into our back while we’re looking at his front door.”

“Sir!” The leaders stood at attention, their postures rigid with a renewed sense of purpose.

The prospect of Kane himself taking the field was a powerful tonic. Among the high-ranking members of the Shadow Eagle Clan, the true extent of Kane’s combat ability was a matter of legendary debate. Ethan and Rex had often discussed, over drinks and blood, what would happen if the two of them—the two most feared 'beasts' in the syndicate—combined forces against their leader. Even The Talons had whispered about it in the dark. The conclusion was always the same: a grim, unsettling realization that even together, their chances of survival were microscopic. Kane wasn't just a fighter; he was a force of nature, an apex predator whose limits had never truly been tested.

However, the reality of the mission remained grim. Jersey City was now the lair of the Direwolf Syndicate. They had six thousand men and at least sixty Centurions—warriors of comparable lethality to the Talons. Even for a man of Kane’s caliber, walking into a city of six thousand enemies was a suicidal gambit. But as they looked at the cold determination on his face, they realized it was the only way. Someone had to hold the home front, and someone had to hold the massive army at the border. Kane was the only one with the surgical skill to infiltrate the lion’s den and find the pressure points.

In the corner of the room, Tia Valentine and Sienna Summers watched the proceedings with a quiet, observant intensity. They were no longer the frightened girls Kane had rescued; they were becoming fixtures of his inner circle, learning the language of power.

“Husband,” Tia asked softly, breaking the tactical silence. “When exactly do you leave tomorrow?”

Kane’s brow furrowed. The upcoming mission was a descent into a meat-grinder, and the last thing he needed was the distraction of their safety.

Sensing his hesitation, Sienna quickly added, “We aren’t asking to go with you, Kane. We know the stakes. we won't be a burden or a distraction. We just... we wanted to know.”

Kane’s expression softened, just for a fraction of a second. He reached out and ruffled their hair, a rare gesture of genuine affection. “Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I’m going to be deep in the Jefferson State territories and the surrounding chaos for a while. It’s going to get very ugly, very quickly. I won’t be able to look after you. Listen to me—I want you on a flight out of here this afternoon. Go back home where it’s safe. I’ll have a security detail escort you to the terminal.”

To his surprise, the girls didn't argue. They nodded in unison, their eyes reflecting a maturity beyond their years. “We’ll go,” Tia said. “You don't need to worry about us, Kane. We have our own protection—guards who have been in Larkspur this whole time. They stay in the shadows when you’re around, but they’re here. We’ll meet them and head out. Just... come back to us. Be careful.”

Before he could respond, both girls stepped forward, stood on their tiptoes, and planted quick, soft kisses on his cheeks before spinning around and sprinting out of the office.

Kane stood there for a moment, genuinely bewildered by the sudden departure and the mention of their own mysterious security. He shook his head, the brief moment of humanity passing as the weight of the war returned. He gestured to Elias Thorne. “Follow them. Make sure they connect with these 'guards' and get to the airport safely.”

“On it,” Elias said, disappearing through the door.

“Dixon, the Citadel is yours. Don't let me down,” Kane said, his voice returning to its command frequency. “Ethan, get to the southern staging area immediately. Start the mobilization. I want the recall orders issued to every satellite cell by sunset.”

“Yes, Kane.”

“Understood.”

Kane waved them off, the room clearing as the gears of the Shadow Eagle Clan began to grind toward total war. “Marcus, let’s go. We’re going back to the hospital. I want to see Titus one more time before we cross the border.”

As Kane and Marcus Grady reached the door, Kane paused, his hand on the heavy brass handle. He didn't turn around. “Jackson, Troy... the matter of your failure is tabled. We will discuss the price once Jersey City has fallen. For now, I need your blades, not your apologies. Stay alive long enough to make yourselves useful.”

The door clicked shut. Inside the room, a collective breath was finally exhaled. Marcus caught Kane’s eye and gave a small, mischievous smirk—the kind of look only a brother could give.

Ethan Skyler walked over and clapped a heavy hand on Jackson’s and Troy’s shoulders, a grim smile playing on his lips. “Wipe those looks off your faces. You heard the man. He’s not going to hang you today. He values his brothers more than his pride, even if he’d never admit it. Take this as the only warning you’ll ever get. Let’s get to work. I’ll be at the staging grounds if you need me.”

Dixon Jace’s face remained a mask of professional calculation, but his eyes were softer than before. “The Execution Unit will still have to file the paperwork, and there will be a formal review. Kane is right—the rules keep us from becoming a mob. But a 'thorough' review can take a long time to complete. Especially if the subjects are busy winning a war. Go on, get out of here. Build me an army that can take that city.”

Jackson and Troy nodded, their spirits lifted from the depths of the abyss. They left the office not as condemned men, but as soldiers with a debt to pay in blood.