I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 069

Jackson Hayes’s eyes glinted with an appreciative light as the weight of the proposal settled into the room. He leaned forward, his voice hushed with a mixture of awe and calculation. "If this unit truly comes to fruition, their individual combat prowess and collective versatility would do more than just uphold the reputation of The Talons. They might very well eclipse the four masters standing before them."

Harvey, Ryder, Sev, and Anthony Russo watched the expressions of Kane Adler, Dixon Jace, and Jackson Hayes. Seeing the predatory gleam in their eyes, a collective sinking feeling washed over the four selected instructors. They realized they were trapped. They were the sacrifices to the altar of the future.

Harvey let out a muffled groan, his shoulders slumping. "It’s always easier for the guys standing back and giving the orders," he muttered under his breath, though not so quietly that it didn't draw a faint smirk from Kane.

"Harvey, I realize this isn't what you envisioned for the first year of our expansion," Kane said, his voice dropping into a tone of earnest gravity. "Drawing four of my best commanders away from the front lines is a massive risk to our immediate tactical strength. But look at the board. We have no idea how deep the waters of our future enemies truly run. We need a hidden card, a fail-safe. I need you to think about this seriously. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to reflect. If the thought of this is truly unbearable, tell me, and I’ll find others to take your place."

Ryder didn't hesitate. He stood up, knocking his chair back slightly, and nudged Harvey with a heavy elbow. "We don't need forty-eight hours, and we don't need a swap, Boss. We’re in."

Anthony Russo shrugged with a cold, almost s******c grin. "I’ve always had a bit of a penchant for breaking people down and building them back up. Consider it a yes from me."

Harvey and Sev exchanged a long, weary look. They were brothers-in-arms, and where one went, the other inevitably followed. "Fine," Harvey sighed, his expression softening into one of grim determination. "We’re in. But don't you dare forget about us out there. Eighteen months is a long time to spend in the brush, Kane."

Kane let out a genuine, booming laugh that seemed to chase away the lingering gloom of the morning. "Forget you? Never. I said eighteen months is the limit, the absolute maximum. If you can forge them into the weapons I need faster than that, you bring them home early. My only demand is that you hold nothing back. Don't pull your punches, and don't keep any secrets. If they become legends, we gain a layer of security that no amount of money can buy."

Harvey took a deep breath, the reluctance in his eyes replaced by a sharp, professional focus. "You have our word, Boss. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. We’ll give them everything we have."

"Good. Then it’s settled," Kane said. "When you begin the selection process, be brutal. Be honest. Tell them exactly how high the mortality rate is. I want every single one of them to sign a binding waiver before they set foot on a transport. This isn't a summer camp; it’s a meat grinder. If only half of them make it back, I want that half to be the most terrifying force on the planet."

The four instructors stood as one, their posture snapping into a crisp, military salute. "We won't fail you!"

They quickly finished the remains of their breakfast, the atmosphere in the room shifting from casual to operational. "Boss," Harvey said, wiping his mouth, "we’re going to head to the southern outskirts now. They’re running the general inductions there anyway. We can observe from the shadows and start flagging the high-potential candidates immediately. It’ll save us days of sorting through paperwork later."

"Go," Kane nodded. "Rex Dalton, Ethan Skyler, and Reno Keyes have already been briefed. They’ll give you whatever access you need. Jackson, you go with them. This selection is a top-tier priority. Dixon, Hank, I need you two to stay behind."

"Yes, Mr. Adler!"

Once the office had cleared and the heavy oak door clicked shut, Kane turned to his three remaining companions. Marcus Grady, Dante Romero, and Elias Thorne had already taken up positions by the door, their expressions alert.

"Stay sharp," Kane told them. "I don't care who it is—not even our inner circle—no one gets through that door for the next hour. I need total privacy for this discussion."

The three bodyguards nodded and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed. The lock engaged with a heavy thud.

Inside, the atmosphere changed instantly. The warm morning light felt colder, and the silence of the office became oppressive. Hank Steel, who had been part of the group for over a month now, watched Kane with a growing sense of unease. He had seen Kane confident, he had seen him ruthless, but he had never seen him look so... dark.

Dixon Jace sensed it too. The strategist’s eyes narrowed, his mind already running through a thousand permutations of what could be bothering their leader. "Kane, what is it?"

Kane didn't answer immediately. He rose from his desk and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the sprawl of Larkspur. "Do you remember what Frank Sterling told me when he first recruited me?" he asked, his voice low and vibrating with a hidden tension. "He said that since he was the one who proposed this 'Clash of the Titans' strategy to the Deep State, he had the power to control the outcome. He told me that if any of the thirty-six candidates failed their missions or, more importantly, if any of them began to drift outside of the government's control... he had the ability to eliminate them instantly."

He turned back to face Dixon. "At the time, I thought it was just posturing. I figured, even if the FBI has elite agents, how could they possibly monitor thirty-six massive syndicates simultaneously? How could they know the moment someone had a change of heart? Even if we wanted to flee the country, we have the resources to disappear. So how could he be so certain he could kill us in the 'first instance' of betrayal?"

Dixon’s breath hitched. A rare flicker of genuine dread appeared in his cold, calculating eyes.

Hank Steel looked back and forth between them, his confusion mounting. Thirty-six forces? Frank Sterling? FBI agents? He understood none of the context, but the sheer gravity of the conversation kept him pinned to his seat, silent and observant.

"Dixon," Kane asked, "what are you thinking?"

Dixon walked slowly toward the window, his voice sounding strained, as if the words were physically difficult to force out. "A mole. There is a mole. Either one of our original eighty-one brothers is an agent planted by Frank Sterling, or every single one of the thirty-six empires has a state-sponsored infiltrator embedded at the highest level."

Kane let out a long, weary sigh. "Exactly. Every move we make, the government sees. Every secret we whisper, they hear. That is the only way they would feel comfortable letting us run wild like this. And this person isn't just a low-level observer. They have to be powerful, someone with enough skill to strike at me the moment the order is given. We have a viper in our nest, Dixon. A mole who holds our lives in their hands."

"Kane... who do you suspect?"

Kane shook his head slowly, the weight of the realization etching deep lines into his face. "I don't suspect anyone. I don't want to suspect anyone. More accurately, I’m terrified to suspect anyone."

"Then... who do you trust?"

Kane looked at the strategist, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "The only person I trust completely in this matter is you."

Dixon felt a sudden, unexpected surge of warmth bloom in his chest. It was a strange, soft sensation, one that felt entirely foreign to a man who prided himself on being a glacier. To be singled out as the most trusted confidant over someone like Rex Dalton was a profound revelation.

"Kane, I... thank you."

Kane stepped forward and gripped Dixon’s shoulder. "Don't thank me. I can't explain it logically. You're cold, you're distant, and half the time you make people feel like they’re being dissected under a microscope. But from the moment I met you, I felt a strange, intuitive certainty that I could rely on you. If I can't trust the man who holds the keys to my strategy, I’ve already lost. I used to trust Rex implicitly. He was my first brother. But now... when I look at the possibility of a mole... I can't let myself go down that path."

Dixon’s face broke into a rare, genuine smile. "Maybe that’s part of the reason you’re training those four hundred 'untainted' recruits. You’re building a shadow army that the mole hasn't had time to infect."

"It’s definitely a factor," Kane admitted. "But my mind is a mess, Dixon. I need you to help me break this down."

Dixon cleared his throat and glanced at Hank Steel, who was currently vibrating with the intensity of the moment.

Hank’s heart was hammering against his ribs. A mole? This was the highest-level intelligence in the Shadow Eagle Clan, and Kane was sharing it with him? He realized that by excluding the other crew leaders and keeping him here, Kane was extending a level of trust that most men spent a lifetime trying to earn.

The sheer honor of it overwhelmed him. Before he could stop himself, Hank slid out of his chair and dropped to one knee behind Kane, his voice trembling with emotion. "Boss, I swear on my life, I will never breathe a word of this. I am your shadow. I am your blade. My life is yours!"

Kane reached down and pulled the young man up, his smile warm and reassuring. "I didn't bring you here because I doubted you, Hank. I’ve been watching you all month. Your work in the north has been impeccable, but you still have a tendency to miss the finer details. I brought you here to learn. From now on, whenever you aren't needed in the Direwolf Syndicate, you find Dixon. You study under him. I want you to become the strategist the Shadow Eagle Clan needs. Don't let me down."

Dixon nodded. "I was actually planning on pulling you into the Execution Unit for a while, but with the Direwolf Syndicate being so new, Reno needs the help. For now, you balance both. You’ll be busy, but you’ll learn more in a month with me than you would in a decade on the streets."

"I won't let you down!" Hank promised, his eyes burning with a new kind of fire. "I'll learn everything!"

Dixon turned back to the main topic, his voice dropping into a professional, analytical monotone. "Alright, Boss. Since we’re speaking freely, let’s look at the suspects. If this person is a threat to your life and has access to our deepest secrets, they must be in the inner circle. The list is short.

First, Rex Dalton. He has the strength—he nearly killed you in the Death Ward. Second, Ethan Skyler. He’s a former peak operative of the East Wing, he has the military background that screams government ties. Third, Silas Rivers. He lost to Ethan, but he’s still a monster in combat. And then... your three bodyguards. Marcus Grady is my best friend, but I know how capable he is. He could keep you occupied long enough for Dante Romero’s blades or Elias Thorne’s marksmanship to finish the job."

Dixon paused, the gravity of his own words hanging in the air. "They wouldn't need a head-on fight. A poisoned drink, a silent blade in the night, a 'accidental' misfire. No matter how strong a man is, he is still flesh and blood. That is the true terror of a mole, Kane. It isn't the strength of their arm; it’s the proximity of their hand."