Damian slid onto the barstool with a fluid motion, the smooth leather creaking slightly under his weight. The atmosphere of the casino pressed in on him like a living, breathing entity—the sounds of clinking glasses, muffled laughter, the occasional shout of triumph or defeat. The faint buzz of neon lights created an almost hypnotic rhythm, but none of it reached him. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind sharp and focused, the encounter with Mira already slipping into the back of his mind like a distant memory.
His boss, a tall man with a hawk-like nose and eyes that never blinked, leaned forward from his seat beside him. The man's presence was commanding, but there was something cold about him, as if he operated solely on business, devoid of emotion. He wore a tailored suit that seemed too expensive for this dive, the dark fabric glinting slightly in the dim light.
"Damian," he began, his voice like gravel, low and dangerous, "you've always delivered. No questions, no hesitation. That's why I trust you for this job."
Damian didn't reply at first. Instead, he glanced at the bartender who slid the drink toward him—a glass of bourbon, the usual. He took a sip, the burn of the alcohol warming his insides, and then faced his boss, his expression unreadable.
"So, what's the deal?" Damian asked, his voice a calm contrast to the tension he could feel building in the air.
The man nodded slightly, pushing a folder across the bar toward him. "A university kid. Goes by the name of Ethan Cole. He somehow got his hands on a sizable amount of scopolamine. And now he's playing games. Refuses to give it up, wants to make a deal with someone else."
Damian took the folder, flipping it open with practiced ease. Inside were photos of a young man—college-aged, scruffy, unremarkable. His face, however, seemed to carry a defiance that Damian instantly noticed.
"And you're asking me to find out how he got it?" Damian asked, his eyes scanning the details in the file.
"Not just that." The boss leaned in, his voice lowering, almost a whisper. "We need to make him understand what happens when you try to cross us. He's too dangerous to let roam free."
Damian's lips curled into a small smile. "I'm sure I can convince him."
He tossed the folder back onto the bar with a casual motion. He knew the job would be a bloody one, but that was part of the thrill, wasn't it? The adrenaline, the power, the way it made him feel alive. The fear in people's eyes when they knew their fate was sealed.
The boss gave him a nod, as if this was what he had expected. "You know the drill. We'll send a team, but I need you to be the one to handle the situation. No one else can do it like you."
Damian stood up, the empty glass still sitting in front of him. "Understood," he said coldly, his gaze flicking toward the exit. His body tensed, ready for action, his mind already working on the strategy.
The boss didn't say anything more, but Damian didn't need him to. He was already a step ahead, planning how he would deal with this Ethan Cole.
The door to the back room of the casino clicked shut behind him as he walked down the long hallway. It was quiet, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the main floor. The dim lights overhead flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the walls. Damian was alone now, and the silence pressed in, almost comforting in its stillness.
But then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the number. It was from an unknown source.
Damian raised an eyebrow but answered anyway. "What is it?"
The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, smooth and calculating. "I heard you were looking for Ethan Cole. You know, I think we could help each other out."
Damian's fingers tightened around the phone, his expression darkening. "Who is this?"
"Someone who knows exactly where he's hiding. Someone who's been keeping an eye on him. But I don't work for free, you know."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Damian's lips. "How much?"
The voice laughed, the sound low and amused. "It's not money I want, Damian. You'll owe me a favor. When the time comes, you'll remember who helped you."
Damian's pulse quickened just a fraction, though he masked it well. There was something unsettling about this unknown player. He didn't like owing favors to anyone, but if it got him closer to Ethan Cole, he would play along—for now.
"Fine," Damian said coldly, his tone a promise of future payback. "I'll consider it."
The voice chuckled again. "Good. I'll send you the details. Don't keep me waiting."
The line went dead.
Damian slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, the weight of the conversation settling on him. Someone else was involved in this. Someone who wanted more than just money or power. His instincts screamed at him, telling him to be cautious, but that was a warning he couldn't afford to heed. Not now.
He had a job to do.
As he made his way to the parking lot, he couldn't shake the sense that things were spiraling into something far more complicated than he had planned. That voice—the mystery behind it—had stirred something deep within him.
A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn't fear. It was the thrill of the unknown. The adrenaline that came with danger. He had been raised in this world, surrounded by shadows and secrets, but every now and then, something new would surface. Something that made him question his place in all of this.
Damian slid into his black SUV, the engine roaring to life with a growl. The tires screeched as he pulled out of the lot, heading toward his next destination. The city lights blurred as he sped down the empty streets, his thoughts focused solely on Ethan Cole and the unknown ally who had just thrown a wrench into his plans.
He didn't know it yet, but this was just the beginning. A new chapter was unfolding in his life—one that would drag him deeper into the underworld, where loyalty was a fragile thing and betrayal was inevitable.
But Damian wasn't afraid. He thrived on chaos, on the darkness.
And this time, the Devil would get what he wanted.