Run With The Devil

Cracks in the Walls

Deon's pov

The night is still. Too quiet, almost like the city is holding its breath. I stand in my office, looking out over the skyline, the faint lights flickering in the distance. My men are downstairs, preparing, gearing up for what's to come. They know the job. They know the risks. But that's not what's on my mind right now.

I light a cigarette, the flame a brief flash in the darkness before the smoke curls into the air. My eyes narrow as I think about the lab, the one we've been digging into for weeks now. There's something about it. Something that doesn't sit right with me. I don't like the unknown, and this place is full of it.

Drugs, serums, human experiments-all the usual dirty business, but deeper. We've handled plenty of operations before, stolen from labs, robbed shipments, moved product through every corner of the city. But this... this feels different. More dangerous. Not just because of the money, though that's plenty. It's the way the place is hidden, buried under layers of secrecy, like they don't want the world to know it exists.

Which means there's something inside worth protecting. Or destroying.

A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I don't say anything, just flick my fingers toward the door, and Vincent steps in. His face is tight, serious. He's never been the type to smile much, but I can tell something's bothering him.

"Boss," he says, closing the door behind him. "We've got the full layout of the lab. Angelo's finishing the details, but we're ready to move when you are. Everything's set. But..."

"But what?" I ask, taking a long drag from my cigarette. I exhale slowly, watching the smoke drift toward the ceiling.

Vincent hesitates, which isn't like him. He's been with me long enough to know I don't have patience for hesitation. But he finally speaks, his voice low.

"There's something you should know. We pulled more info on the subjects-on the people they're experimenting on. It's worse than we thought."

"Worse how?" I ask, turning to face him fully.

He pulls a folder from under his arm and sets it on the desk. I flip it open, my eyes scanning the documents inside. Photos of people-kids, some of them-strapped to machines, wires hooked into their bodies, their faces pale and hollow. Their eyes empty. Test subjects.

"They're using them to push these serums to the limit," Vincent says. "Mutating them. Giving them abilities. Strength, speed, things that shouldn't be possible. Most of them don't survive. The ones who do... well, they're barely holding on."

My jaw tightens, but I don't show it. Emotions don't belong in this room. But the idea of humans being used like lab rats, broken and discarded, sits wrong with me. I've seen a lot of things in this world, done worse things myself, but this... this crosses a line.

I glance at one of the photos in the file. A girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Her eyes are wide, haunted. There's a number tattooed on her wrist-019. Just a number. No name. But there's something in her face that catches me. Something that looks like she's been fighting too long.

"Is this one still alive?" I ask, tapping the photo.

Vincent nods. "Yeah. We found references to her in the more recent reports. They've been pushing her harder than the others. Faster. She's survived longer than most. But from what we can tell, they're close to breaking her too."

"Why?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

"They want results, boss. They don't care who dies in the process. If they can create the perfect subject, they'll have a weapon. An asset they can sell for millions, maybe more."

I flick the photo back down onto the pile and turn away, pacing slowly toward the window again. The city stretches out in front of me, vast and untouchable, like it's mine to control. I built this empire with blood, and I've taken everything I ever wanted. But there's something about this lab, these experiments, that gnaws at me.

Money's one thing. Power's another. But this? This is personal.

"I want that place burned to the ground," I say finally, my voice cold. "Take everything we need, leave nothing behind."

Vincent nods, but I can see the question in his eyes. He's waiting for something more, something I haven't said yet. I don't owe him an explanation, but he's earned enough to know when there's more at play.

"What about the subjects?" he asks quietly.

I take another drag from my cigarette, exhaling slowly. My eyes drift back to the photo of the girl, 019, her face etched with exhaustion and pain. She's one of many, just another victim of people who think they can play god.

But something about her sticks with me.

"Bring her to me," I say, my voice as steady as always. "If she's still alive, I want to know why. And I want to know what they've done to her."

Vincent raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't argue. He knows better than to question my motives. I don't need to explain myself. Not to him. Not to anyone.

"We move in two days," I say, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray. "I want the full team ready. No mistakes. This lab is ours now."

Vincent gives a curt nod, then turns to leave the room.

As the door closes behind him, I stare down at the folder again, at the faces of the broken people inside. The girl, 019, looks back at me, her eyes almost challenging me. Like she knows something I don't.

I'll find out soon enough.

I don't know why I'm so fixated on this place, on her. But I've learned to trust my instincts. There's more going on here than just money. There always is.

And I intend to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.