Run With The Devil

The Calm Before the Hit

Deon's pov

The night settles over the city like a heavy blanket, shadows creeping into every alley, every corner. I sit in the back of the car, staring out the window as the streets blur past, my mind sharp, focused. This isn't like the other jobs we've pulled. It's bigger. Riskier. And I like that.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the message from Angelo: Everything's ready.

Good. Everything's in place. The men know their positions, the trucks are prepped, and the lab's security has been mapped out to the finest detail. If there's one thing I hate, it's loose ends. And tonight, I'll make sure there aren't any.

"Boss," Vincent says from the front seat, his voice low. "You think this girl's really worth all this trouble?"

I don't respond right away, my eyes still on the city as it passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. He's asked me this before-is she worth it?-and I didn't answer then either. Because the truth is, I'm not sure yet. But I know enough to trust my instincts, and my instincts are telling me there's more to this girl than the reports can explain.

I take a drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke fill the car before I speak. "She's not just another lab rat. They've been pumping her full of serums for years, testing her limits. And she's still standing. Whatever they've done to her, she's survived it."

Vincent nods but doesn't say anything else. He doesn't need to. We both know this isn't just about the drugs or the money anymore. It's about control. Power. And something tells me that 019-that girl-holds the key to it.

"We go in clean," I say, my voice cold, sharp. "No mistakes. No screw-ups. We take the girl, grab everything we can from the vault, and burn the rest. Leave nothing behind."

He nods again, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I see the question in his eyes, the one he hasn't dared ask out loud yet. What if the girl's a threat? He's thinking it, and hell, I've been thinking it too.

What if they've made something they can't control?

I'm not afraid of danger. Never have been. But I'm not stupid either. I know enough to be cautious. The lab, the experiments, the drugs-they're playing with things that most people wouldn't dare touch. But I'm not most people. I don't care what they've created in there, as long as I can use it.

"We're almost there," Vincent says, pulling me out of my thoughts. I nod, tapping the ash off my cigarette as the car slows down.

The lab looms in the distance, a cold, steel building that blends into the industrial wasteland around it. No signs, no markers. Just another nameless building in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for the kind of work they're doing inside.

We park a few blocks away, the rest of the crew already in position. Angelo's voice crackles over the earpiece. "All clear. We're moving in."

I step out of the car, the cool night air hitting my face as I light another cigarette. The street is empty, quiet. Too quiet. It always is before something big goes down.

"Let's move," I say, signaling to Vincent and the others.

We slip through the shadows, making our way toward the lab's perimeter. The guards are exactly where we expected them to be-two at the front gate, another patrolling the side. It's laughably easy. Marcus, our tech guy, has already looped the security cameras. They'll never even see us coming.

I wait, watching as Angelo and his team take out the guards with silent precision. No gunfire, no noise. Just quick, clean work. I wouldn't tolerate anything less.

Once the gate's clear, we move in.

The lab's door is reinforced, but Marcus has that covered too. He taps a few keys on his tablet, and the lock clicks open. The rest of us step inside, guns drawn, moving silently through the sterile, white halls.

The place reeks of chemicals and something else, something darker. It's the kind of smell that sticks with you, that clings to your skin even after you've left. The kind of smell that tells you whatever's happening here isn't natural.

We split up, just like we planned. Angelo takes his team toward the vault, Vincent and I head for the labs. I've got one thing on my mind: 019.

We move quickly, sweeping through the halls, checking every room. Most of them are empty-just rows of sterile beds and machines. The kind of place where they strip people of their humanity, reducing them to numbers on a chart.

And then we find her room.

Vincent and I stop in front of the door. There's a small window in the metal, and through it, I see her-just a shadow, sitting on a cot in the corner. A young adult, barely more than a teenager, her head down, her knees pulled to her chest.

But she's not just a young adult. I know that much.

"Is that her?" Vincent asks, glancing through the window.

"Yeah," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "That's her."

We push the door open, stepping inside. The room is cold, too cold for a place someone's supposed to live. She looks up at us, her eyes wide, and for a second, she doesn't move. She just stares.

There's something in her eyes that I can't quite place. Fear, maybe. Or maybe she's just trying to figure out if we're the enemy.

"Lyra," I say softly, using the name I know they never call her by. Her real name. Not 019.

She blinks, her expression shifting. She knows the name, even if it's been buried under years of being called nothing but a number.

"We're getting you out of here," I say, stepping closer. "But you need to move now."

She doesn't answer right away, but I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She's been waiting for this, whether she knows it or not. Waiting for something to change.

She stands slowly, her movements fluid, almost too fast. Like she's always holding herself back, even when she doesn't need to.

"Let's go," I say, turning to leave, but Vincent holds up a hand.

"Boss," he mutters under his breath. "What if she's dangerous?"

I look at him, then back at Lyra. She's still standing there, watching us. There's something unreadable in her eyes, something I don't fully understand yet.

"She probably is," I say, flicking my cigarette to the ground. "But that's why we need her."

Vincent doesn't argue. He knows me well enough to know that once my mind's made up, there's no turning back.

We move quickly, leading Lyra out of the room, through the empty halls. But as we reach the main corridor, alarms blare through the building. The red lights flash, casting long shadows across the walls.

They know we're here.

"Move!" I shout, my voice cutting through the noise.

Vincent pulls his gun, and I take the lead, Lyra right behind me. She's faster than I expected, moving like she's barely touching the ground. I glance back at her once, and for a split second, I see it-the power in her, the speed.

She's more than they ever let her be. And now, she's ours.