Chemicals.
It rises from the darkness below in a revolting wave, causing my fucking eyes to water from the sting and its sheer potency. The smell of death desperately trying to disguise itself beneath antiseptic and salt, though it’s nowhere near enough to deter me, so I take a step closer. If anything, it only confirms what kind of monsters are hiding here. Billy and Danny remain quiet at my side as I relay our findings back to Ezekiel through the comms, both men staring down into the abyss, their weapons raised. My every instinct pulls me forward to whatever exists beneath this bunker. Danny feels it too because he’s right up my ass, following me as I step forward, before the three of us are moving deeper into what is probably the devil’s fucking lair.
The staircase seems to go on forever, each step dragging us further beneath the harbor until the air starts feeling noticeably heavier around us. Warmer and suffocating. Every breath starts to burn with the overpowering sting of alcohol, while somewhere deeper underground, a rhythmic beeping echoes faintly through the tunnel ahead.
“It sounds like a fucking hospital down here,” Danny whispers, but I don’t respond. Over the years, we’ve seen our fair share of underground facilities. Medical wings. Hidden offices. Illegal sites they tried desperately to keep hidden, but failed because wefound them. It was no surprise, though. That’s how the world really operates. Everything above ground is only surface level bullshit. Clean suits. Politics. Smiling faces pretending the world isn’t rotting from the inside out. The real shit, the truth, happens beneath our noses, buried underneath cities where nobody can hear the screaming.
Billy sweeps his flashlight across the corridor ahead while the steady beeping continues through the bunker, bouncing off the concrete around us in an endless loop. The deeper we move into the facility, the more it starts resembling some kind of underground trauma ward. Fluorescent lights flicker violently ahead, throwing strobes across the exposed concrete walls dripping with saltwater leaking through cracks in the foundation. Rusted wire mesh protrudes through sections where the cement has chipped away completely, the steel skeleton underneath exposed like open wounds running through the bunker. The lights flicker out completely, the sound of old pipes groaning somewhere behind these walls follows us with every step, and Danny takes this moment to move ahead, brushing past me to check if the coast is clear while Billy covers the darkness we just crawled out of.
“No cameras,” Danny murmurs, his voice tense through the suffocating silence hanging over us, save for the low beeping noise. We haven’t been game enough to talk, because while we might have an ideaof what’s down here, we don’t know how many guards there are lurking around, waiting to put a bullet in our skulls the second we turn the wrong corner. I keep my own weapon raised, ready for anything as we move. A steel door slams somewhere further down the corridor before a voice suddenly reverberates toward us, followed by fast footsteps seconds later. We kill our lights, the corridor plunging into total darkness just as Danny grabs the back of my jacket and yanks me sideways against the wall. Billy disappears opposite us near one of the doors while the footsteps grow louder. Closer.
I don’t get the chance to see what or who is coming, before Danny explodes out of the dark beside me, flicking on his light and grabbing the bastard by the jaw hard enough to wrench his head backward before dragging the blade across the guy’s throat in one, vicious motion. The knife opens him up instantly. Blood erupts everywhere. Across the walls, across Danny’s hands. Painting the concrete beneath our boots a pretty crimson before he finally collapses, choking at Danny’s feet. His hands claw uselessly at the gaping wound at his throat, the wet, gargling noise bouncing around us with each of his attempts at a cry. Danny fucking grins.Damn psychopath.He doesn’t hesitate before stepping over the dying body while the guy twitches and drowns in his own blood behind us as we continue. There’s no mercy in Danny. There’s nomercy in either of us as we search the dark ahead for any other signs of movement.
The smell is the first thing that gives me pause. Not the bleach this time, though there is still plenty of that around. No, this time it’s a thick, eye-watering stench applied by someone who knows that smell is evidence and evidence is a fucking liability. Antiseptic coats the back of my throat the moment I clear the bottom of the second staircase. But the thing underneath all of that is blood. Dried and fresh in equal measure, the copper-iron rising through the bleach the way truth rises through the best constructed lie. Entirely indifferent to the effort spent trying to suppress it. Underground air has its own particular scent. Recycled smog that carries the history of whatever has been breathing in the dark. Whatever…whoeveris down here, has been breathing for fuck knows how long. If we have it our way, they won’t be for much longer. I quiet my thoughts and focus, hoping to pick up any obvious smells of cologne, something that would indicate that there are others down here.
Danny and Billy keep ahead of me, their heads hanging low as they quietly pass through the strobing corridor, their silhouettes swallowed by the fluorescent lights still failing overhead. I follow close behind them, my weapon raised and ready, keeping my steps light against the concrete, because one wrong sound willcollapse this whole thing before we have seen what we came to see. And I want to fucking see it. The beeping grows louder with each door we pass, and the closer we get to the sound the further away it becomes. We peek through the arches and doorways that line either side of the corridor. Some of the rooms are filled with medical equipment and monitors, all unplugged. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this place was a ghost town. But Idoknow better, and that’s exactly what they want us to believe.
These feral assholes don’t have a unique fucking bone in their bodies.
The guys shoot each other a nod, before looking back over their shoulder to check on me. They know I don’t need a fucking babysitter, but Titan practically raised me and old habits die hard. What mattered to him, matters to Ezekiel too, and I suppose I appreciate the sentiment. Our jobs aren’t exactly safe, and we are family. Not by blood, but by bond. The outfit may have changed drastically over the years since Ezekiel took over as Don, but there is one thing that has never faltered.
Family looks out for family.
Always.
It’s the reason we’re all still standing.
In our world, that kind of loyalty is rare enough to be dangerous. It’s the only thing worth killing for. Which is exactly what we intend to do. Thosebastards have done enough. Caused enough. Destroyed enough. I’ll be damned if we let them destroy us too.
With that thought, we reach the end of the vacant hallway and stop before the only closed door we’ve found so far. A little obvious, but maybe they’re too arrogant and fucked up to care. Maybe they didn’t think we’d make it this far.
They’re about to find out how wrong they are.
CHAPTER TEN
RAVEN
Mangled bodies are scattered across the floor. A pile of exposed flesh and boneless posture. Shells of people whose faces were shredded from their heads. I stand speechless in the doorway, staring at the lifeless arms tangled in angles I’ve never seen before. I move forward, almost on autopilot, careful not to slip on the blood.So much for sanitary.My gaze flicks to what sits in the center of the room. The gurney under the makeshift surgical lamp, the woman lying on it, completely under, and breathing through a tube. I scan her frame to see if she’s still alive, relaxing a little when her chest rises and falls.
Her face.
What is left of it.
My blood boils at the sight. The skin is peeled back and folded like pages with a precision that takes me longer than it should to process. Not because I’m unfamiliar with the violence, I’ve been fluent in it since before I was old enough to understand the cost of it, but because of the specific quality of whatever the fuck this is. The careful incisions… It reads less like brutality and more like craft. The guys stand slackjawed at my side and I brush passed them to search for whoever the fuck is responsible for this. My spine stiffens when I come face to face with a tall, lanky man wearing a white coat and a surgical cap. He looks straight through me, moving around me like I am nothing more than furniture. I spin on my heels, watching in silence as he proceeds to tend to the woman’s face. Or rip it apart, I’m not quite sure.
“Gentlemen,” he murmurs nonchalantly, his voice muffled by the mask covering half his face.
“You have one minute to tell me what the hell this is or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” I almost growl the words, gripping my gun a little tighter as I move to the opposite side of the gurney, aiming the barrel between his beady eyes. “I won’t miss.” I grind my back molars, because I can’t kill him yet. The woman is probably half dead, lying without a damn face whose life depends on the bastard. The guys must think the same thing, because the white coat is still standing. They cross the room without a word, Danny searching the area for others, while Billy closes in behind the doctor, aiming his gun at the back of the fucker’s skull. The doctor doesn’t reply, hell he doesn’t even break a sweat. These corrupt assholes are worse than we ever were if this doesn’t shake him.
The click of Billy’s gun draws the doc’s attention. One eyebrow arches as he calmly returns to theneedle in his hand, methodically stitching the woman’s face back together, his hands not faltering once.
“Who are you?” Billy spits through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body coiled tight. The woman strapped to the table is the only thing stopping him from pulling the trigger. The man in the white coat doesn’t answer. I watch as the needle slips through torn flesh, pulling ruined skin together one stitch at a time.
“Well?”
“A doctor,” he replies dryly, and I glance at Billy. His jaw clenches, irritation rolling off him in waves, and my careful patience finally snaps. Rounding the gurney in three strides, I fist a hand in the front of his scrubs and rip him away from the table. He barely has time to register the movement before I slam him against the nearest wall, hard enough to rattle the shelves beside him. Surgical instruments crash to the floor. Metal clatters across the concrete, but he doesn’t look remotely concerned. His surgical mask is long gone, and I finally get a good look at his face. He’s older than I first thought. Mid-forties, maybe. Fine lines fan from the corners of his eyes, deepened by years spent squinting beneath operating lights. His nose has a slight bend to it, like it was broken once and never set quite right. Dark stubble shadows his jaw, and I can’t wait till it’s covered in blood. Maybe Ishould peel his fucking face off like he did to that woman.
“We asked you a fucking question.” The back of his head cracks against the wall, but instead of fear, all I find on his face is irritation.
