Damian glanced around at his friends, each nursing various injuries. The aftermath of today’s chaos hung heavy in the air, and his simmering anger threatened to boil over.

  His gaze landed on Jay, his lieutenant, who slouched in a chair, cradling a likely broken wrist. Normally, Jay wore a sly smirk, but today his expression was a grimace of pain, accentuated by a split lip. Damian suspected he was in worse shape than he let on, as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

  They had been back at their hideout for barely half an hour, and impatience gnawed at him. Lacey had been sent out on reconnaissance; of all of them, she was the least injured, perhaps due to her small stature and quick reflexes.

  This operation, intended to take down the notorious Rissi gang, had been shrouded in secrecy. What should have been a straightforward infiltration had turned into a disaster. If it hadn’t been for Ally’s formidable magic, they might not have escaped with their lives.

  Someone had betrayed them.

  The thought churned in his gut. If their intel had been sabotaged, he was determined to uphold his reputation on the streets—a reputation forged in fear and respect. The question loomed: was this a setup from the beginning, or had they been sold out at the last moment? That brought him back to Kith, the slippery information broker. Either he had made a mistake with his information, something highly unlikely given his reputation, or he had willingly handed them over to their enemies.

  Damian preferred to gather intelligence himself, but the urgency of the situation had forced their hand. Jay had heard whispers of a rare opening to infiltrate the Rissi, based on rumors of a gang meeting. They had needed the details fast.

  Now, here they were.

  Kith was known for providing reliable information—if the price was right. But doubt gnawed at Damian’s mind. Had they been sold out to a higher bidder?

  The intel had seemed solid when they arrived; minimal guards out front and a skeleton crew inside. Yet, it was clear the Rissi had anticipated their arrival, and they had walked straight into an ambush. The entire gang had been waiting for them, with Donovan himself present—a nasty surprise, given that he was supposed to be halfway across the city.

  Donovan was a vicious leader who had propelled the Rissi to new heights of infamy. His connections allowed the gang to thrive in the drug trade, and now they were deeply entrenched in the slave trade, a scourge on the vulnerable citizens of the Prims.

  Damian’s disdain for the Rissi was well known. He had severed ties with any group associated with the vile business of slavery, escalating tensions between them and the Rissi. Since then, a cold war had simmered, both sides waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Jay’s latest intel had uncovered even darker secrets lurking within the Rissi’s clubs—secrets involving children. For Damian and his allies, that was a line that could not be crossed. They had been waiting for a chance to cripple the Rissi’s operations, and this should have been that moment. Instead, they were left reeling.

  If it hadn’t been for Ally’s magic, most of them would be dead. The one silver lining had been the look of shock on Donovan’s face when they managed to teleport away from the chaos.

  Ally sat beside Jay, her gnome frame slightly taller than average. Blood stained her short, cropped blonde hair, and bruises marred her torso, evidence of the fight.

  Damian’s attention shifted to his side, where an arrow had lodged between two ribs just thirty minutes earlier. It had nearly taken him out of the fight. If not for Shadow’s exceptional healing, he would be dead.

  He glanced at Shadow, who was tending to Scarlet’s broken arm. The sight was both bitter and a bit humorous: Scarlet, a small humanoid with black hair, canine ears, and fangs, was snarling in pain, while Shadow, a hulking orc with pale grey-green skin, worked with a soothing presence as he carefully bandaged her injury.

  Damian turned away, his heart heavy with concern for Rem, who lay motionless in a corner, the most injured of them all after taking a brutal blow to the head. Shadow had done what he could, but now it was a waiting game.

  The tension in the room was palpable. A few moments passed before the door swung open, and Lacey stepped in, dragging a bound figure behind her.

  “Got him!” she declared, her fierce spirit shining through despite the gravity of the situation.

  The team shifted, alert and ready, as Lacey pulled Kith to a halt. With a swift motion, she yanked off his blindfold and gag, positioning herself behind him with her dagger poised just inches from his throat.

  Damian studied the imp, whose eyes darted around the room, wide with panic. Kith’s yellow skin had paled to a sickly grey.

  Leaning down to meet Kith’s gaze, Damian let the weight of his anger hang in the air. “Kith, that was a colossal mistake. Do you know what you sent us into?”

  “Damian, I swear I wouldn’t give you bad intel! I value my neck too much for that!” Kith stammered, desperation flooding his voice.

  Damian held his glare, scrutinizing the trembling imp. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ally nod. “What I know is that you’re in this for the money. You’d sell out your own mother if it meant a bigger payday.”

  “No! I swear, I wouldn’t! The intel was solid!” Kith’s voice shook, panic rising.

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  “Then how did the Rissi know we were coming?” Damian pressed, feeling the tension in the room escalate.

  Kith’s expression shifted, revealing a glimmer of hope. He knew that if he hadn’t already been strung up, then there was a chance he would make it out of this. “I don’t know! The information was reliable—always has been.”

  “Who was your source?” Damian demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

  “I can’t—” Kith began, panic rising in his voice.

  “Before you try to lie to me, remember Lacey has a very sharp blade right at your throat. And I can tell if you are lying to me,” Damian loomed over him and pushed a little magic into his eyes, causing the red of his pupils to glow with an eerie light.

  Damian was well aware that many were intimidated by him—his stature and reputation alone were enough to unsettle most. But when he leaned into his demonic heritage, he knew he scared not just his enemies but even some of his allies. Demons terrified most people. It wasn’t something openly discussed in polite society, but Damian didn’t grow up in polite society. He had seen how something primal inside people recoiled from him, especially when he played into the rumors and dark stories that followed his kind. And he knew how to use it to his advantage.

  It was one of his favorite tricks, taught to him years ago by a part-demon he had met on the streets. He remembered how they had scared off a group of muggers by exaggerating their demonic traits. Damian had been captivated by how effective it was. The trick wasn’t exclusive to demons—anyone could use it. But when your very presence was unsettling, it became something far more powerful.

  Right now, Damian knew he looked like every terrifying story ever told about demons come to life. He stood tall and imposing, his battle-worn body splattered with blood. His curved black horns gleamed faintly in the low light, sharp and menacing. His skin, already tinted with a faint red hue, appeared even more sinister under the shadows, while his eyes—black sclera with glowing red irises—burned with an otherworldly intensity. Every inch of him screamed danger.

  He looked like a nightmare made flesh.

  Kith’s fear was palpable, his trembling so severe that Damian half expected the imp to faint on the spot. The nearby charm cast a sinister red glow, reflecting off Kith’s wide eyes, amplifying the terror already etched into his face.

  “Give me the name, Kith,” Damian growled, his voice low and menacing. “Now.”

  “S-s-seth! It was Seth- the wind sprite who hangs out at the Shaft. I swear he’s not involved with the Rissi!” Kith exclaimed, his panic escalating.

  Damian glanced at Ally, who was standing behind Kith and Lacey, out of their sight. She nodded, her expression confirming Kith’s words.

  “Quick to sell out your contacts, aren’t you?” he remarked, disdain dripping from each word.

  Kith trembled. “I wouldn’t sell you out, I swear! I know you wouldn’t hurt the kid, he's innocent in this.”

  “The kid might be, or maybe he isn’t. But you…” He trailed off. He didn’t bother to hide his smirk, flashing his long canines towards the shaking Imp.

  “Perhaps I should make an example of you, just to warn anyone else who thinks messing with us is a good idea. I don’t think you need all those fingers to do your job.” Damian unsheathed his dagger, its black blade glinting menacingly.

  “Please! I promise, I wouldn’t sell you out! I gave you what you wanted. That’s all I know, I swear.” Kith was now blubbering, fear etched across his features.

  Damian paused, allowing Kith to sweat under his scrutiny. “Maybe I’ll let you go this time, given your honesty.”

  Kith’s relief was palpable as Lacey lowered her dagger, albeit cautiously.

  With a swift motion, Lacey gagged Kith again and turned him to leave. “You know the drill,” she warned, tying the blindfold back over his eyes.

  “And Kith?” Damian called, his voice cutting through the air. The now-blinded imp hunched his shoulders, cringing at the sound. “Remember how much worse this could have been if, say, Donovan thought you had double-crossed him.” Damian let the threat hang in the air before gesturing to Lacey to take the trembling wreck out the door.

  Lacey gave Kith a gentle shove to get him moving, pressing the flat of her dagger against his neck as a pointed reminder. As she led him out, she glanced back, her mouth tightening when her eyes locked with Damian's. She kept a firm grip on Kith, and Damian knew she’d lead him in a few disorienting circles before dropping him off a few blocks away. No need for him to figure out exactly where their hideout was- or the ways to get in.

  Kith may have been truthful this time about not selling them out, but there were people who would pay handsomely for details about Damian's operation. With enough money or muscle behind them, Kith might be convinced to tell all.

  Once they were gone, Scarlet chuckled, the tension in the room breaking. “Damn, Boss, did you see his face? I thought he was going to piss himself!”

  “Maybe I was a bit harsher than usual,” Damian admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Maybe?” Ally chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t even let him know you had a truth ward running. You knew he wasn’t lying the first time he said it.”

  “I did what needed to be done,” Damian said pointedly. “Some people know how to work around a truth ward.” He glanced meaningfully at Ally, one of the few people who could cast such powerful wards—and who also had a talent for skirting the truth when it suited her. Doubly so when she knew someone was detecting it.

  “I needed to see if there was something else he was hiding. I’d trust that weasel to assume magic was at play and still try to save his own skin.”

  “Now,” he said, raising his voice to the team, “everyone finish up and take the rest of the night off once you’re bandaged. I’ll call you when I need you again.” His gaze lingered briefly on Rem, still unconscious, but he trusted Shadow to keep watch.

  As Damian moved toward the stairs, Jay caught his eye. Before Damian could say anything, Jay gave a slight shake of his head and flashed a quick signal—3-0. Damian understood what he needed- thirty minutes. Jay wasn’t fond of secrecy, so it was interesting that he didn’t want the team to know about their upcoming conversation. Not wanting to draw attention to the silent exchange, Damian continued on his way without pausing, his eyes scanning the team as he went, assessing for any injuries that might’ve been missed.

  As his team resumed tending to their wounds, Damian ascended the stairs to his office, each step a reminder of the pain still lingering from their encounter. The movement jostled his side, bringing his attention to the blood caking his abdomen.

  He winced as he pulled his shirt away from the bandage on his side, the fabric sticking slightly to the wound. The staircase creaked under his weight, a relic from the rickety nature of their hideout. He reached the door to his office, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open.

  The room was dimly lit, the shadows pooling in corners like secrets waiting to be uncovered. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. The adrenaline from the encounter with Kith was still coursing through him, but the anger had begun to fade into a simmering resolve.

  He sat there for a few minutes, taking the only breather he would allow himself tonight. He needed to figure this out. This failure was on him. He pushed for this operation and it almost got one of them killed. With the state Rem was in, it still could.

  A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Damian didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.