Page 92 of Dance With A Devil
Wyck and I step through the doors like ghosts returning to a place that never really forgot us. Connie, the front desk banshee, greets us with that snake oil smile of hers.
“Evening, boys. Here to see Liam?”
Wyck flashes her that devil-may-care charm that always seems to work on women like her. “We’ve got some… unfinished business.”
She nods, eyes glinting with unspoken understanding. Everyone in this place plays a role, even the ones who pretend they don’t. Connie isn’t just a secretary. She’s Liam’s first line of defense and his personal reaper dispatcher.
“I’ll let him know you’re here. He’s downstairs…” she adds with a sly smirk, already canceling tonight’s appointments before disappearing into the back.
I shoot Wyck a look. “You sure this is the guy?”
He doesn’t even glance my way. “This is where Liam’s superpower shines. Just wait.”
The hallway is long and lined with locked doors, quiet tombs for the broken. At the end, Wyck pushes through an unmarked door that leads to a narrow stairwell. The deeper we go, the louder the screaming gets.
Music to my goddamn ears.
When we enter the basement, it smells like sweat and rot and scorched metal. A symphony of blood. And there he is, LiamHolster, former Devil of Cliffside, now resident mind-fucker and part-time executioner.
“Wyck. Wells. What brings you boys to my playground?” Liam doesn’t even bother turning around. He’s busy peeling the soul out of a man strapped to a steel chair, flesh torn and weeping.
“Please! Stop it!” the man howls.
Liam slaps him across the face. “You knew the cost of betrayal. You knew the price of picking the wrong side.”
I step closer. Blood’s dried in thick layers on the floor like paint. The man’s name is Barron. That hits. I’ve heard it before.
“Barron?” I echo. “Ain’t that the pig that disappeared years ago?”
“Dirty cop. Former Devil,” Briggs answers from the shadows. “Should’ve rotted in the Wastelands. Instead, he’s been living like a fucking king.”
Wyck cocks his head. “Please tell me you’re not working for my father too, Barron.”
Barron lifts his head, defiant. “You little fucks think you’re running shit. Your fathers are the real power here. You’re nothing but shadows playing gangster.”
I grin. “Funny. You won’t be laughing when we carve your tongue out and feed it to the dogs.”
Wyck ignores the outburst. “Liam, what’s he told you?”
“Not much. But I’ve barely warmed up.” Liam grins, licking blood from his knuckles.
Barron spits at him. “You’re all fucking insane.”
Wyck crouches, jabbing a finger deep into one of Barron’s fresh wounds. He doesn’t scream, but his body jerks, and that’s enough.
“You won’t live long enough to tell anyone what you’ve seen. You should’ve picked our side, pig.”
Barron roars, “Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you.” I snarl, spitting in his face. “You rats always bark loudest before the blade hits bone.”
Liam steps forward, pulling out his phone and hitting a button. It dials instantly.
“Yes, sir?” a distorted voice answers.
“You in position?”
“Yes.”
