Chapter 98 Damian
Damian
Luthor’s breath came in ragged bursts under the weight of my knee, his eyes wide now, the mask of control stripped away. I pressed the rifle harder against his jaw, my voice low and final.
“It’s over.”
“Not…for long,” he rasped, spittle flecking his lips. “You cage me, another man takes my place. You cut one head, three more rise.”
I leaned in close, my mouth to his ear. “Then I’ll cut them all.”
Oliver moved in, rifle still trained on the shadows. “Damian—enough. Put him down and let’s move before more of his men flood in.”
With a shove, I yanked Luthor to his feet. He staggered, coughing, but I dragged him forward by the collar of his suit. His pistol lay forgotten on the floor. Oliver snapped a set of flex cuffs around his wrists, jerking them tight behind his back.
Gage’s voice cracked over comms. “Perimeter’s clean—for now. But we’ve stirred the nest. We need to roll before backup swarms this place.”
“Copy,” I said, hauling Luthor toward the exit. He resisted, a weak, pathetic attempt at digging his heels into the concrete, but the fight had bled out of him the moment the feed went live.
Cyclone’s voice carried a note of triumph. “Transmission’s secure. Command has the files, and the footage of our friend here getting his ass handed to him. Every corrupt cop, every dirty politician tied to his bankroll just got exposed.”
Luthor’s face twisted, fury and fear tangling together. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” he spat, his voice breaking.
“Oh, I do,” I growled, shoving him through the wreckage of the compound. “I’ve just gutted your empire. And I’ll be right there to grind the ashes if anyone tries to rebuild it.”
The team formed a tight diamond around us, rifles sweeping as we moved. The compound lights flickered back on, illuminating the chaos we’d left—bodies on the floor, servers smoking, power gutted.
When we hit the courtyard, the trucks were already rolling in, our backup securing the perimeter.
I shoved him into the back of the armored SUV, slamming the door behind him. For a moment I stood there, breath heaving, shoulder throbbing, ribs burning.
And then I thought of Morgan.
This wasn’t just another win. This was survival. This was a promise kept.
Oliver clapped my shoulder—too close to the wound, making me hiss—but his grin was wide. “Hell of a night, Damian, I didn’t know you Brits could be so fun. You caged the devil himself.”
I glanced back at the SUV where Luthor sat shackled, his empire collapsing in the rearview mirror. “Devil or not,” I said, “he bleeds like every other man.”
And as we pulled away from the compound, the rising sun cut through the haze, sharp and blinding.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like dawn meant something.