Chapter Seventeen
Wyck
Skipping class wasn’t new, but this wasn’t about ditching responsibilities. This was about building something that would outlive us all.
Cliffside University could wait.
The real future? It started here.
Gage and I pulled up in silence, the asylum looming ahead like a sleeping beast with breath that still reeked of rot and rage. The cold air that rolled off it carried stories no one dared write down. And now it would be ours.
We stepped out of my car, boots crunching gravel as we approached the cracked stairs. Every window was blacked out, glass smudged with years of silence and filth. This place had been dead for nearly two decades, but I planned to raise it from the grave and crown it our sanctuary.
“How long has this place been here?” Gage asked, his voice low like the walls might answer.
“A long fucking time. And no one’s touched it in twenty years. Not since the incident.” I let that hang. No need to unpack the rumors that made people steer clear of this land. We liked ghosts. We were Devils, after all.
He glanced around, chewing the inside of his cheek. “What made you want it?”
Smart. Always asking the right questions. That’s why I’m grooming him to be my second.
“Because when shit hits the fan, and it will, we’ll need more than an old mill and party lights. We need a fortress. A place where no one gets in unless I say so. Not even God.”
His head tilted. “What about your house now?”
“That stays. It becomes Devil HQ. You, Niko, Blake, and two more I’m watching closely, you’ll run it. I want each base run like a syndicate. Everyone has a job. Every weakness exposed. Every gift sharpened to a blade.”
“We’ll need help with that kind of profiling. Women, probably.”
I smirked. “Don’t I fucking know it. I’ve got a few already in mind. Fred, Ryan, and Athens will sort through the rest. We’re gonna rebuild broken girls into something sharp.”
“Recruits?”
“No. Weapons.”
A pair of headlights flared against the asylum’s front steps, drawing our attention. The car stopped. The engine cut. And out stepped a memory, wrapped in smug and dressed in leather.
Briggs Ware.
Ex-Devil. Older. Wiser. Or maybe just better at hiding what he really wanted.
“You’re late,” I muttered.
He smiled like it didn’t matter. “You’re early.” With a flick of the wrist, he held up the key. “Shall we?”
The glass doors screeched as he forced them open by hand. No power. Not yet.
“We’ll have juice in about three…” He winked. “Two. One.”
With a deep electric groan, lights flickered to life. The entire lobby glowed, dim, yellowed, sterile. The walls were prison-gray, stained with time. Perfect.
“Damn,” Gage whispered. But this was just the surface.
“You ain’t seen shit,” Briggs said, already halfway inside. “Lobby’s just foreplay.”
I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo, firing off a text to Fred.
Me: Find someone who can cover 100 walls this ugly. Fast.
Fred: 100 rooms?
Me: Did I stutter?
Fred: Is this a trick question…
Me: Do it or I’ll let Wells redecorate your life ??
Fred: Damn. Brb.
I kept snapping pictures. Every hallway we passed screamed potential. Bloodstains on tile. Bolted doors. An old padded cell. The ghosts here didn’t scare me, they whispered.
I sent the guys our location.
Briggs arched a brow. “Is it just you two today?”
“No,” I said, right as I heard engines growl like a pack of wolves rolling in. “That’s them.”
Karter, Wells, Onyx, and Dash stormed in a second later. No hello. No questions. Just that look in their eyes like they already knew this place would bleed for us.
“We’re turning this asylum into a fortress,” I announced, arms spread. “This is where we outlive every enemy, every betrayal, every fucking war that’s coming.”
Dash grinned. “And the mill?”
“Still the playground,” I said. “But this? This is the heart.”
Wells ran his hand over the moldy banister. “It’s got a pulse.”
“Let’s wake it up.”
Because when the world came hunting for us, and it would, this place wouldn’t be a hiding spot.
It would be the battleground where The Devils of Cliffside made our last stand.
And I promise you… We never fucking lose.
Hours later, my signature bleeds across the final line of ink-stained contracts. The deal is sealed. The asylum is ours.
The birth of a kingdom. The bones of a war machine.
Briggs clasps my hand with a smirk too practiced to be genuine. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Wyck. You won’t regret this property, she’s got character.”
“Rotting walls and screaming ghosts?” I say, matching his grin. “Just my type.”
“If anything’s out of order, you’ve got my number.”
“I’ll be in touch.” And if he gave me a shit deal? He’ll answer to more than just my number.
He disappears down the drive, tires crunching over the gravel like a countdown. I watch him go, keys cold in my palm, heavy with promise.
Behind me, the Devils wait.
I turn. “You boys ready for the next phase of our empire?”
“Hell fucking yes,” they answer in perfect unison.
Good.
“Because this,” I gesture to the asylum towering behind us “, this is just the beginning.”
I lock eyes with Dash. “Security is your territory. I want it tighter than Fort Knox, and twice as deadly. Cameras on every inch. Reinforced locks on every fucking window and door. But I want more than that. I want metal shutters, like the kind on bunkers. Shit that rolls down from the ceiling, shields us from the outside world. Zombie-apocalypse style.”
He lifts a brow. “You serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Dash grins. “Say less.” He peels off to start making calls. Always the tactician. Efficient. Deadly.
“I’ve got Fred tracking down a team to repaint this hellhole,” I add. “That bland gray on every wall? No wonder people went batshit in here.”
“No shit,” Karter mutters, toeing at cracked tile. “This place looks like a suicide note.”
Onyx cracks his knuckles. “You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you? Buying this place wasn’t some impulse.”
“No. This was always the move.” I glance around at the decaying beauty of the asylum. “We’ve got too many new Devils and not enough space. I don’t want them scattered anymore. I want them here. Trained. Watched. Protected. Controlled.”
“And the trip to the furniture store with Athens?” he asks.
“Preparation. That was the first load. We’ll need more.
” I nod to Wells. “You’re up. I want contingencies.
Hidden compartments. Weapons. Escape routes.
Safe rooms. Anything and everything hidden in plain sight.
If this place gets breached, I want us five steps ahead of whoever’s dumb enough to try. ”
Wells doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. He just nods once, already ten moves ahead.
That’s the thing about us.
We're not just Devils by name.
We’re tacticians. Predators. Architects of power.
This asylum isn’t just a new hideout.
It’s a stronghold for the war we know is coming.
“Phase one is locked in,” I announce, turning toward the cracked hallway that leads deeper into our future. “But we’ve got more to build. More to prepare for. More enemies to bury.”
The Devils move behind me like shadows.
It’s time to get to fucking work.