Cheetah and Kent exchanged uneasy glances. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but the fear in their eyes said it all. They glanced over at Damian, quietly assessing their options.
Could they really trust him? Honestly, they weren’t sure anymore. But what choice did they have? Leaving now would be suicide.
Sure, they might make it out of this warehouse, but the real problem was what waited for them outside. The Ford family. Escaping their reach? That was damn near impossible.
Both Cheetah and Kent had made their name in Hiphia, but the Ford family’s influence stretched far beyond anything they could muster. Their friends wouldn’t be enough to save them.
That fear, that looming shadow of the Ford family, kept their feet planted.
Running was futile.
At least for now, sticking with Damian seemed like their only shot. Who knows? Maybe he could actually pull this off.
Damian, for his part, didn’t seem fazed. He stood tall, his cold exterior unshaken. That calm, confident look on his face gave Cheetah and Kent just enough hope to stay put.
But inside, Damian wasn’t quite as calm as he looked. Kayden’s silent march towards him was unnerving, to say the least. Still, Damian wasn’t the kind of man to back down. Not now, not ever.
From the moment he walked out of that hellhole, he hadn’t met a single soul who could challenge him. He didn’t expect to meet one today, either.
He’d known Georgia’s husband wouldn’t be some pushover. A man with underlings like that wasn’t just any regular guy. No, Kayden was dangerous.
But even though Damian hadn’t expected him to be this good, he wasn’t surprised.
Kayden hadn’t said a word. His eyes, cold and deadly, were locked on Damian as he continued to close the distance between them, step by step.
Damian frowned. Was this guy deaf or just stupid? He glanced at Georgia, bound and helpless, before shifting his gaze back to Kayden. His voice was deliberate, cutting through the tension.
“I’m from Devil’s Gorge.”
Those words hung in the air like a dark cloud.
Devil’s Gorge-a place most men would rather die than be sent to. It wasn’t a prison. It was a nightmare, a death sentence with extra steps. The worst of society’s scum were sent there, the kind that even death didn’t seem fitting for. Few ever made it out alive. Those who were sent there? They would’ve preferred the noose. At least the execution was quick.
In Devil’s Gorge, death came slowly, painfully. People went mad in there. It wasn’t just the hunger, the isolation-it was the way the place stripped you of your humanity.
Some prisoners gnawed off their own limbs, desperate for food. Others killed their closest friends just to survive another day. The unlucky ones? They lost their minds the moment they walked in, taking their own lives in the most horrific ways imaginable.
If, by some miracle, you managed to walk out of Devil’s Gorge, you didn’t leave as the same person who went in. No, you came out hollow, barely clinging to what was left of your soul.
Damian had been sent there ten years ago for crimes so heinous they didn’t even bother with a trial. They just shipped him off, expecting him to die there. And he had, in a sense. The man who came back wasn’t the same one who went in. He’d died a long time ago in that pit.
What returned was something else, something far more dangerous.
He wasn’t mentioning Devil’s Gorge to brag. He was using it to intimidate the man in front of him.
But Kayden didn’t even blink. The name meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about Damian’s past or what kind of hell he’d survived.
None of it mattered.
All Kayden cared about was the present-about the people who had hurt his wife and killed his men. And those people? They were going to die.
Damian was at the top of that list.
Kayden’s expression didn’t change as he continued to move forward, his steps measured and deliberate.
Damian’s confidence wavered for the briefest of moments. He could see now-Kayden wasn’t here for a conversation.
No deals.
No negotiations.
Fine. If there was going to be a fight, so be it.
Damian clenched his fists, his single eye narrowing as he prepared himself. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But if Kayden thought he could kill him without a fight, he was in for a surprise.
Kayden suddenly stopped about fifteen feet from Damian, his eyes cold, his voice sharp as ice. “Was it you who killed Britton Foster?”
Damian’s brow twitched in annoyance. This guy had been ignoring all his questions up till now, and now he wanted answers? How ironic. Damian had no intention of obliging him.
Kayden’s gaze darkened, and his voice dropped another octave, the words dripping with lethal intent. “I asked you-was it you who killed Britton Foster?”
The question hung heavy in the air, but this time, Kayden’s presence felt suffocating.
The silence between them crackled with tension, and the air seemed to grow colder.
Damian could feel its weight pressing down on him like a giant hand squeezing his chest.
Instinctively, Damian took a step back, swallowing hard before smirking defiantly. “Yeah, I killed him. And he should’ve thanked me for it-it’s the greatest honour he ever got in his miserable life.” His eyes narrowed as he clenched his fists. “But who the hell are you? Let’s see if you’re even worth my time.”
A slow, almost predatory smile crept across Kayden’s face, and for a second, his face twitched as if struggling to contain the fury beneath. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low and menacing that it sounded like it came from the depths of a grave.
“A dead man doesn’t need to know my name.”
The words hit like a death sentence.
To Kayden, Damian was already gone, but a ghost was still standing upright. From the moment he’d taken Britton’s life, from the second he’d laid hands on Georgia, he’d signed his own death warrant.
Kayden was just here to deliver the final blow.
Damian’s lip curled in rage. “You arrogant piece of-” He lunged forward, fist clenched, his body surging with raw power. “You’re the one who’s dead!”
He threw a punch with everything he had, his knuckles cutting through the air with a sharp whistle.
It was a strike that would’ve sent most men crashing to the floor, but Kayden wasn’t most men.
Without even blinking, Kayden shifted, leaning just enough for the punch to miss him by inches. His movement was so effortless, it was like he’d barely bothered to dodge.
Before Damian could recover, Kayden’s fist shot forward, burying itself in his chest with a solid thud. It felt like punching a brick wall.
Damian chuckled, a low, mocking sound. “That’s it? That’s the punch everyone’s so scared of? You gotta be kidding me.”
Kayden’s expression didn’t change. His eyes, cold as ever, narrowed slightly as he drew back his fist and struck again.
This time, the impact was different. The force of the blow sent Damian staggering backwards, his grin fading as he fought to catch his breath.
Stumbling, Damian quickly steadied himself. His chest heaved as he ripped off his vest with a single motion, revealing a body covered in scars-battle wounds from fights that had nearly killed him. The skin was marked with deep cuts, burns, and bullet holes, each one a testament to his survival.
He glanced down at his chest, and then back at Kayden, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You see this? My body has been through hell and back. Every scar, every bruise-it’s made me stronger. My Iron Body technique is unbreakable. Do you think you can take me down? You’ve got no idea what you’re up against.”