A Deal with the Devil

Content Warning

This chapter contains scenes with sexual violence and graphic descriptions that may be triggering or uncomfortable for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Matthew's POV:

The night was thick with silence, and I slipped through it like a predator. The cold didn't bother me—nothing did, really—as I approached the old duplex. My gloves were snug, each finger stretching, flexing, preparing for the moment I would need them.

I'd suspected something off about this teacher for a while—an ordinary man with a twisted edge. His jovial exterior hid a dark, chaotic mess beneath it. It was like watching someone slowly unravel, and honestly? I couldn't care less about his personal trainwrecks. I only care when there's something to gain.

But that day in class, he finally had my full attention. He pulled out a video—one that wasn't even online yet. And it was bad. No, worse than that—it was a bomb with the potential to explode everything we knew. A war of a scale we couldn't even imagine.

Underworld versus Nations? That wasn't just a world war.

That was an apocalypse.

What were the odds that he, of all people, had it? The teacher at Ada's school, of all places. And not only that, but he showed it to her like it was nothing—like the world wasn't hanging by a thread because of it.

It felt like we were being manipulated. Led. Controlled.

But whatever—right now, this teacher wasn't a problem. He was a tool. A lead. The only one who could untangle this mess. Or so we thought.

But if he were really as important as everyone made him out to be, he shouldn't still be breathing. Whoever set this up should've known he was a glaring flaw in their plan—a loose end they should've taken care of.

But he was still alive. And that, in itself, felt wrong.

I pushed that thought aside as I reached the door. Tonight, everything would be figured out. I didn't need answers—I had methods, and my methods never failed. This man was about to learn exactly how little mercy I had.

I didn't want to scare him off just yet, so I took my time with the lock, my fingers working skillfully. The door creaked open with ease.

And then… the stench hit me. It was like something dead, something rotting. Strong enough to make even me, the most indifferent of men, gag.

The room was chaos. Broken glass everywhere, cushions thrown around like they were nothing but trash. Piles of half-empty bottles and vomit. A goddamn nightmare.

I heard him groan. The man I had come for.

He wasn't my prey anymore. No, even the filthiest animal had more dignity than this.

I walked in, expression unchanged, making my way toward him. He was sitting there in the corner of what used to be a kitchen, but now barely resembled anything useful. A bottle of cheap beer in one hand, sloshing it down like it was his only companion. His laugh was unhinged.

This… this was what I had come for? The desperation in him sickened me.

But Ada had been clear about one thing. The five of us—only the five of us—could handle this. Nobody else. I'd agreed with her. In this game, trust was an illusion. Whoever was involved with the Storm had either gone insane or had a death wish. Both were dangerous.

When he saw me, his laugh froze. His eyes widened, then he swung his beer at me, his voice trembling.

"Alex, you bastard!" he howled, like a mad dog. "How does it feel? You know Elly's left nipple is so sensitive—when I switch it up, she melts, man. It drives me insane just thinking about it. The way she moans... god, that gets me hard!"

His disgusting, high-pitched laughter filled the room.

I didn't even blink. Just looked at him, the very picture of indifference.

"Pathetic," I muttered, letting the word cut through the noise.

For a moment, he stopped. His eyes flickered with confusion. "You… you're not Alex," he stammered. "Matthew? Is that you?"

I crouched in front of him, my face a mask of cold disinterest. "My name's not Matthew," I replied, my voice low, dangerous. "That's just an alter ego. And the one speaking to you now? Much worse."

There was a beat of silence. Then his laughter broke the stillness, this time louder, desperate.

"Matthew, my boy!" He swung his beer bottle like it was some kind of weapon, slurring. "A toast! You and me, like real men, huh? Too bad there's no whores here, but hey—you're rich. You bring the money, I'll bring the party. We'll have a good time, yeah? Heh."

I didn't respond. I felt nothing.

Without a word, I grabbed the bottle from his hand and smashed it against the wall. The glass shattered, spilling the contents across the floor. His eyes widened in horror.

I picked up a shard from the wreckage. It wasn't sharp enough for my liking, but it would do.

I turned it over in my fingers, letting the tension rise. "Don't scream," I told him, my voice like ice, as I drove the shard into his right eye, my palm slamming against his face to catch the spray of blood.

His scream was ear-piercing. He flailed, but I grabbed him by the head and smashed it into the counter until his body went limp.

Then I turned to his legs, with methodical precision. One by one, I stomped down on his knees, hearing the satisfying snap of bone as they gave way. His screams echoed, growing weaker as the pain shattered his will to resist.

"Are you taking revenge for your friend?" he gasped, his breath ragged, his voice barely a whisper. "Nigeria… my country will make you pay. The motherland will avenge me."

I looked at him like he was a madman, his words nonsense.

"Have you lost your mind, worm?" I said, cold as steel. "Africa isn't worthy of being in the same breath as the Storm. It doesn't even deserve to be spoken of in the same sentence as me."

I twisted the glass shard deeper into his eye, and he howled in agony.

"Let me tell you something, old man," I hissed, my voice ice-cold. "Africa's full of secrets—secrets that pathetic worms like you will never understand. This land is the heart of the underworld. We live here. We rule here. We walk alongside people like you because this is our turf, where no foreign power can touch us. We're untouchable because scum like you are too weak to ever challenge us."

He groaned, blood and tears falling down his face, the pain driving him to the edge of madness.

"You? You and this sorry excuse for a place are nothing more than tools to an even bigger game. A prelude to something far beyond your comprehension. A Storm climbing to the top of your government? That's the highest honor you'll ever see. All while the Storm's been laughing, playing with fools like you—serving a backwater like this. Humility from one of the world's lords? You worms have no idea what you're dealing with."

I took a step closer as he tried to crawl away, whimpering and crying, blood pooling around him, turning the floor a sickening red.

"Answer me, worm," I spat, my gaze never leaving his. "Who sent you this video? Who's pulling the strings? Another worm, or one just a bit better than you?"

"It's the tape!" he screamed, his voice cracking with terror, as though his screams could make me vanish. "It came with the sex tapes Elly sent me from Alex's phone!" he sobbed. "She sends them in batches, and the video... the video was just in there. That's all I know, I swear!"

His cries only grew more desperate, more grating, but I was already too far in to care. "Elly," I asked, my voice like steel, cutting through his sobs. "Is she your wife?"

Through clenched teeth, he choked out, "Y-yes."

I stared down at him, my expression colder than death itself. He looked up at me briefly, terror clear on his face before he quickly turned away. "Why's your wife with another man, worm?" I demanded.

His cries were a broken, guttural sound, an eerie backdrop to his blood-soaked face and the shard still sticking from his eye. His voice cracked as he started to talk, barely keeping himself together.

"I met Alex Voss at a bar," he gasped, shaking uncontrollably. "He called me over, and I couldn't refuse. He's one of the most powerful men in the country—his armed guards made sure of that. I didn't know why he chose me, but he was oddly... cheerful. We played Baccarat, and I got comfortable."

His body shook again, but I didn't flinch. My gaze never wavered.

"He had tons of money to gamble with, but I was broke. Jokingly, I said I'd use my little girl as collateral. He just smiled, told me to play. I lost. And when I tried to leave, he demanded his prize—my daughter. That's when I realized... I was fucked."

"Get to the point, worm," I snapped, growing impatient with his rambling.

His hands trembled as he pressed them to his head in complete agitation. His "good eye" was bloodshot, frantic. "I... I understood what he wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "His dick was doing most of the talking. I told him Jessy was too young—she just turned twelve, for fuck's sake. He laughed and said that was even better, that he liked them tender."

A disgust I struggled to hide surged through me. "He was a pedophile."

"Yeah," he coughed, his voice raspy. "He let me go and said he'd come for his price later. I sent Jessy away, gave her to my sister so she'd be hidden... but Elly never forgave me. When he came for her, Elly... she gave herself to him in exchange for Jessy. Now she sends me the sex tapes of their... their fucking, just to drive me insane."

"Why didn't she use her own device to send the tapes?" I raised an eyebrow, my suspicion growing. "Why the hell would she use his phone? And why would he let her send something so private?"

He coughed up blood, the words spilling out in a broken frenzy. "I don't know... maybe he took her phone. For fuck's sake, I'm dying here—please, just send me to the hospital, I don't want to go to hell yet!"

"Which device, worm? Where is it?" I asked, my patience running thin, my voice dead serious.

His teeth gritted as he squeezed out the last of his strength to answer. "The laptop... on the damn table. It's on the table!"

I locked my eyes on the laptop and his phone resting on the mahogany table, the only piece of furniture still standing in this dump. Satisfied, I turned back to him. "You've outlived your usefulness, it's time to go."

The tremble in his body gave way to full-blown panic as he begged. "Please, mercy—"

I shoved the glass shard deeper into his eye, and with that, he crumpled, lifeless.

He had been doomed the moment he showed up in class. Part of me wanted to let him wallow in the misery of his pathetic life a little longer, but in the end, he was still just a worm—no matter how desperate his cries became.

I approached the laptop, bypassing its security in seconds, hacking into his data. From his messages with Elly and the videos he received, it seemed like he'd told me the truth.

Just as I started to delve deeper, my earpiece buzzed with Luke's voice.

"Matthew, you there?" Luke asked, his voice calm with Aisha's soft giggles in the background. "How'd it go? Was the poor bastard any use?"

"His story... it's interesting," I replied, recounting everything I'd learned. "There's two ways we can play this. We can go in with force, but things could get messy. Or we can go with something more subtle, something that gets the job done cleanly."

"Code," Luke responded, and I could practically feel Aisha's tension through the earpiece.

"Aisha doesn't have to do it if she doesn't want to," I said, trying to put her at ease. "It's just one of the options."

"I'll do it," I heard Aisha's voice, tinged with annoyance. "I'm just... worried about this man, his pedophile ways... I'm still a minor, you know."

"If he steps out of line, I'll kill him," I said coldly. "But I won't need to, will I? You'll end him before I do."

"That's what I am worried about," Aisha muttered, biting her lower lip.

"Don't worry, Aisha," Luke chimed in, "Obinna will be keeping an eye on things. He'll handle it if it gets out of hand."

"Alright," she said.

"You ready?" Luke asked.

Aisha's response was a nod I could practically hear.

And then, Luke said it—the words that sealed her fate.

"Code Phantom."