It looks like a place where ghosts come to stretch their legs.
“Jesus Christ,” Cole mutters, spinning in a slow circle. “This is how horror movies start.”
“Then you’ll die first,” Mats says flatly.
“Worth it.”
Damian ignores them all. He prowls forward, scanning the space like a wolf scenting blood. There’s old cargo stacked against one wall, metal beams crossing the ceiling, iron benches bolted to the floor. Rope. Rusted weights. Enough debris for a man like Damian to turn it into torture.
And he does.
“Petrov—bars. Pull-ups until failure.”
Viktor grunts once and obeys.
“O’Rourke—benches. Tricep dips. Don’t stop.”
Shane groans but starts muttering curses under his breath, already moving.
“Vance—cargo stacks. Jumps. High. Fast.”
Cole gapes. “Captain, you’re insane.”
Damian arches a brow. “Go.”
Cole goes.
“Mercer.” His voice cuts through the space like a blade. My chest jerks, head snapping up.
“You’re with me.”
By the time the weather outside has shifted from thunder to pounding rain, every single Reaper is crawling. Cole’s collapsed over the cargo, muttering about writing his will. Shane’s still chanting curses between gasps. Mats is pale with sweat, Viktor’s dripping like he swam through the Volga, Tyler’s sprawled on the floor wheezing like a dying animal.
And Damian’s still standing. Smiling faintly. Watching us drown under his command like it’s the best day of his life.
I’m wrecked. Drenched. Shaking. But every time I falter, he’s there—steady hand at my back, calm voice in my ear.
“Again, Mercer. Good. Again.”
I don’t stop. I can’t. Not when he’s watching. Not when his smile says he’ll make a legend out of me, even if it kills me first.
“Enough.”
The sound of it slices cleaner than any whistle. The groans, the curses, the labored breaths—they all taper off.
Cole groans louder than the thunder. “Oh, thank Christ—” He immediately faceplants, arms spread wide on the concrete like he’s offering himself to the ghosts. “Leave me here. Tell my family I died beautiful.”
Mats kicks at his ankle without looking. “You were never beautiful.”
“Heartless,” Cole moans, limp.
I’m staggering forward on legs that don’t belong to me anymore, body buzzing, ribs aching. My boot catches on Cole’s sprawled leg and I nearly eat it face-first.
“Jesus—fuck—” I stumble, arms flailing, heart dropping like I’m going to hit the floor.
Except I don’t.
Because his hand is there again.
