Chapter 9 The Syndicate's Shadow

There are places the sun doesn't reach.

Not because it can't.

But because it's not allowed.

The underground club in Damaros was one of them, nestled below a burnt-out hotel that never reopened, funded by offshore accounts, policed by shadows, and protected by fear.

Cain stood at the entrance, gun holstered, coat soaked.

This was where power came to forget its conscience.

Where the wealthy bought more than pleasure, they bought secrets, silence... and soldiers.

He didn't need an invitation.

He was one.

Or used to be.

Inside, smoke hung heavy in the air. Blue lights pulsed low and slow like a dying heartbeat. Masked men and silent women drank lies and danced on graves.

Cain moved through the crowd like an unseen but felt rumor.

His target sat in the VIP lounge, surrounded by bodyguards too young to know real violence.

But Cain knew him well.

Lazar Juno.

Ex-military, ex-banker,and Current devil.

One of the few men Victor had ever called necessary.

He didn't kill.

He funded those who did.

Cain slipped past the velvet rope and stood before him without a word.

Lazar looked up.

Paused.

And smiled like a man greeting a ghost.

"Well," Lazar said softly, "I was wondering when you'd crawl out of hell."

Cain didn't waste time.

"You're still backing the program."

Lazar raised a brow, sipped his drink, and said nothing.

"I saw the children," Cain growled. "I saw what they're doing in my name."

Lazar sighed, almost theatrically. "So dramatic, Cain. Always fists first, questions later."

He gestured to the empty seat across from him. Cain sat, eyes never leaving his.

Lazar leaned forward. "The program died with Victor."

"No," Cain said. "It mutated. It became the Second Dawn. Funded by shell companies. Built by survivors. Led by Malik."

Lazar didn't flinch. "And you think I helped?"

"I know you did."

Lazar tilted his head. "Why would I support something that burns the world I live in?"

Cain's voice was cold steel. "Because you don't live in it. You feed on it."

Lazar set his glass down.

"All right," he said. "Let's stop pretending. Yes. I knew what Victor was building. Yes, I helped him launder the money. Arms Labs. Ships. Minds."

He smiled.

"But I didn't create monsters. I simply... funded evolution."

Cain's fists clenched.

"You think this is evolution? Turning children into killers?"

Lazar chuckled.

"I think this is nature. Stripped of lies. The strong survive. The clever rule. The rest?" He shrugged. "Collateral."

Cain leaned in.

"You helped make me. And now you help Malik."

Lazar nodded. "Because you're yesterday's ghost. And Malik is tomorrow's war."

Cain stood.

"Where is he?"

Lazar didn't answer.

So Cain snapped the nearest bodyguard's wrist, slammed his head into the table, and repeated:

"Where. Is. He?"

Lazar smiled - blood in his teeth.

"You always were my favorite experiment."

Then he nodded toward a small device under the table.

Cain grabbed it.

A black keycard.

And a name:

Kora.

Cain blinked.

A city in the mountains.

Off-grid.

Unregulated.

The last place Victor had ever visited before disappearing.

The birthplace of the Syndicate's new experiment.

Cain didn't kill Lazar.

He let him live.

Because fear was more useful than blood.

And Cain had something worse than death to offer now:

Exposure.

Three days later, Cain and Elise crossed into Kora - through illegal tunnels lined with smuggled tech and paid-off border guards.

It was snowing.

Quiet.

But beneath the frost, something rotted.

Elise whispered as they entered the perimeter, "This is where they test them."

Cain nodded.

"They?"

She pointed to the ridge.

A camera blinks red.

"They call them Shadows. Gen-2 operatives. No names. No mercy. Indoctrinated by virtual immersion, fed Cain's missions as gospel, and trained in isolation cells. Malik trains them. Victor designed them."

Cain's stomach twisted.

"They see me as a god?"

"No," she whispered. "As a blueprint."

They reached the compound just before midnight.

It looked like an abandoned monastery: stone, cracked windows, and silence.

But Cain saw the heat signatures. Dozens.

Children.

Teenagers.

All armed.

All blind to innocence.

He turned to Elise.

"You stay here."

She grabbed his arm. "No."

"This place eats people like you."

She didn't let go.

"Then I'll make it choke."

They breached the gate silently.

Cain moved like a phantom, disabling two guards, slipping past the checkpoint, and sweeping corridors with a trained eye.

They reached the central hub.

Computers.

Monitors.

And in the middle - a chamber.

Steel.

Glass.

Inside it, suspended in cryostasis...

Victor.

Cain froze.

His heart stopped.

Victor's body floated, pale and preserved. Wires in his skull. Tubes in his veins.

"Is he alive?" Elise whispered.

A voice answered behind them.

"No. But his mind is."

Cain turned.

Malik.

Standing calm, arms open.

Grinning.

"This is where gods go to sleep," he said. "Victor's body is nothing. But his thoughts live on. His algorithms. His systems. His plans."

Cain stepped forward.

"You're using his mind to build a new army."

"No," Malik said.

"I'm using yours."

He snapped his fingers.

A panel slid open.

Screens lit up.

Footage of Cain.

Old missions. Assassinations. Tortures. Betrayals.

The children had been watching him for years.

Worshipping him.

"Victor made you a killer," Malik said softly. "I made you a myth."

Cain stepped closer, voice shaking. "You made me a liar."

Malik's grin vanished.

"No, Cain. You made me. You left me behind. You left us all. You chose to run. I chose to rise."

Cain raised his gun.

"Then choose this."

But before he could shoot, the stasis tank beeped.

Victor's eyes opened.

Blue.

Dead.

Alive.

Cain's hand trembled.

And Victor smiled.