Chapter 212: Deal with the Devil
The door slammed shut behind him with a solid thud , and Dud didn’t move. He stood there like a statue, unshaken, unreadable. His long coat hung all the way down to his boots, the cracked leather catching the flickering light from the buzzing neon outside. Shadows danced across his face, but his presence was still as cold and steady as a winter storm.
No one spoke.
The silence was heavy.
Then, finally, a voice cracked through it like someone stepping on glass.
"Wait..." Ringo said, squinting. "Is that, ? No way. That’s Dud . The Dud. From the Rejected Corps."
Snipe’s chair screeched across the concrete as he shot to his feet, pointing with wide eyes. "Nah. Nah, nah, nah . This has gotta be a joke. You’re messing with us, right? There’s no way he just walked into our headquarters like it’s nothing."
Montez’s hand twitched subtly toward his side, toward the switchblade he always kept tucked at his hip. His gaze never left Dud. It was sharp, controlled, but the tension in his shoulders said everything.
"Why," Montez said slowly, "is a top dog from the Rejected Corps standing in my meeting room?"
Only one person didn’t flinch.
Keisha.
She was already leaning back in her seat, one leg crossed over the other, her expression unreadable. Calm, as if she’d expected this moment down to the second.
"I invited him," she said coolly.
"You what ?" Ringo nearly choked on his own breath. His eyes bulged as he pointed between her and Dud. " This is the guest you were talking about the whole time? Keisha, have you lost it? Are you, have you betrayed us?"
Around the room, the Chalkline Boys tensed. They were the group’s best fighters, the backbone of their turf. And while they were clearly caught off guard by Dud’s arrival, they weren’t backing down.
They’d heard the stories, about the way Dud fought, how fast he was, how brutal, but even so, they believed in their chances. They had numbers. They had rage. And they were ready.
But that didn’t make them less nervous.
Snipe glared at Keisha like she’d grown horns. "You brought him here? He’s one of the people burning down our turf, dragging our boys into the street like they’re trash."
Dud’s lips curled ever so slightly into a chuckle. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like he was measuring the ground between enemies, each step echoing like a challenge.
"If I wanted to torch your base," he said, voice low and gritty, "you’d already be standing in smoke."
The words cut through the room like a whip.
No one answered.
Montez narrowed his eyes. "Start talking," he said. "Fast. Before someone puts a permanent outline of your body on this floor."
Dud turned his head toward Keisha. She met his eyes and gave a single, sharp nod, permission.
That was all he needed.
"I’m not here on behalf of the Corps," Dud said. His tone was even now. "I’m here for myself . Because Keisha made me an offer I couldn’t ignore."
Montez’s jaw tightened. His voice lowered. "And what kind of offer could possibly make you , of all people, betray your own gang?"
Dud didn’t blink.
"Money," he said. "A lot of it. More than I’ve seen in years. Half now, half later. Clean. Untraceable. And generous enough to make a guy like me start thinking about early retirement."
Ringo’s mouth opened like he had something important to say, but nothing came out. He looked back and forth between Keisha and Dud like they were speaking a language he didn’t understand.
"You’re seriously switching sides," he finally said, "for a payday ?"
"Are you the crazy ones for even asking that question?" Dud said, his voice calm, almost amused. "What else do we do what we do for, if not money? Every action, every risk, every rise in rank, it’s all for the payday. Don’t pretend otherwise."
He looked around the table, making sure they were listening.
"You’re already an organized group. So if I’m switching sides, I’m not just hoping for a paycheck. I want a position, something that reflects my value."
Montez scoffed, unimpressed. "And you really think we’d just let in someone who betrayed their own group?"
Dud gave a shrug, unapologetic. "You need help. And I know your enemies better than anyone . I know how they move, where they sleep, who’s climbing the ranks and who’s about to fall."
He nodded toward Keisha. "And Keisha already made it clear, if I keep things quiet, clean, and deadly, there’s more money where that came from."
Montez rubbed the bridge of his nose, the pressure of the moment sinking in.
"This is insane."
"But it works," Keisha replied simply. "He doesn’t have to wear our colors. He just has to feed us the right information. At the right time."
Snipe leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "I still don’t like it."
"You don’t have to like it," Montez said, turning to him. "But right now, the groups are even. Too even. And we need something, someone , to tilt the scales just slightly in our favor."
His eyes returned to Dud, cold and clear. "If we do this, it’s on our terms. No mess. No noise. You give us what we need, when we need it. We don’t owe you trust. Just cash."
Dud smirked, the corner of his mouth curling. "Trust is overrated. I’ll take the cash."
Montez gave a nod to Ringo. "Sort the payment. Half of what we promised. The other half comes after we see results."
"Got it," Ringo muttered, already pulling out his phone and opening the secure app they used for transfers.
"And if this goes sideways," Snipe added, voice low and dangerous, his eyes locked on Dud, "I’m the one who’ll drag your corpse right up to the Rejected Corps’ front gate. Just so we’re clear."
Dud didn’t blink.
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Crystal."
For a moment, the room settled. The tension eased just slightly. It seemed the deal was sealed.
But before anyone could change the subject, Dud lifted a hand, just enough to draw attention.
"One more thing," he said.
Everyone stilled.
Keisha raised an eyebrow. Montez leaned forward just an inch.
"If you really want to send a message to the Rejected Corps... if you want to shift the balance hard in your favor, I’ve got a name. Someone who hasn’t made a lot of noise yet, but they will. Soon. Someone who’s part of the reason you’re struggling more than you should be in this fight."
Montez narrowed his eyes.
"Who?"