Here Comes The Devil

Damon sucked on his cigar, watching Jack zip up the last body in the bag. The small room where they were was illuminated by red lights, causing more chill for anyone who passed by that door.

Even then, they could still hear the blast of music coming from the main pub as music bounced from wall to wall toward them.

Dancing and sweaty bodies gliding against each other, making it hard to pass without coming in contact with the mouth of a drunk straight to your nose If you weren't Don.

He glanced at the ceiling, blowing the smoke away. He had been here longer than usual, sorting out business, especially betrayal to the Mafia. And he was surprised there were many of them posing as loyal followers. He stared at the gun in his hand and the bodies on the floor. It came with repercussions.

Jack, cleaning his bloody hands on his suit pants, walked towards him, leaving the rest of their men to do the work. Damon offered him a cigar, and he picked one out, sniffing against the brown wrapping.

"Cap