Lucian stood still in the alley. The gun was pressed to his back, and the door behind them had already closed. Cold air touched his skin, but he didn't move.
His heart was beating fast. He had been scared, anyone would be, but as the seconds passed, something shifted. He started to think clearly again.
He had Hellskin.
It didn't make him unstoppable, but it gave him a chance. His body could take damage, heal fast, and tolerate pain better than most people.
It never said how many bullets he could survive, but if it wasn't a headshot, maybe he'd live. That thought gave him a little space to breathe.
He relaxed slightly, not enough to be noticed, just enough to think.
He needed money. Fast.
That was the only reason he was even here. He wasn't looking for trouble.
What he overheard in that bar wasn't just some random conversation. It was serious. A deal, maybe a heist. Something that involved guns, routes, drops, and quiet threats.
And maybe it was the kind of thing he could use.
But he couldn't just blurt out that he wanted in.
These people were on edge. From their perspective, he was a liability, someone who had overheard too much. Anything he said now would sound like a desperate plea to survive.
He had to make himself useful. He had to sound like someone they needed, not someone they were sparing.
Lucian was about to speak, but one of them beat him to it.
"Ricky, what do we do now?" the short man asked, keeping his voice low. "We can't kill him. Job's too close. We kill a guy now, everything gets messy."
Another guy immediately smacked the back of his head, clearly annoyed.
"Why the hell would you say that out loud?" he snapped.
"I'm just saying. What's the play, then?"
"I got a place," someone else offered. "We tie him up, keep him there until the job's done. Figure it out later."
"That's risky," another added. "What if someone looks for him?"
Lucian kept his face neutral, but inside, he saw an opening. He didn't wait long.
"I can help," he said. "I can help with what you're trying to do."
The group turned. A few stared. One of them narrowed their eyes.
"How much did you hear?" one asked.
Lucian didn't hesitate. He went over the plan, step by step. He listed the shipment, the East Docks, the route to Rosehill, the safehouse, the overpass drop, even the time gaps and fallback options. Everything they had discussed.
No one interrupted him. When he finished, one of the men folded his arms.
"Alright," the man said. "Go on. What help do you have?"
Before Lucian could answer, another voice cut in, the short guy again.
"Ricky, you can't be serious. Jessica, stop him."
The woman from the bar, Jessica, was standing nearby, watching carefully, but she didn't move yet.
Ricky didn't turn to Lucian. He turned to his crew. His voice was sharp.
"You know what's worse than him knowing our plan?" Ricky said. "Him knowing our damn names. You dumb fuck. Shut the fuck up."
No one argued after that.
Lucian stood quiet, waiting for his moment.
"Go on," Ricky said. "You know our plan then. What can you help with?"
Lucian paused. He didn't have training. No background in guns, logistics, or getaway driving. But that didn't matter.
He had been a salesman before all this. Not the fake kind. A real closer. He could sell cheap junk like it was gold.
He could look someone in the eye and make them believe they needed something they didn't even want.
So now, he just needed to do the same. Sell himself, plus, now he had thr help of some demonic abilities.
He nodded slowly, like he'd already thought it through.
"You've got the guns, the route, the safehouse. But I didn't hear anyone talk about front-facing work. The bar, the street, even the buyers. You got someone watching faces, talking, blending in with people?"
Ricky didn't say anything. Jessica tilted her head slightly.
Lucian kept going.
"I can talk. I know how to blend in. I'm nobody. I can stand next to a cop and not raise a flag. That's valuable."
"Sounds like bullshit," one of the guys said. "You were sitting alone. You looked nervous just being in that bar."
"I was," Lucian said. "Because I wasn't supposed to be there. But I still heard everything without getting caught until I stood up. I kept track of names, places, and times. That means I pay attention. You need someone like that."
"Or you're just good at listening," the guy muttered. "Doesn't mean you're good under pressure."
"I've worked in worse pressure," Lucian replied. "I've sold cars to people who couldn't afford rent. I've gotten screaming clients to sign contracts they didn't understand. If you think your buyers are dangerous, you've never sold a broken car to a drug dealer."
Jessica smirked a little at that. Ricky stayed unreadable.
Ricky looked at him. "You've worked under pressure? How old are you, nineteen? You don't look a day over twenty."
Lucian paused. That caught him off guard. He hadn't factored in how young he looked. Saying he had years of experience now made him sound like a liar.
He adjusted fast.
"What does my age have to do with this?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.
Ricky scoffed. "Everything. You're talking like someone who's been doing this for years."
"I never said that," Lucian replied. "I said I've worked under pressure. And yeah, I do have years of experience. Just not in what you're thinking."
Ricky raised an eyebrow. "What? Heartbreaks?"
Lucian didn't flinch. He looked at him directly. "Look, I gave you an option. A real one. I'm not begging. I'm offering. You can take it, or not. That's on you."
He didn't raise his voice or try to sound tough. He just stood there, calm, like the decision was already obvious.
There was a beat of silence. One of the guys muttered something under his breath, but no one followed up.
Lucian didn't move. He knew he didn't have leverage in truth, but he could act like he did. He wasn't asking them to spare him. He was acting like someone they'd regret saying no to.
And that confidence, even if it was fake, made them hesitate.
It was smart.