Hell's got a new zip code—and it starts with 9-0-fu**ing-2-1-0. Los Angeles, 1987. Cops don't play by the rules. Dealers don't fear the law. And something old, hungry, and unspeakably evil is bleeding through the cracks in the pavement. Detectives Jonny Reese and Eddie Long thought they were chasing a drug pipeline. But when a street bust leads to mutilated bodies, occult symbols, and whispers of demons wearing human skin, they find themselves knee-deep in a conspiracy so vile it makes the city's gang wars look like playground scuffles. Menendez—slick, savage, and untouchable—is the king of LA's underworld. But he's not the only thing crawling out of the shadows. The rich are drinking blood. The stars are casting spells. And the devil just walked into Beverly Hills wearing a tailored suit. This isn't just another case. It's a war for the soul of the city. And the bodies are starting to stack. If Lethal Weapon banged The Exorcist in the back of a Camaro and raised the kid on Scarface and Mötley Crüe—this is that story.