The silence in the maintenance tunnel was thick, vibrating with the ghost of a hand that hadn’t been there. Damien ignored me and the sealed blast door, staring only at the device in his hands, his knuckles white against the metal.
"Delete every copy," he said. His voice was quiet, stripped of its tactical edge, leaving only something weary and hollow.
"I can't," I said. My voice sounded thin in the confined space. "It’s evidence, Damien. We finally have something that isn't a shadow or a story. It’s right there."
He never argued.
Never raised his voice.
He simply reached for his own camera. He powered it off. He removed the battery with practiced, fluid efficiency. Then, with a thumb and a finger, he pried the SD card from its slot.
He held it up for a fraction of a second, a tiny p
