The warehouse loomed like a beast in the dark, its rusted steel doors yawning open as if daring Damian to step inside and face whatever waited in its hollow chest. Rain whipped down in harsh, icy streaks, soaking through his shirt, plastering the thin fabric to the hard lines of his body. The storm didn’t deter him; if anything, the cold steadied him, sharpened him. Tonight, he needed to be colder than the rain, harder than the steel, deadlier than the shadows breathing around him.
Because he wasn’t here to negotiate.
He was here for blood.
He was here for Viktor.
His boots echoed across the concrete as he stepped inside, each footfall measured, heavy, and reverberating through the cavernous hall like the drumbeat of a war he didn’t intend to lose. The air smelled of rust and old secre
