The warehouse had long since fallen silent after the gunfire. Only the whisper of the wind slipping through broken panes interrupted the darkness. Somewhere far away, a stray dog barked, its echo distorted by the industrial skeletons surrounding the compound. Inside, the air smelled of gunpowder and rust, of secrets hidden too long.
Damien stood still in the dim light, one shoulder pressed against the cold concrete wall. His shirt was smeared with grime from their earlier scuffle with Vargos’ men. He went to a lead this morning before the schedule of interrogation for Vergeris. Hoping to get more leads but he failed. Now he's pissed off. And he won't let Vergeris go this time, until that man tells him everything.
His heartbeat had steadied, but the adrenaline hummed just beneath his ski
