Damien’s pov:
Silas was smart. He loved to make a man doubt himself before he finally moved in for the kill.
But tonight, the doubt was over.
I stood in front of a warehouse that looked exactly like all the others—crumbling metal walls, shattered windows, and a roof that looked ready to cave in. If it weren't for the tiny details, I might have walked right past it.
It was too quiet. Too clean.
I raised my fist, and my men stopped instantly.
"Thermal is picking up movement inside," A guard’s voice crackled in my earpiece. "One person. They look weak."
My chest felt tight. Gideon.
I didn't wait for my men. I pushed the heavy door open myself.
The smell hit me first. It was the stench of old blood, sweat, and sickness. It was darker inside than I expected, lit only by a single, flick
