Damien’s pov:
The smell of the sea hit me first.
It wasn't just salt and water. It was iron and the smell of blood that had soaked into the stone years ago and never truly washed away. The coastline opened up in front of me, a jagged stretch of rocks and concrete. It’s the kind of place men choose when they don’t want forgiveness to follow them.
Luca had been right. This wasn't just a memory for her. It was the scene of a crime.
I cut the engine far enough away to avoid noise and took the rest on foot, my boots sinking slightly into damp sand. I counted breaths, steps, angles. There were too many blind spots here. Too many places to hide men who believed fear was a weapon. My body remembered this terrain even if my mind refused to put a name to it. The warehouse stood there, half-coll
