The radio crackles again, louder this time, and Damian steps closer to the counter, every line of his body tightening as if bracing for impact.
“Team three inside,” the voice reports. “Structure clear so far. Proceeding with sweep.”
I stand frozen in the center of the room, hands curled against my sides, heart thudding too fast. The warehouse I thought I had buried in memory is now being explored by armed men who have no idea what kind of person shaped it into something more violent than a forgotten building.
Damian listens, jaw locked. Each word from the radio feels like a trigger waiting to be pulled.
Soft footsteps approach behind us. One of the guards moves to the far corner of the penthouse, trying to look busy without disturbing whatever storm is forming around Damian. Even he ca
