Date: October 14, 202
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6:30 AM – THE WEIGHT OF A DECISION
Damien sat on the edge of the motel bed, staring at the photograph.
The warehouse.
The coordinates.
“You have one chance.”
It was bait—a trap laid in plain sight. But he had no choice. If this was tied to Jonathan Blackwood, then the only way to get answers was to walk straight into the fire.
Isaac paced by the window, peeking through the curtains. “This is insane, Damien. They killed Corday right in front of us. They wiped our system clean. And now they’re practically daring you to show up?”
Damien remained silent.
Isaac sighed, rubbing his temples. “You really don’t care if you live or die, do you?”
Damien glanced at him. “If I don’t solve this case, I’m already dead.”
Isaac clenched his jaw. “Fine. But we go in prepared.”
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7:15 AM – A DANGEROUS ALLY
Before heading to the warehouse, Damien made one more stop.
A dimly lit bar, tucked between abandoned buildings. Inside, the scent of alcohol and stale cigarettes hung thick in the air.
At the far end sat a woman with platinum blonde hair, absently twirling a knife between her fingers. Valerie Cruz.
Ex-military. Black market arms dealer. And one of the few people Damien actually trusted.
Valerie looked up and smirked. “Well, if it isn’t the world’s most stubborn detective. What do you need?”
Damien slid the photograph across the table. “Weapons. Intel. A way in and out.”
Valerie studied the image, her expression darkening. “You’re stepping into some serious shit, Damien.”
“I already know that.”
She sighed, then stood up, grabbing a duffel bag from behind the bar. “Fine. But you owe me.”
Damien took the bag, checking the contents—handguns, extra magazines, a tactical knife, and a small comms device.
Isaac whistled. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Valerie smirked. “Smart man.”
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8:30 AM – THE WAREHOUSE OF SECRETS
The warehouse was exactly as it appeared in the photograph—rusted metal, shattered windows, and a heavy silence that sent chills down their spines.
Damien and Isaac crouched behind an abandoned truck a few yards away.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“I count two guards at the main entrance,” Isaac whispered.
Damien pulled out his suppressed pistol. “Then we go in quiet.”
Isaac swallowed. “We always go in quiet. We never leave quiet.”
Damien gave a small smirk. “Let’s change that today.”
They moved swiftly. The first guard never saw it coming—Damien’s blade slid across his throat before he could react. Isaac took down the second with a silenced shot to the temple.
They dragged the bodies into the shadows and slipped inside.
The warehouse was empty.
No crates. No machinery. Just a single wooden chair in the middle of the floor.
And on it—
A ticking clock.
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8:35 AM – THE MESSAGE
The clock was old-fashioned, its hands set to 8:37.
Two minutes.
Isaac tensed. “Damien, this is bad.”
Damien ignored him and knelt beside the chair. Something was carved into the wood.
"Your past is a lie."
Before he could process it—
A beep.
Damien’s eyes snapped to the clock.
The second hand stopped moving.
Shit.
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8:37 AM – THE EXPLOSION
The force of the explosion sent them flying. The warehouse doors blew off their hinges, fire and debris swallowing the space.
Damien hit the ground hard, ears ringing.
Smoke filled his lungs. His vision blurred.
Isaac coughed beside him, struggling to get up. “MOVE!”
Damien forced himself to his feet, dragging Isaac toward a broken exit. Flames licked at their heels.
They barely made it out before the entire structure collapsed.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—Damien noticed something on the ground near the wreckage.
A black envelope. Untouched by the flames.
He picked it up, his pulse pounding.
Inside was a single Polaroid.
Of his father.
And written beneath it—
"Find the truth, or die trying."
8:45 AM – SMOKE AND SHADOWS
Damien’s grip tightened on the Polaroid. His father’s face stared back at him, frozen in time. The words beneath it burned into his mind:
"Find the truth, or die trying."
Isaac coughed violently, trying to clear the smoke from his lungs. “Damien… tell me we didn’t just walk into a setup for nothing.”
Damien didn’t answer. His mind was racing.
Someone wanted him to see this. Someone wanted him to know.
Isaac groaned, pushing himself up from the rubble. “We need to move before the cops show up.”
Damien flipped the Polaroid over.
There was another message.
"Your father knew the truth.
But he was too afraid to face it."
A cold chill ran down Damien’s spine. His father had died under mysterious circumstances when he was a teenager. A heart attack, they said. No autopsy. No investigation. Just a closed case.
But what if it had been something else?
What if it had been murder?
Isaac frowned. “What is it?”
Damien stuffed the Polaroid in his pocket. “We need to go. Now.”
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9:10 AM – A FAMILIAR THREAT
They drove in silence. The tension in the air was suffocating.
Damien’s hands were tight on the wheel, his mind drowning in a flood of memories. His father’s funeral. The hushed whispers. The way his mother never spoke about it.
And now—this.
Isaac finally broke the silence. “This is personal, isn’t it?”
Damien’s jaw tensed. “It was always personal.”
Isaac sighed. “Alright. What’s the plan?”
Damien took a sharp turn down an alley. “We find out who left that message. And we start with the one person who knows how to disappear.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “And who’s that?”
Damien’s eyes darkened.
“Jonathan Blackwood.”
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9:30 AM – THE CALL
As soon as they parked, Damien pulled out an old, battered phone. A burner. Only a handful of people had the number.
He dialed.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then, a voice answered. Smooth. Amused. Dangerous.
“Damien Hale. I was wondering when you’d call.”
Damien’s grip tightened on the phone. “Where the hell are you, Blackwood?”
A low chuckle. “Now, now. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“Cut the crap. You knew about this, didn’t you?”
Silence. Then—
“I warned you, Damien. Some questions aren’t meant to be answered.”
A flicker of something dark passed through Damien’s eyes. “I don’t care.”
Blackwood sighed. “Then I suppose it’s time for you to learn the truth.”
A pause.
Then, in a voice that sent chills down Damien’s spine, Blackwood said:
“Come find me.”
Click.
The line went dead.