The roof was high enough to keep him distanced from the constant flow of the streets, but not so isolated as to obscure what truly mattered. Damon stood near the edge, his body motionless, his eyes fixed on the building across the narrow street.

There was no visible tension in him, no apparent impatience, but there was focus. A cold, direct focus that wasn’t distracted by the movement around him.

Below, the neighborhood continued its usual rhythm, people coming and going, businesses operating, guards passing by at irregular intervals.

To any ordinary observer, it was just another active point in the city.

To him, it was a possible core of something that needed to be removed.

Ester was a few steps behind, leaning against the base of a stone structure, her arms crossed as she also observed the place, but differently. Where Damon saw targets, she saw patterns.

Entrances, exits, frequency of movement, small inconsistencies. Her gaze was no less attentive, just more focused.

She observed the smallest details, such as the time it took a person to leave, the way certain individuals avoided eye contact, the discreet presence of men always positioned in the same spots.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke first, without taking her eyes off the building.

"Is this really necessary?" The question didn’t carry direct opposition, but it wasn’t just curiosity either. It was assessment. She wanted to hear the full justification, not the short answer.

Damon didn’t look away.

"It’s about the Duchess," he replied directly, as if that alone were enough. He paused briefly before continuing. "If this is connected to her, then it’s not optional. It’s something that needs to be identified and eliminated."

Ester tilted her head slightly, absorbing the answer without immediately objecting.

"Eliminate is a broad word," she commented, still in the same neutral tone. "Are you talking about stopping the distribution or eliminating everyone involved?"

Damon let out a soft sound through his nose, almost a humorless laugh.

"If necessary, everything." He finally shifted his gaze for a moment, analyzing movement at the side entrance of the building before returning to the main point. "It makes no difference keeping parts of something like this functioning. Either you cut it off at the root, or you come back later."

Ester nodded slowly, like someone who had already expected this response but wanted confirmation.

"That makes sense," she said. "Especially considering the type of substance we’re dealing with." She uncrossed her arms for a moment, resting one hand on her chin. "This ’Deluge’ isn’t something you partially control. Either you stop it, or it spreads."

Silence returned for a few seconds, but it wasn’t empty. It was the kind of occupied silence where both were processing the environment and the possibilities. A group of three men entered the building, all with similar postures, avoiding eye contact with those around them. Damon followed the movement until the door closed behind them.

"That confirms something," he murmured.

Ester followed his gaze. "It confirms the pattern," she corrected. "But it doesn’t confirm the function yet."

Damon didn’t respond immediately. He observed for a few more seconds, assessing the flow. "Cherry doesn’t usually get these details wrong," he finally said. "If she pointed to this place, it’s because there’s something here."

Ester shrugged slightly. "I’m not saying she’s wrong. Just that we haven’t seen enough to act without a margin of error."

Damon turned his face slightly in her direction. "Margin of error doesn’t change the final result."

Ester held his gaze for a second before returning to observe the building. "It changes the cost," she replied simply.

He didn’t retort this time. He just refocused on the location.

Time passed.

Slowly.

Steadfastly.

An hour had already dragged on since they arrived there, and the pattern was beginning to repeat itself more clearly. People came and went at irregular intervals, but left with different expressions. Some more tense, others strangely relaxed, some completely disoriented. It wasn’t something striking enough to catch the attention of passersby, but to those observing closely, the difference was evident.

Ester let out a soft sigh, uncrossing her arms again. "We’ve been here for an hour already," she said, finally verbalizing what was already obvious. "And the pattern is consistent."

Damon nodded, without looking away. "Yes."

She leaned slightly forward, taking a closer look at a woman who had just exited the building, walking slightly unsteadily. "Functional entrance, altered exit," she commented. "It’s not pure storage. It’s an active distribution point."

Damon observed the same woman for a few seconds before replying. "Then we confirm."

Ester nodded. "We confirm."

Another silence.

Shorter this time.

"Do you still want to wait longer?" she asked.

Damon didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the building once more, analyzing doors, windows, possible escape routes. He was mentally mapping the space, even without having entered yet.

"No," he finally said. "We have enough."

Ester straightened her posture, stepping off the wall support. "Flat?"

Damon looked down, assessing the height of the roof in relation to the street. "Straight." She arched an eyebrow slightly. "Always straightforward."

He shrugged slightly. "It works."

Ester didn’t disagree. She just took a deep breath once, like someone preparing for the next step. "Then we go in, confirm internally, and eliminate the problem."

"Yes," Damon confirmed.

She looked at the building again, this time with a more focused gaze. "Do you want to capture someone for information, or is it not worth the effort?"

Damon thought for a second.

Short.

"If someone useful shows up, yes," he replied. "If not, it’s not worth it."

Ester nodded. "Understood."

The wind passed between them, light, carrying the distant sound of the street. Neither of them moved immediately. Not out of hesitation, but because they were both synchronizing the moment.

"You hate drugs," Damon commented, without looking at her.

Ester let out a small sigh. "Yes."

"Why?"

She hesitated for half a second before answering. "Because it’s not just physical destruction," she said. "It’s loss of control. And I don’t like things that take control away from people."

Damon nodded slightly. "That makes sense."

She glanced at him sideways. "And you?"

He didn’t hesitate. "Because it’s useful for the wrong people."

Esther gave a slight nod. "Simple answer."

"That’s enough." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Another brief silence.

And then—

Damon took a step forward, stopping at the edge of the roof. "Let’s go."

Damon didn’t hesitate after taking the first step. His body simply fell from the edge of the roof, not like someone who had lost their balance, but like someone who had chosen to descend in the most direct way possible. There was no preparation, no visible calculation in the movement, just decision. The impact against the ground was heavy, dry, absorbed by his own body without any sign of real effort. The sound immediately caught the attention of a few nearby, but none of them had time to truly react before realizing who was there.

Ester descended soon after, but differently. Her movement was controlled, reducing the impact with precision, landing lightly beside him, almost silently. The difference between the two was clear even in the descent. Where Damon ignored the impact, she managed it. Where he advanced, she calculated. Still, the moment they touched the ground, both were already aligned in the same objective.

They didn’t exchange words as they began to walk. It wasn’t necessary. The rhythm was set automatically, firm, steady steps, heading straight for the main entrance of the building. The people around noticed the approach even before understanding the reason. There was something wrong with the way Damon walked. It wasn’t open aggression, but it wasn’t neutrality either. It was intention.

Two men positioned near the door noticed first. They weren’t in uniform, but their posture betrayed their function. One of them uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, trying to block the path before even fully understanding who he was dealing with. The other stayed half a step behind, assessing.

"Closed space," said the first, in a firm tone, but not aggressive enough to be a real threat.

Damon didn’t slow down.

He kept walking as if he hadn’t heard.

The man frowned, taking another step to intercept directly. "Hey, I said—"

He didn’t finish.

Damon didn’t stop to argue. There was no warning, no gradual increase in tension. His hand simply moved, quick and direct, grabbing the man’s face before any other words could come out. The impact was immediate. The man’s entire body was pushed back with brute force, his head being the first thing to hit the wall beside the door.

The sound was dry.

His body lost strength instantly.

It wasn’t a technical strike. It was force applied without concern for restraint.

The second man reacted too late. When he tried to draw a weapon, Ester was already in motion. A sideways step, a short turn, and his arm was intercepted before he could complete the gesture. She didn’t use excessive force, just precision. His wrist was twisted at an angle that allowed no resistance, and before he could even scream, a short blow to the neck silenced any reaction.

He fell.

Without unnecessary noise.

Damon released the first man, who slid down the wall to the floor, unconscious or worse. He didn’t even look back to confirm.

"Entry confirmed," Ester said, as if reporting something technical.

Damon simply pushed the door.

The interior was different from the exterior. More closed, more controlled, with low lighting and a faint smell in the air that wasn’t immediately identifiable, but was present. People inside reacted to the sound of the door opening more forcefully than usual, and several glances turned simultaneously.

The pattern broke.

Employees, clients, intermediaries—everyone realized something was amiss.

Damon entered first.

Ester followed right behind.

Neither spoke.

The atmosphere didn’t erupt in immediate panic, but the tension rose quickly. A man further back tried to discreetly exit through a side door. Another began to slowly walk away, as if that were enough to avoid drawing attention.

Damon saw.

But he didn’t react immediately.

He was observing the space as a whole, absorbing the structure, the points of interest, the possible internal pathways.

"It’s not just distribution," Ester said softly, observing her surroundings with similar attention. "There’s an operation happening in here."

Damon nodded slightly. "Then we save time."

One of the men finally decided to act. Perhaps out of desperation, perhaps out of obligation. He lunged forward with a short, swift blade, trying to capitalize on the apparent moment of distraction.

It was a mistake.

Damon turned his body at the precise moment, intercepting the movement before the blade even completed its arc. He gripped the attacker’s wrist with enough force to completely stop the attack in mid-air.

And then he tightened his grip.

The sound of bone snapping was clear.

Effortlessly.

Without pause.

He pushed the man aside, dismissing the body as irrelevant, and continued walking inward.

Now—

There was no more doubt.

The place knew.

And reacted.

Two other men came from opposite sides, coordinated, attempting to flank. Ester moved before they completed their approach. She intercepted the first with a direct blow to the knee, knocking down his base before finishing with precision at the neck. The second tried to retreat upon realizing this, but it was too late. One step forward, one short movement, and he too was on the ground.

Damon didn’t slow down for a moment.

He moved through the space as if he were traversing something that no longer mattered. Every attempt at resistance was neutralized without visible effort, without prolonged exchange, without wear and tear.

"Funds," said Ester, looking at a reinforced door at the end of the main corridor.

Damon followed the indication without question.

The environment was now in complete functional collapse. People trying to get out, others frozen, some completely lost, not knowing what to do. None of them were a priority.

They reached the door.

Damon didn’t test it.

He just pushed.

The structure gave way on impact, opening without enough resistance to delay him.

What was on the other side confirmed everything.

Tables.

Containers.

Substances being handled.

People working.

Production.

Not on a full industrial scale, but enough to sustain continuous distribution.

Ester glanced quickly, absorbing every technical detail.

"Confirmed," she said.

Damon entered.

And paused.

For a second.

Assessing.

Then he spoke:

"Close."