The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, mingling with the distant clatter of pipes. Concrete walls closed in, the air heavy with dust and the faint tang of oil. Every step I took echoed sharply, bouncing off the metal grates underfoot.
Footsteps heavier, measured, deliberate approached from the shadows. I froze, letting the sound fill the space, counting, mapping, weighing.
"Dylan," a voice said, low, cold, cutting through the cavernous silence.
I turned. A figure emerged from the dim corner, trench coat swaying, eyes sharp enough to pierce steel. The Detective. Finally. Not the man I expected to see here, but exactly the one who should have been.
"You weren't supposed to come this far," he said, each word deliberate, each syllable a warning.
I smirked, leaning casually against a support beam, pretending to examine the cracked concrete. "Guess my GPS was a bit off," I said, voice dripping sarcasm. "Or maybe I just enjoy trespassing in restricted areas."
He didn't blink, didn't flinch. Footsteps shifted slightly subtle, almost imperceptible but I noticed. He circled me slowly, like a predator pacing a cornered rat.
Metallic clang something sliding against a pipe.
"You're lucky the Syndicate hasn't noticed you yet," he said, voice flat, almost bored. "But luck runs out. And curiosity… curiosity is lethal."
I laughed softly, though it didn't reach my eyes. "Lucky, huh? Funny. I thought survival was about observation, not luck."
He stopped, standing just a few feet away. His presence filled the chamber, the kind of presence that reminded you someone could erase you without a second thought. I studied him every twitch, every shadow of movement. Nothing wasted. Everything calculated.
A faint hum of machinery vibrated through the floor, a reminder that this place, these Veins, had eyes everywhere, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
"Then stop me," I said, letting my voice carry a challenge, a taunt.
He didn't move, didn't respond. Just tilted his head slightly, inscrutable. And then, as suddenly as he appeared, he turned and melted back into the shadows, footsteps fading, leaving only the distant drip of water and the soft metallic hum behind.
I exhaled slowly, letting the tension roll off me like water. No attack, no confrontation. Just a warning. A reminder.
I straightened, checking the ledger against my chest, fingers brushing the edge like a shield. The game was bigger than me. And now I had proof every step, every move, every survival tactic had been observed. But observation alone didn't stop me.
Not yet.