The hall was too bright.
Lights reflected sharply off polished floors, off medals, off faces that looked proud, serious, disciplined. Everything about the place screamed order.
Damian stood in line, completely still.
At least on the outside.
Inside, it was different.
His thoughts weren't calm. They weren't organized like the people around him. They moved fast, sharp, restless. Like something waiting to be let loose.
"Stand straight," someone whispered behind him.
"I am straight," Damian murmured without turning.
"You look bored."
"I am bored."
A quiet snort came from his left.
"Unbelievable," his friend muttered. "Big day of your life and you're acting like you're waiting for a bus."
Damian tilted his head slightly. "Feels the same."
"Shut up," another one added under his breath. "At least pretend you care. There are seniors watching."
Damian's lips twitched faintly.
Pretend.
That was the easy part.
A voice echoed through the hall, calling names one by one. Applause followed each step forward, each badge pinned, each handshake exchanged.
Recognition.
Respect.
Everything people worked for.
"Damian."
His name cut through the noise.
For a second, everything slowed.
Then he stepped forward.
Measured steps. Calm expression. Eyes steady.
If anyone looked closely, they would think he was perfectly composed.
They would be wrong.
He stopped in front of the senior officer, posture straight, gaze forward.
"This isn't just a title," the officer said as he picked up the insignia. "It's responsibility."
Damian didn't respond.
The cold metal touched his uniform.
Pinned.
A small thing.
But it changed everything.
"Junior Investigator," the officer continued, his voice lower now, more direct. "You'll see things most people don't. You'll deal with people most can't."
A pause.
Then—
"Don't let it get into your head."
For the first time, Damian spoke.
"It already has."
The officer looked at him for a second longer than expected.
Trying to read him.
Then he stepped back.
"Carry on."
Applause filled the hall again.
But it felt distant.
Damian turned and walked back.
Same steady steps.
Same calm face.
But something inside him had shifted.
Not pride.
Not excitement.
Something sharper.
Something dangerous.
—
The moment the ceremony ended, the order disappeared.
Voices got louder. People moved freely. Formality broke into chaos within seconds.
"Oi, Junior Investigator," someone shouted, grabbing Damian from behind and pulling him into a half hug. "Look at you."
"Don't touch me," Damian said flatly.
"See this?" another one said, tapping the badge on his chest. "Big man now."
"Feels heavy?" someone added with a grin.
Damian glanced down at it briefly.
"No," he said. "Feels late."
They stared at him.
"What does that even mean?" one of them asked.
He shrugged slightly. "Should've happened earlier."
A burst of laughter followed.
"Yeah, of course," his friend said sarcastically. "Next you'll say you should've been leading the department by now."
Damian didn't smile.
"I could."
"Okay, stop," another one stepped in, raising his hands. "Confidence is good. This is something else."
"Arrogance?" someone suggested.
"Delusion," another corrected.
Damian finally smirked a little.
"Fear," he said.
That made them pause.
"What?" one of them frowned.
"You're scared," Damian continued casually. "Because I'm not wrong."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Yeah, he's gone," someone said dramatically. "Promotion got to his head in under five minutes."
"Record time," another added.
They laughed again, louder this time.
But underneath it, something had shifted.
Because they knew.
Damian wasn't joking.
—
They moved outside together, the noise of the hall fading behind them. Evening had settled in properly now, the sky darker, the air cooler.
One of them stretched. "Finally. I thought I'd die in there."
"You almost did," another replied. "Boredom."
"Shut up."
Damian stood slightly apart, his gaze drifting toward the road, then further, toward the parts of the city where lights didn't reach properly.
"You're thinking again," his friend said, stepping beside him.
"Hm."
"About what?"
Damian didn't answer immediately.
His fingers brushed lightly against the badge on his chest.
New responsibility.
New authority.
New access.
A chance.
"About what's next," he said finally.
His friend exhaled. "Or who's next?"
A faint smile appeared on Damian's face.
"Same thing."
Another one joined them, more serious now. "Listen… jokes aside…"
Damian looked at him.
"That position?" he continued. "It's not just cases and chasing criminals. Some of them… they're not simple."
"I know."
"No," his friend shook his head. "You don't. Not yet."
A pause.
Then quieter—
"Some people you'll go after… they won't feel like people."
The air shifted slightly.
Damian's expression didn't change.
"If they're not people," he said calmly, "then it's easier."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant."
He looked ahead again.
Eyes sharp.
Focused.
Restless.
"You're warning me," Damian said.
"Yeah."
"Don't."
His friend frowned. "Don't what?"
"Don't try to slow me down."
There it was.
Clear.
Certain.
Unmoving.
"I've been waiting for this," Damian continued, voice quieter now but heavier. "This isn't pressure for me."
A small pause.
"It's permission."
No one joked after that.
Because they could hear it.
This wasn't excitement anymore.
It was something deeper.
Something that didn't stop once it started.
—
From somewhere far away, a faint siren echoed through the city.
Distant.
But real.
Damian's eyes lifted slightly at the sound.
Then he smiled.
Slow.
Sharp.
Almost unnoticeable.
"Let's see," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "what kind of criminals are waiting."
And without realizing it,
he had already stepped onto a path
that was not going to let him walk back.
___
The room was quiet.
Not peaceful.
Just controlled.
Every corner of it felt intentional, like nothing existed there without permission. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the outside world completely. No streetlights. No noise. Just dim light falling across the floor in soft shadows.
She stood near the window.
Still.
Listening.
A faint knock broke the silence.
Once.
Then twice.
Not hesitant.
Not confident either.
Measured.
"Come in," she said softly.
The door opened slowly.
A man stepped inside, careful with his movements, like even the air in the room could turn against him if he wasn't cautious enough.
He didn't look up immediately.
"Boss."
Her gaze shifted toward him.
Sharp.
Observing.
He felt it instantly.
That weight.
That invisible pressure that made his throat dry.
"I have information," he continued, keeping his voice steady with effort.
She didn't respond.
Just watched.
Waiting.
That was always worse.
"The department…" he hesitated for a second, then corrected himself, "they've assigned someone new."
Silence.
He swallowed.
"A junior investigator."
Her expression didn't change.
But something in the room did.
Slightly.
"Name?" she asked.
"Damian."
A pause.
Then—
"Surname?" she added.
"Not confirmed yet," he replied quickly. "But he's already looking into the recent murders."
That made her move.
Just slightly.
A small shift of her head.
Interest.
"Already?" she repeated softly.
"Yes."
"He's fast," she murmured.
Not impressed.
Not concerned.
Just… noting it.
The man nodded quickly. "There's more."
Her eyes returned to him.
"Speak."
"The previous officer…" he hesitated again.
That was a mistake.
Her gaze sharpened.
"Say it."
"He's dead."
Silence fell again.
He forced himself to continue.
"Brutally."
No reaction.
At least, none that was obvious.
But her eyes lowered slightly, as if replaying something only she could see.
"I know," she said.
The man froze.
Of course she knew.
She always knew.
"I just thought—"
"You thought I didn't notice?" her voice cut in, still soft, still calm.
He shook his head quickly. "No, Boss. I just meant—"
"You meant nothing."
The words weren't loud.
But they ended the explanation instantly.
A long pause followed.
The kind that stretched just enough to make breathing uncomfortable.
Then—
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
Slow.
Unnatural.
"Damian…" she repeated his name quietly.
Like she was testing how it sounded.
The man stayed still.
Didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Because he had seen that expression before.
And it never meant anything good.
"A new officer," she continued, her voice almost thoughtful now. "A junior one… and he's already chasing something he doesn't understand."
Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the table beside her.
Slow.
Absent-minded.
"He replaced someone who died badly."
Her eyes lifted again.
And this time—
There it was.
That flicker.
Something unstable.
Something wrong.
"Interesting."
The man's grip tightened slightly at his sides.
"Should we… stop him?" he asked carefully.
That made her look at him fully.
And for a second—
He regretted speaking.
"Stop him?" she repeated.
Then she let out a quiet breath, almost like a soft laugh.
"No."
Simple.
Clear.
Final.
The man blinked, confused. "But—"
"If he dies now," she said, cutting him off, "what's the point?"
Her head tilted slightly.
That same unsettling curiosity settling into her expression.
"He just started."
A pause.
Then softer—
"Let him move."
The man didn't argue.
He couldn't.
"Watch him," she added. "Closely."
"Yes, Boss."
"If he's smart…" she continued, her voice dropping just slightly, "he'll be careful."
Another pause.
Her smile deepened just a little.
"And if he's not…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
The man understood.
Too well.
He nodded quickly. "I'll inform the others."
"Go."
He didn't wait.
Didn't look back.
The door closed behind him faster than it had opened.
And the room returned to silence.
—
She stood there for a moment longer.
Then slowly walked toward the chair, sitting down with effortless grace.
"Damian…"
His name again.
Softer this time.
Almost like a whisper meant only for herself.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.
Slow.
Rhythmic.
Calculating.
A new player.
A new movement.
Something fresh.
Her eyes darkened slightly.
Not with anger.
With interest.
The kind that didn't end well.
"Let's see," she murmured quietly, her gaze unfocused now, drifting somewhere far beyond the room, "how long you last."
A faint pause.
Then—
A quiet, almost inaudible laugh slipped through.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just wrong.
And somewhere deep inside,
she was already imagining
how it would end.
__
The office felt smaller than it was.
Not because of the walls.
Because of the silence inside it.
Damian stood across the desk, hands relaxed at his sides, posture straight but not stiff. His eyes moved once across the room, taking in everything without making it obvious.
Files stacked too neatly.
A cup of coffee gone cold.
A chair slightly pushed back, like someone had stood up in a hurry and never settled again.
Something about the place felt unfinished.
"Close the door."
The senior officer didn't look up when he said it.
Damian turned, shutting the door quietly behind him. The soft click echoed more than it should have.
"Sit."
"I'm fine standing."
That made the officer glance up.
Just for a second.
Measuring him.
Then he leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Suit yourself."
A pause.
Then the file in front of him was pushed forward across the table.
"Since you're so eager," he said, voice calm but edged with something heavier, "let's see how long that lasts."
Damian stepped closer and picked up the file.
It was thicker than expected.
He opened it.
Photos first.
Always photos.
His eyes didn't flinch.
Didn't move away.
They studied.
Positions of bodies. Angles. Blood patterns. The absence of struggle.
His fingers turned the page slowly.
Reports.
Statements.
Missing details.
Too many missing details.
"They're not random," Damian said quietly.
The officer watched him carefully. "You figured that out already?"
Damian didn't look up. "It's obvious."
A faint exhale came from across the desk.
"They all say that in the beginning."
That made Damian pause.
Just for a second.
Then he looked up.
"I'm not 'they'."
Silence.
The officer held his gaze a moment longer, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
"The previous officer said the same thing."
That landed.
Not loudly.
But enough.
"What happened to him?" Damian asked.
The answer came without hesitation.
"He's dead."
The room felt colder.
But Damian's expression didn't change.
"How?" he asked.
The officer's jaw tightened slightly.
"Badly."
A pause.
Then more directly—
"We didn't even get a clean report out of it."
Damian's grip on the file tightened just a little.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," the officer said, voice sharper now, "whoever is behind this doesn't leave anything behind unless they want to."
Another file was pulled out from the drawer.
Thinner.
Messier.
"These," he said, sliding it forward, "are the ones we caught."
Damian opened it.
Different faces.
Same fear.
Same end.
"Not the mastermind," Damian said.
"Exactly."
The officer leaned back again.
"Just men."
A pause.
"Disposable ones."
Damian flipped through the pages faster now, connecting pieces, building something in his head.
"They're organized," he murmured.
"Yes."
"They follow orders."
"Yes."
"They're scared."
That made the officer nod once.
"Very."
Damian closed the file.
Slowly.
"So they've seen something," he said.
"Or someone."
Silence again.
Then—
"We tried," the officer continued. "Interrogations, surveillance, tracing movements… nothing leads back."
"No names?"
"No face."
"No pattern?"
"There is a pattern," the officer corrected. "We just can't reach the center of it."
Damian's eyes sharpened slightly.
"That's because you're looking from the outside."
The officer raised an eyebrow.
"And you're going to what… walk into the center?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Just that same certainty.
The officer studied him again, longer this time.
"You're confident."
"I'm right."
"That's what the last one thought."
"And he died," Damian replied calmly.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"I won't."
The words didn't sound like hope.
Or arrogance.
They sounded like a decision already made.
The officer leaned back, watching him closely.
"You don't even know what you're walking into."
"I don't need to," Damian said. "I just need to start walking."
A faint scoff left the officer. "That's not how this works."
"It is for me."
Another pause.
Tension sat between them now, quiet but clear.
"You're not being assigned to this case alone," the officer said finally. "You'll follow protocol. You'll report everything. And you will not act without approval."
Damian didn't respond immediately.
His eyes dropped briefly to the file again.
Then back up.
"I'll report results."
"That's not what I said."
"It's what I heard."
The officer's expression hardened slightly.
"You think this is a game?"
"No."
"Then act like it."
"I am."
A long silence followed.
Neither of them moved.
Neither backed down.
Then the officer sighed, running a hand across his face.
"You remind me of him."
"Don't."
The response was immediate.
Flat.
Clear.
"I'm not here to repeat mistakes."
"Then don't rush into one."
Damian placed the file back on the desk.
Neatly.
Controlled.
"I'm not rushing," he said quietly. "I've just been waiting longer than you think."
That made the officer pause.
Something about that sentence didn't feel normal.
"Waiting for what?" he asked.
Damian's gaze didn't shift.
"For something real."
Silence.
Then he turned.
Walking toward the door.
"Damian."
He stopped.
"Be careful."
A small pause.
Then—
"I won't," Damian replied.
Not careless.
Not reckless.
Just honest.
He opened the door and stepped out.
Leaving behind the files.
The warnings.
And the feeling that this case
was already his.
__
The engine started with a low hum as Damian settled into the driver's seat. The door shut firmly, sealing him inside a space that felt quieter, more controlled. Outside, the city continued as usual, but in here, it was just him, the dim dashboard lights, and the road stretching ahead.
He pulled out smoothly, driving into the near-empty streets. Night had taken over completely. Streetlights flickered, shadows moved along buildings, and the noise of the day had faded into something distant.
His mind was still on the case.
The file.
The photos.
The word his senior used.
Badly.
Not just dead.
Something worse.
His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel, not out of fear, but focus. Every detail was settling into place inside his head, forming something clearer.
Then his phone lit up.
Unknown number.
The glow reflected faintly in his eyes. No name. No identification. Just a number that didn't belong.
A faint smirk appeared on his face.
He answered and placed it on speaker without hesitation.
"Speak."
For a moment, there was only silence, filled by the quiet sound of the engine.
Then a voice.
Soft.
Sweet.
Controlled.
"Damian…"
His name sounded unfamiliar in her voice, like she had shaped it carefully before saying it.
He didn't respond immediately.
He let her continue.
"You shouldn't have taken this case," she said, her tone calm, almost polite. "Curiosity has a way of ending badly."
Damian adjusted his grip on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road.
"Then I guess I picked the right case," he replied.
A slight pause followed.
"You sound confident."
"I sound honest."
The voice on the other end remained steady.
"Do you know what happened to the officer before you?"
"Yes," Damian said. "He died."
"Not just died," she corrected softly. "He suffered."
The words lingered.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
But Damian didn't react.
"That happens," he said calmly. "People who make mistakes usually pay for them."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"Consider this your warning," she continued. "Walk away, and you live. Continue… and you won't end any differently."
The car passed under a flickering streetlight, shadows sliding briefly across his face.
Damian smiled slightly.
"That's it?" he said. "That's the warning?"
Silence shifted on the other end.
"You think this is a joke?"
"I think," Damian said, his voice lowering just enough to sharpen it, "if you actually wanted me dead, you wouldn't be calling me."
That hit.
The silence that followed wasn't empty anymore.
It was listening.
"You're not afraid," she said.
It wasn't a question.
Damian leaned back slightly, relaxed.
"Should I be?"
"Yes."
The answer came softer now, but more real.
He let out a quiet breath.
"Then you're not doing a very good job."
The air changed again.
Subtle.
Tighter.
"You don't understand what you're walking into," she said.
"I don't need to," Damian replied instantly. "I just need to find you."
"You won't."
"Everyone says that," he murmured. "Until they're wrong."
Another silence.
He could feel it now.
Not hesitation.
Interest.
A shift.
"Then die trying."
The line went dead.
No goodbye.
No warning.
Just an end.
Damian stared at the dark screen for a second before placing the phone aside.
The car continued moving forward, steady, uninterrupted.
Then—
He laughed.
Quiet.
Low.
Genuine.
"Now that was something," he said under his breath.
His grip on the wheel tightened slightly, not from tension, but anticipation.
This wasn't just a case anymore.
It had a voice.
A presence.
A challenge.
And for the first time since the investigation began,
Damian felt exactly where he was meant to be.
The car disappeared deeper into the night,
and whatever waited ahead,
he was already moving toward it.
And on the other side SHE was impressed,shining cigarette in her hand,
"I wish my next pray dies more brutally may I rest in hell. "
----
AN: Thank you for reading this chapter please support ❤