The warehouse was silent. Only the dripping of water from a leaking pipe echoed in the background. Dreven stood with his back to the long table where they usually weighed the goods. His hands were dusted with white powder. Not far behind, the woman stood still near the door.

"Officers hit the B-13 warehouse last night," Dreven said without turning. "They didn’t miss. Went straight for the stash, straight for the safe."

He inhaled slowly, then turned. His face was expressionless, but his eyes carried sharp threat.

"And according to the report, they knew everything. The quantities, the delivery rotation... even the backup courier’s name."

His steps were calm as he approached. He pulled out a sheet of paper—a copy of an interrogation report. In the corner, the name of a buyer from her distribution line. First-time buyer, asked too many questions, and apparently smart enough to be undercover.

"I don’t need an excuse. I need a guarantee this won’t happen again."

Dreven stopped just inches from her face. "You handled that transaction. You trusted a new face. If your channel leaks again..." He leaned even closer, his voice barely a whisper, but every word was a loaded warning.

"I’ll assume you’re part of that leak."

No reply. Just the air thickening with pressure.

Dreven stepped back and grabbed his weapon from the table. He didn’t raise it—yet. But the weight of it in his hand was warning enough.

"I’m giving you one chance. Clean your line. Or I’ll clean everything myself—including you."