The night sky was veiled in a thin mist as Aldric stepped into the empty warehouse, accompanied only by the sound of dripping water from rusted pipes. The woman was already waiting, her hands stained with blood, her breathing steady. Between them lay a steel table — and on it, a single report folder.

“He talked,” the woman said quietly.

Aldric didn’t answer right away. He slowly opened the folder, reading the preliminary interrogation report smuggled in by one of his informants inside the police force. Dion’s name was clearly written. Aldric closed the folder and looked at the woman before him.

“I told you. Never trust a coward with product,” he said, his voice low but sharp.

The woman bowed her head slightly, waiting for orders.

“Burn his house down. Erase everyone who knows him. His mother, his girlfriend — even the dog. I don’t want a trace of his life left behind. Not even the scent of it,” he said flatly.

He stepped closer, standing right in front of her. “And you,” he murmured, “if you fail to clean this up tonight... I will tear out your tongue myself. There will be no mercy, no matter how long you’ve been with me.”

No rage. No emotion. Just cold certainty.

“Now go.”