Another Smoke Show

The city rolled past in shadowed blurs as Damon sat in the back of the car, silence pressed tight against him. His hand tapped against his thigh, steady and controlled, though the storm in his chest betrayed him.

He didn't want to leave Nsomi all alone with Soonie but Reed had stopped by and promised to wait behind with her.

And here he was, on his way to get answers about the bastard who tried to kill his wife.

Patrick’s text was still on his phone screen.

Patrick: We got him. The technician who messed up the cameras. His name is Trent. Here is the address.

It should have been good news. A break from his suspicions and assumptions. He'll, he could barely sleep at night, not knowing who he needed to protect Naomi against. She was already paranoid, he didn't want to pile on that.

Tonight, though, he would get answers and put an end to this madness once and for all.

The car slowed as they turned off the main road, pulling into a warehouse lot long abandoned to weeds and graffiti. The only light came from a harsh floodlamp fixed to the corner of the building, casting shadows over the cracked pavement.

Damon stepped out, the night air cool against his face, the tang of rust and oil in his nose.

Patrick was waiting near the entrance, hands behind his back but his eyes tired and relieved at the same time.

“Inside,” he said simply.

Damon gave a curt nod and followed.

The warehouse swallowed them whole, air thick with dust and old machinery. In the center, a chair sat beneath the glow of a single swinging bulb. A man was slumped in it, wrists tied to the arms, blood streaking his face in dark rivulets.

Trent.

His breaths were ragged, each inhale shuddering, his swollen lips barely able to form words. One eye was nearly shut from swelling, the other flicked to Damon the instant he appeared. Fear tightened his whole frame.

Patrick’s men flanked the chair, their expressions unreadable, waiting for orders.

Damon’s footsteps echoed as he approached, unhurried. He stopped just in front of the man, eyes sweeping over him once before settling coldly on his battered face.

“You’re Trent,” Damon said. His tone was flat, almost conversational.

The man swallowed, wincing at the movement. “Y-Yes.”

“You’re the one who tampered with the cameras the day Naomi fell.”

Trent’s head dipped. “I… I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I swear.”

Damon leaned in slightly, his presence suffocating. “You were paid to blind my security. That decision almost killed my wife. Don’t waste my time with excuses.”

Trent’s lips trembled. “I… I needed the money. My daughter...she’s sick. She needs surgery. I had no choice.” His voice cracked, desperation spilling out. “Please, Mr. Damon… I didn’t know anyone would push her. I just did what I was told.”

Damon’s face betrayed nothing. Only his eyes sharpened, the faintest flicker of disdain.

“Who hired you?” he demanded.

Trent shook his head quickly. “I don’t know his name. Never met him face to face. It was all through a burner phone. He gave instructions and I followed.”

Damon’s jaw ticked. “Then give me the number.”

“I…” Trent coughed, blood on his lip. “I can’t. He told me to get rid of the phone. Said never keep the phone after the job.”

Patrick stepped forward. “We found nothing on him. Just a wallet, some old bills. No phone.”

The silence stretched, heavy as chains.

Damon’s gaze didn’t waver. He bent lower, until his voice was a whisper against Trent’s ear.

“Look at me. If you want to walk out of this room alive, you’d better give me something I can use. Anything.”

Trent’s good eye filled with tears.

“Please… all I had was that phone. I swear. I was desperate. They told me if I did this, I’d get enough to pay for my daughter's surgery.” His breath hitched. “Please. I’m not a monster. I just wanted to save her.”

Hell, he didn't even get the promised amount and his daughter was still laying sick in the hospital.

For the first time, his words seemed to falter Damon’s iron calm. The thought of a father breaking himself to protect a child… It pressed against an old wound he buried deep.

But he did not soften.

“Your desperation,” Damon said evenly, “almost cost me my wife. Are you expecting sympathy from me, Trent?!”

Trent bowed his head, sobbing weakly. “I’ll do anything. I’ll help you find him. Please, just…”

“How?” Damon snapped, sharp enough to make the man flinch. “You admit you have no name, no number, no face. You’ve given me nothing. How do you expect me to find this ghost with air in my hands?”

Trent’s lips worked, but no answer came.

The silence dragged on. Damon stood straighter, his disappointment cutting deeper than rage ever could.

“How old is your daughter?” Damon asked suddenly and Trent looked up, lips trembling.

“Six.” Trent whispered, close to tears.

“Every staff member of mine has health insurance and it covers your families too. Your daughter could have gotten that surgery without anyone getting hurt."

The words drained what little strength Trent had left. His head fell forward, tears slipping silently down his bruised cheek.

“I tried but I was denied so many times…” Trent cried.

Damon frowned. “Denied by who?”

“The HR. She said the policy was yet to be implemented.”

Damon glanced at Patrick who was already on his phone, calling the HR, Jasmine.

“Hello, Ms Jasmine. I have a few questions. Was Mr Trent Olsen denied the health insurance the company provides for his family?”

“Oh. Uh… Yes but it was…”

Damon took the phone from Patrick. “But what?”

“It was going to take a bit of time and..”

Damon shut his eyes, trying to control his rage. He ended the call, he didn't need any further explanation or he might actually lose his mind.

Patrick shifted, speaking low. “What do you want us to do with him?”

Damon didn’t answer immediately. He looked down at Trent. He couldn't find the strength to be upset. He was a man who had gambled Naomi’s life for his own child’s.

For the first time in years, Damon felt the sharp edge of pity scraping against his resolve. But pity isn't going to help him find the bastard who pushed Naomi.

“Keep him alive,” he said at last. “ And sort out his daughter's surgery. If I need him again, I expect him to breathe.”

Patrick gave a short nod, already signaling his men.

“Thank you! Thank you Mr Damon! I will repay your kindness sir! Thank you!”

Damon turned, his coat sweeping behind him as he strode for the exit. He shouldn't be doing this, showing a hint of kindness when he should be feral.

But he was human first, he had to remind himself that. Trent's little girl did nothing, she shouldn't have to suffer for the mistakes fully grown adults had decided yo make themselves..

The warehouse door groaned shut behind him, sealing Trent’s fate inside.

Outside, the night air was sharper, carrying the bite of coming rain. Damon walked back to the car, his hands curling once into fists before forcing them to relax.

Another dead end. When the hell will he get to lay his hands on the bastard who tried to kill his wife?! If he wants to agree with Jack, there has to be solid proof of that right?

Or Clara? Or anyone crazy enough to try to get rid of her! Hell, even Soonie is on his fucking list at this point.

He lowered himself into the car, the leather creaking beneath him. For a long moment, he sat there, unmoving, his gaze on nothing.

Patrick slid into the front passenger seat, turning slightly. “Mr Damon..”

Damon cut him off with a raised hand. His eyes, when they finally lifted, were molten steel.

“Find who did this.” he said, low and certain. “I don’t care how many shadows I have to chase, or how many bodies I leave behind. Someone wanted Naomi dead. Someone dared to touch her.”

His hand closed around the phone in his pocket, grip iron.

“And I want them found,” he ordered. “Even if I have to burn this city down to its bones.”

The engine roared to life. The car pulled away, leaving the warehouse shrinking in the mirrors, its floodlight flickering.

Damon leaned back into the seat, his mind already spiraling through names, faces, possibilities. He didn't care how long it took, he would tear the world apart to reach whoever tried to kill his wife.

His Naomi.