I walked toward Roman, the sound of my father’s fading cries behind me.

But before I could hand him the files, the metal doors at the far end of the warehouse began to screech.

The heavy iron rollers groaned as they were forced upward from the outside.

A blinding white light spilled into the wet room from the street.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, holding a device that hummed with a high-pitched frequency.

My phone in my hand went completely dead, the screen flashing a bright, neon green.

The white light dimmed as the silhouette stepped forward into the damp warehouse.

The high-pitched hum of the device cut off, leaving only the sound of the rain drumming against the metal roof.

My phone screen flickered, the neon green light dying down before the display went completely black.

Victor Salvi walked through the threshold, his silver hair immaculate despite the damp wind blowing in from the harbor.

Behind him, two men in gray suits stood with their hands folded over their waistbands, their eyes scanning the shadows.

“A simple precaution,” Victor said, his voice smooth and dry like old parchment.