Damien tore through the warehouse like a man possessed, his heart thundering in his chest, his voice echoing off cold, rusted walls. “AVA!” he shouted, again and again, desperation ripping through every syllable.

The warehouse was vast and dark, shadows pooling in every corner. Machinery long forgotten loomed like skeletons in the gloom. His boots pounded against the concrete floor, kicking up dust as he moved through the debris-strewn aisles.

“AVA!” he called louder, his throat raw. He scanned every doorway, every corridor, his eyes wide and frantic. Nothing.

Behind him, flashlights swept the space as the police spread out, voices murmuring over comms. But Damien was deaf to them....