Damon followed the two security guards down the corridor with calm, almost lazy steps, as if he were simply strolling through another interesting part of the casino, and not being led directly to the center of something that had most likely been carefully prepared to receive him. The sound of his shoes against the polished floor echoed softly, blending into the controlled silence of that more restricted wing, where every detail—from the dim lighting to the precise distance between the doors—seemed to have been thought out to keep everything under control.
He observed.
Always.
The walls, the blind spots, the small details that betrayed surveillance. Nothing explicit, of course, but there were signs—too discreet for ordinary eyes, too obvious for someone like him.
"So…" Damon began, in a light, almost casual tone, tilting his head slightly as he walked right behind the security guard leading the way. "How long have you worked here?"
The man didn't turn his face.
