Damien didn't drive them back to Sinclair Tower immediately. Instead, he navigated the Aston Martin through the neon-lit streets toward the Upper East Side, pulling up to a sleek, unmarked building with frosted glass doors.
"Where are we?" Aria asked, peering out the window.
"It's a grocery store," Damien said, killing the engine. "We need ingredients."
Aria looked at the imposing, logo-less facade. "Damien, this looks like a front for MI6."
It was called Elysium, and it was less of a supermarket and more of a heavily guarded vault for organic produce. There were no automatic sliding doors. Instead, a man in a tailored suit stood outside. Damien stepped up, placed his eye in front of a biometric scanner mounted on the wall, and waited for a soft beep and a green light before the heavy doors clicked open.
Aria stared in disbelief as they walked inside.
