Adrian holds my arm firmly. I pull back, but I’m not strong enough. Then everything goes dark.
“Please save him,” is the last thing I say. This time the words are clear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monsters and Mind Games
Elliot
I hate that Sam made me swing by my apartment to get supplies first. That’s another hour Nicholas and Matt are missing. It’s been almost twelve hours since they left that stupid building this morning.
“Calm down, El. I’m sure they just got the guy and had to take him to some super-secret Bureau prison. He’ll call back soon, and we’ll laugh about how freaked out we were,” Sam says as he drives through the annoying traffic.
I’m one second away from rolling the window down and screaming at the stupid traffic light to fucking turn green already.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give Nick’s friends a call?” Sam asks hesitantly.
I sigh. “You know I can’t. We’re not supposed to know any of this. I called Oliver again, and he said no one would tell him anything. What makes you think they’ll be okay with me knowing everything?”
Sam nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The steady rhythm only irritates me more. I tamp it down. It’s not Sam’s fault. He’s just trying to help.
It’s all on me.
No wait, it’s all onNicholas. And his stupid need to do everything himself. Why the fuck didn’t he call me? When hesaid we’ll work on Raymond’s case together after this, I thought we were finally a team. That he trusts me. But of course he still doesn’t. If that stupid man got himself into trouble playing the hero, I’m going to kill him myself.
Or maybe Sam is right. Nicholas is just busy with his work, and I’m freaking out over nothing.
That thought immediately goes out the window as soon as Sam turns onto a deserted street with a long stretch of forest on both sides. It’s eerily quiet. No birds. No rustling leaves. Nothing. Like all the wildlife just packed up and left.
As we close in on the destination, my body grows colder. The hairs on my arms stand straight up. I feel an acute sense of wrongness.
“Stop here,” I say, my voice cutting through the heavy silence in the car.
Sam hits the brakes. “But we’re still five minutes out.”
I snatch my bag from the backseat and start strategically placing weapons under my clothes. A knife goes under my sock, a tiny gun in the other one. Two lethal injections in my pocket and my taser under my belt, covered by my oversized T-shirt. Then I face Sam. “You’re staying here. If we’re dealing with werewolves, they’ll scent you if you go any farther.”
Sam starts to protest, but my glare stops him. “Fine. But you’re wearing your tracker, and I’ll be on the call, so I know what’s going on.”
I’m honestly surprised he gave up so easily with his new penchant for taking danger head-on. I agree easily. Taking out the tiny tracker Sam created, I pin it safely to my ankle.
Cool air hits me as soon as I open the car door. When it closes behind me, the sound rings like gunfire.
I don’t linger. With a final glance at Sam safely leaning back in his seat, I start walking. I don’t want to waste any more time. The old road is dark despite it being six pm. The pink dot on my screen tells me I’m getting closer, but there’s still no sign of a building.
Then I spot it. Matt’s truck, just a few feet away, right in front of a large warehouse structure.
So, they never left. It couldn’t have taken themtwelve hoursto take one man into custody. My best hope here is they’re still inside.
It doesn’t look like anyone has used the place in a long time. The walls are gray and covered in dirt. The glass window above is dark and cracked. I walk carefully toward the wide-open steel door.
Taking a long breath, I step around the truck and into the darkness. The air inside is colder, carrying the smell of dust and damp concrete. I turn on my phone’s flashlight and take small steps down a narrow hallway that ends at another door. This one is smaller. Cleaner.
“Talk to me, El,” Sam says into my ears.
Fuck, I forgot he was here. I wait for my heart to calm down before attempting to form sentences. “I’m in a warehouse. Matt’s truck was outside.” I don’t bother whispering. What will be the point?
I swing the flashlight on the walls, all covered in dirt. As I get closer to the door, my heart attempts to drill a deeper hole into my chest. “I’m going in,” I whisper as my fingers touch the cold metal doorknob. It turns easily.
