Page 165 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

My skin prickles, adrenaline dumps into my blood stream, making all my senses sharp enough to cut. The dirt and metal smells so strong I can taste it. The sharpcontrasts of those dark and deep shadows hiding everything within, and the shine of light bouncing off greedy metal poles and panels. Forgotten machinery lies like dead corpses where they were abandoned. The night’s cool wind licks my face, drying the anxious sweat that beads my forehead.

All I can focus on is moving forward, deeper into this maze. I’m alone; I sent Pix a message. If he got it, he will meet me. God, I hope he got it. It’s just me and whatever I’m going to find in here.

Please don’t let it be her corpse.

Please.

I’ll pray to any god, any devil. Just give me one more chance to get this right.

Let her be alive.

Let her be in one piece.

Let me not be too late.

Where is the pack? They should have been here. Something’s happened to slow them down. There’s no way that Blaze and Sage wouldn’t have been here. King and Rolly would have fought tooth and nail to get to her. Where are they? I sent them so many fucking messages.

Why don’t they check their fucking phones?

I realise I’m breathing too loud and try to quiet it down.

I’m not surprised they aren’t here, not truly. This was planned, all of it. I can feel the methodical and evil stench of him all over it. Whoever did this, that mystery in the leather mask, whoever was taunting us, tempting us here, is gone.

Whatever he’s left behind is a message.

Is she alive?

Is she dead?

I accidentally bump something with my foot. The metal pole rolls across the floor, despite my efforts to stop it. The echo of the harsh sound spreads further and further. It goes on and on, and just goes to show how empty this building is.

Don’t go any further. Turn and walk away.

No, I have to know one way or another.

My senses come alive when I catch a whiff of something, the dust motes swirl in the air. Movement that gives away the fact that I’m not alone. Not anymore.They’ll know exactly where I am because of that sound, but I know where they are, too. I tense, ready to spring, gun in hand, finger on the trigger.

I’ll kill everyone.

I don’t hear a scream, I feel it. In every part of me. In my soul, in my heart, in every part of my aching muscles. It reverberates off my eardrums, circling my mind, sending every thought scattering and dragging fear straight to the front where it drowns everything else.

“DON’T HURT ME!” The shrill, high scream stabs at me.

“No,” I whisper. “No, not again! Fuck!” I stand up, risking calling out. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” but my words don’t get above a whisper. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe.

If she’s out…if it’s who I think it is…

My heart slams into my chest, and I explode into a run, racing through the warehouse, barely checking for danger. All I can hear is her screams.

“NO! Don’t leave me. Please. I’m scared! Please! Please!”

It’s her voice, but it’s not her. She’s crying so loudly. So lost.

I’ve met this voice twice. I know exactly who it is, and if she’s out, then things are really bad, and it means that something went horribly wrong.

It takes everything I have to slow down long enough to check. Everything in me screams to get to her. To make sure she’s safe. To protect her. She should never be alone. Not her.

I round a corner, holding my torch up, and she’s standing there in the door frame, shaking, tears streaming down her ghost white face. Her hands hang by her side, and her chest shakes as she sobs, with her eyes so swollen I’m surprised she can see.