Avery’s POV
Cold warehouse air licked at my skin, restive and damp like a second skin. Noah was taut on my left, his knuckles grazing mine in a silent mantra as Drew steered us further into the black void. Something told me that we were in a trap, walking into it.
He glanced back over his shoulder, the brim of low slouching ball cap hiding half of his face. He looked just as I’d remembered-he was roughed up, circumspect and with that air that told you he kept a lot back and knew all of the truths too well. He hadn't spoken since we got here and the silence was wearing at him.
He stopped at last by a smattering of scrap machinery. Oil and death reeked in the closet-sized space, the lone bulb overhead casting his face a sickly yellow. “You are as far as we will get,” he said, hunching his
