The door slammed open under my grip, banging against the wall.
The smell hit me, sharp, chemical, mixed with the faint, coppery tang of blood.
Inside, five men froze mid-motion. They were crouched over a wide table, their hands busy wrapping something in black nylon. The sound of the crinkling plastic stopped the second they noticed me.
All their eyes cut to me at once.
One of them straightened, his face mean and weathered. “Who the hell are you? Identify yourself.”
My gaze flicked to the ground—Mia’s shoes. Lying on their side near the corner like she had been dragged away. My pulse stuttered. My mind went blank, then flooded with panic. Did they? No. No. She’s alive. She has to be alive.
I stepped forward, every muscle in my body strung tight.
A big man with broad shoulders, his c
