EMERALD
The city lights blurred into a long, golden smear on the car window as we drove. I gave the driver an address far from the well-lit streets of the city center. The instructions were simple: take me to the abandoned warehouses on the outskirts and wait. He didn't question me, just nodded and kept his eyes on the road. The silence in the car was heavy and I welcomed it. It gave me time to think, to prepare for the inevitable. The night was a perfect backdrop for what was to come—dark, ugly, and unforgiving.
As the car rumbled over potholed asphalt, the familiar scent of old rust and damp concrete filled the air. I peered out the window, my eyes adjusting to the low light, searching for a familiar figure. I saw her huddled in the shadows, a small silhouette resting against a brick
