EMERALD
The secondary road spat them out onto the access lane of the old steel foundry. The air immediately changed—it was thick with the scent of rust, damp concrete, and the lingering, metallic ghost of industry. The factory loomed ahead, a massive, skeletal silhouette against the starless night sky, its broken windows staring out like empty sockets.
"Dead zone, just as the analyst predicted," Leonardo muttered, bringing the SUV to a slow crawl. He pointed to a small, dark sedan parked inconspicuously behind a concrete barrier a hundred yards ahead. "That's Chloe's car. She’s already inside."
The anxiety that had been a dull pressure in my chest exploded into raw, focused panic. My sister was in there, trusting an anonymous message or whatever and walking right into a killer’s trap.
