Kane
Something moved in the darkness.
I was sure of it.
The sound had been brief.
Metal scraping against metal.
Then silence.
The kind of silence that made your imagination dangerous.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Five flashlight beams cut through the darkness of the abandoned warehouse.
Searching.
Waiting.
Expecting.
Nothing appeared.
Yet the feeling remained.
We weren't alone.
The message painted on the steel door burned into my mind.
YOU ARE LATE.
Fresh paint.
Fresh enough to still shine beneath our flashlights.
Fresh enough to prove someone had been here recently.
Maybe minutes ago.
Maybe less.
My grip tightened around the flashlight.
Every instinct screamed the same thing.
Leave.
Right now.
Get back in the cars.
Drive away.
Forget the flash drive.
Forget th
