The coordinates lead me straight to the river.
The road dead-ends into cracked asphalt and weeds that have pushed their way through neglect and time. The warehouse squats at the edge of the water like something dragged up from the depths and left to rot. Corrugated metal walls sag inward. Broken windows gape dark and empty. A chain-link fence leans uselessly to one side, a gap torn wide enough to make the idea of security laughable.
Lightning forks across the sky, turning the building stark white for a heartbeat.
Then darkness slams back down.
I cut the engine and sit still for a second longer than necessary, listening. Rain drums on the roof of the car, heavy and relentless. Thunder rolls overhead, close enough that it rattles the glass. My ribs throb in time with my pulse. I breathe
