THE warehouse seemed to shrink around them, the air turning iron-thick, heavy with sweat and fear and something primal that made Nathan’s skin crawl under his suit.

The soft squeak of the wheelchair’s rubber wheels echoed like a shriek through the vast, empty space as the boy, faceless behind his hood, pushed the bound figure to Carlson’s side and stepped away without a word.

There she sat.

Her head drooped, a soiled cloth knotted tight over her face so all they could see was the trembling curve of her jaw and a lock of tangled hair peeking beneath the mask. Her wrists were strapped so tight to the wheelchair’s cold...