The old car Joe was driving crept along the dark road leading into the long-abandoned industrial area. The only sounds were the engine's hum and the rapid beating of their hearts. Beside him, Eliana clutched the folded, worn map, her eyes tracing the red line that marked the final point—the place where they believed Hunter was being held.

“We’re almost there,” Joe murmured. “Are you still sure this isn’t a trap?”

“No,” Eliana replied honestly. “But I’m more afraid of doing nothing.”

They arrived in front of a decrepit warehouse. The building was old, with peeling walls, and only a single flickering light above the entrance. Joe killed the engine....