I’m already reaching for my keys.
“I just stepped out to grab food for us.I wasn’t gone longer than ten minutes.When I got back—he was gone.”
I’m halfway down the stairs.
“Where could he have gone?”
“I called Nick.He’s not with him.I doubt he’s suddenly gone for a run, so I thought maybe he came to see you.”
“He didn’t.I haven’t seen or heard from him since?—”
“Fuck,” Jay cuts in.“If he’s not with Nick or you, then I really hope I’m wrong about where I think he might be.”
My chest tightens.
“He wouldn’t… would he?”
“He’s not in a good space, Nora.I’m heading over to you now.”
The warehouse is exactlywhat I expect—pulsing bass shaking the walls, strobe lights cutting through thick smoke, the air heavy with sweat, alcohol, and something chemical underneath it all.It smells like rust, spilled beer, and regret.
Jay pushes through the crowd beside me.
“You see him anywhere?”
I shake my head, scanning the chaos.The people here don’t look real—faces lit red and blue by the lights, eyes glassy, movements slow and unnatural.We shove through another wall of bodies.
“Nate!”I call, but my voice is swallowed by the music.
Jay’s jaw is tight.“He could be anywhere in here.”
“Then we split up.”
Jay grabs my wrist.“No.Stay close.”
We keep searching—through the haze, the heat, the pounding rhythm that feels like it’s shaking my ribs apart.Jay stops to question people, shouting over the music.
“Have you seen Nate Sullivan?”
The woman frowns, shaking her head.I’m about to turn away when a voice cuts in—sharp, female, confident.
“Did you say Nate Sullivan?”
We both turn and a girl with glitter on her cheeks and smeared lipstick leans against the wall, drink in hand.Her eyes flick between us before landing on me.
“Yeah.You seen him?”Jay asks.
“He’s downstairs in the basement.”
Her gaze trails down my clothes, slow and judgmental, and I feel exposed—like she’s peeling me open just by looking.I cross my arms instinctively, stepping back.
Jay doesn’t waste a second.
“Come on.”He grabs my arm and pulls me through the crowd.
The stairs are narrow and steep, the air growing thicker with every step.The bass from above fades into a dull, suffocating throb.The smell changes too—sour sweat, smoke, and something metallic.By the time we reach the bottom, I’m dizzy.
The walls are concrete, stained and damp with people scattered along the corridor, slumped against walls, passing bottles and lighters, their faces half-lit by flickering bulbs.
