“There’s nothing you can do.” Maxim’s voice was low and sounded so unlike him, I probably would have questioned it if I hadn’t known without fail that it was him on the other end. “I’m sorry, Wallace. For what it’s worth.”
Hudson grabbed the phone out of my hand. “Tell me where the petrylle are.” The phone disconnected immediately following Hudson’s demand. Sighing, he handed me back my phone and nodded. “Well, that settles that.”
Things were a blur after that, my heart breaking over the fact that my fucking assistant, someone I’d let into my life and thought shared my views on helping Orbs, was behind the petrylle kidnappings. Hudson was taking charge and I was just a passenger in following orders. Wrage and I found our way in the backseat of Hudson’s car, heading straight for the warehouse that was under Stacy’s name.
Even though I’d heard from Maxim’s own mouth that he was doing this, albeit in not so many words, I briefly toyed with the idea that maybe Stacy had put these thoughts into his head. But even that was a mindfuck because he’d been dating Stacy for three years. I’d shared meals with this woman, gone on and on about things I’d hoped to do to help Orbs in the future and both of them had smiled directly in my face and told me that I was changing the world.
Just how long had they been involved in planning this? I shook myself mentally as Hudson pulled up outside the warehouse. I didn’t want to go to the place that made me think that Stacy and Maxim had planned this out over that amount of time. It didn’t make sense. Not that it made sense in the first place. I just wanted answers.
More than that, I needed to see Wrex. To see that he was okay, that the rest of the petrylle were okay. I hadn’t allowed myself to be wrapped up in thoughts about his safety or lack thereof, but now that we were potentially heading to a place that could be holding him and the rest of the missing petrylle, my heart skipped irregularly.
The slight shift of the car being stopped brought me out of my mental reverie. Hudson locked eyes with me in the mirror before mimicking the action with Wrage.
“You two stay here, okay?” Hudson nodded. “I’ve got backup on the way, but until then, stay here in the car where it’s safe in case things go awry.”
“You think things could go awry?” Wrage’s voice trembled with uncertainty. If he hadn’t displayed the worry in his voice, mine surely would have shaken enough for the both of us.
“Things couldalwaysgo awry,” Hudson scoffed. “Everything’s on the table when it comes to criminals.”
Hudson pried open the driver side door and wielded his gun from whatever hidden place it had been before. I glanced at Wrage, who was watching the detective just as intently, as Hudson made his way toward the entrance of the warehouse. The red door was surrounded by an archway of brick that made it look more homey, as if this wasn’t some previously abandoned warehouse that had now been turned into a hotbed of kidnapped housing.
He had to kick down the door after yelling for someone to open up, but Hudson made his way inside. As soon as the detective disappeared inside the confines of the warehouse, Wrage stirred next to me.
“I’m not just fucking sitting here,” Wrage said, reaching for the door handle with gusto. “Wrex could be dying in there.”
That was my greatest fear realized in one sentence. Images of Wrex lying in a pool of his own blood, simply because he’d been a prime candidate to take because of our position on the board ran through me like a freight train with tampered brakes.
I gave Wrage a nod. “Let’s go.”
We both shoved ourselves out of Hudson’s car, slowly making our way to the warehouse with the still ajar red door waving a warning sign at us. When I glanced at Wrage again, he activated his luster, a clear sheen settling over his skin that now meant he was basically indestructible. It should have made me feel a lot safer heading into a den belonging to kidnappers that could very well be armed, but it only reminded me that I was human and very likely to catch any stray bullet that might have been meant for Wrage.
Giving me a nod, Wrage stopped at the door frame. “You get behind me, okay?”
I tilted my head back, not wanting to waste the time arguing. With eerie quiet and caution, we crept inside the warehouse.
Inside the warehouse was exactly as I’d imagined. Oil spills long faded and forgotten decorated the slate floor, giving it a sort of abstract art quality to the otherwise drab flooring. Dust collected in every corner. There was absolutely nothing of note in the building. No furniture, no decorations, nothing. It was just a simple, empty room.
Which was the disturbing part. If this was the building that Stacy had bought, or at least put in her name, why was it empty? Furthermore, if there was nothing more to this warehouse than meets the eye, why the fuck wasn’t Hudson here?
Wrage seemed to be thinking the same thing as he inclined his head in my direction. “Something’s not right. Hudson should be here.”
There had to be something we were missing. But that was the most frustrating part. The only things in the room were the windows that adorned the walls and a door at the far back that must lead outside. My head shifted, inspecting the door.
Unless it didn’t lead outside.
“Over there.” I said, pointing to the door.
Slower than we probably needed to, Wrage and I sauntered over to the door. The last thing either of us wanted was for someone to randomly pop out of nowhere and attack us when we weren’t on guard. Nothing happened. I moved in front of Wrage before he could mutter a protest and flung the door open, needing this wait to be over.
I tensed, as I felt Wrage do the same behind me, waiting for a gun to be pointed in my face or something of that sinister nature. The only thing that was staring back at me after opening the door was a closet. Just a closet.
“What the hell?”
I nodded at Wrage’s loose inquiry. There was a mop in the corner, a shop-vac that looked like it had been abandoned here after the warehouse had originally traded hands, and a built in bookcase. My brow furrowed. Why would anyone build a bookcase in a closet of a warehouse?
“Can you think of any reason why someone would have a bookcase in a closet?” My brain went into overdrive, thinking about the plethora of things that would possess someone to do this. But only one thing made sense in my brain, whether it was because of the media I’d consumed or the video games I loved to dabble in: this bookcase had to be some type of secret door.
I watched in fascination as a sense of whimsy scrolled over Wrage’s face as he looked it over. Then anger claimed the land of his features, and he growled. “Step away from the bookcase, Wallace.”
