“I am.”
We move forward.
Slow. Controlled.
And then she speaks.
“Someone’s been inside.”
I glance at her. “You sure?”
She nods toward the door. “It’s off. Not settled. Recently moved.”
I study it.
She’s right.
“Good catch.”
I feel the shift in her beside me. Small—but it matters.
We approach the door.
I pause. Listen.
Nothing.
Too clean.
I push it open.
The smell hits first—dust, damp… and something metallic.
Old.
The inside is dark but not empty. Crates. Broken shelving. A table in the center.
And on it—
A laptop.
Open.
Waiting.
Every instinct I have screams trap.
“That’s not normal,” Tessa whispers.
No. It’s not.
I move, clearing corners, checking angles.
“Clear,” Trigger calls from the back.
“Left side clear,” Beast adds.
But it doesn’t feel clear.
