Edge of the Dark

Chapter 22: Chapter 22: The Abyss Opens

The city was still asleep when they reached the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts. The pale gray light of dawn was beginning to stretch across the skyline, casting long shadows over the crumbling buildings. The scent of decay and rust hung heavy in the air, mixing with the sharp bite of early morning cold. Ethan stepped out of the car, his senses heightened, every muscle tense, ready for what lay ahead.

Nathaniel glanced at him from the driver's seat, his expression unreadable. "We don't have much time," he said, his voice low. "If they've got Lila, they're likely moving her already."

Ethan nodded, clenching his jaw. His thoughts raced. What had happened to her? Was she alive? Or was she already caught in the web of the sinister forces that had been manipulating everything from the shadows? He had no answers—only an overwhelming need to find her before it was too late.

The warehouse loomed ahead like a jagged scar on the landscape, its broken windows staring back like hollow eyes. A few flickering lights buzzed on the exterior, their yellow glow sickly against the darkness of the morning. The building was eerily silent, the only sound the distant hum of traffic on the nearby freeway. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"We're not the only ones who know this place," Nathaniel muttered. "Stay sharp. There's a chance this could be a trap."

Ethan didn't need to be told twice. His hand instinctively went to his sidearm, the cool metal a comfort in his palm. He moved swiftly toward the entrance, staying close to the walls, his steps soundless. Nathaniel followed closely behind, his posture tense, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

They reached the large metal door of the warehouse, which stood ajar, an ominous crack of light spilling out from within. Ethan paused, taking a breath before stepping inside.

The air was thick with dust, the smell of mildew and old machinery hanging in the stagnant space. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by a single dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Ethan's eyes adjusted quickly, every movement calculated, every sound amplified in the oppressive quiet.

"Lila?" he called out softly, his voice echoing in the empty space.

No answer.

He moved further into the warehouse, his footsteps quick and deliberate. Nathaniel kept close, his eyes scanning the corners and rafters, his gun ready in case of an ambush. The deeper they went, the more the feeling of something being wrong gnawed at Ethan. The place was far too quiet. It didn't feel like a location where they were about to find answers—it felt like a trap.

They rounded a corner, and that's when Ethan saw it.

A figure, slumped against the wall, bound to a chair. At first, he thought it was Lila, but as he stepped closer, the flickering light revealed a different face—someone older, a man, unconscious or perhaps dead. The chair was tipped over at an odd angle, and blood had pooled around the man's head, darkening the concrete floor.

Ethan froze, his mind spinning. Who was this? And where was Lila?

"This isn't right," Nathaniel muttered, glancing at Ethan. "We've been played. They want us to find this."

Ethan's gut tightened. They had expected Lila to be here. They hadn't expected this. He stepped forward cautiously, kneeling beside the man. The blood was fresh, and there were signs of a struggle. He reached out, feeling for a pulse. His fingers brushed the man's neck, but there was nothing.

Dead.

Ethan stood up, his eyes darting around the warehouse. Something about this place felt wrong in ways he couldn't explain. It wasn't just the man's body—it was the emptiness that seemed to weigh heavily on the air. As if they were being watched. But by whom?

"Let's keep moving," he said, his voice tight. He didn't wait for Nathaniel's response before moving deeper into the building.

They passed rows of broken machinery, stacked crates, and overturned barrels, the space growing darker and more claustrophobic with every step. Ethan's senses were on high alert, his mind sharp despite the nagging feeling that they were walking into the lion's den.

And then, there it was. The distant sound of something—or someone—moving. Faint, but unmistakable.

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. He motioned for Nathaniel to stay back and proceeded toward the noise. The sound grew louder, closer. A door loomed ahead, half-open, revealing a narrow hallway that led deeper into the warehouse's inner sanctum.

Ethan approached the door, his hand slipping around the handle, pushing it slowly. He peered inside.

The room was smaller than he expected, filled with flickering lights and the hum of a few old electrical devices. And in the center of the room, tied to a chair, was Lila.

She looked battered, bruised, her clothes torn, and her hair matted with sweat and blood. But she was alive. Her head hung low, and for a moment, Ethan couldn't tell if she was conscious or not. His heart hammered in his chest as he moved toward her.

"Lila!" he called, his voice a mix of relief and desperation.

Her head lifted slowly, and her eyes flickered open. There was pain in her gaze, but there was also a flicker of recognition, a faint spark of hope.

"Ethan," she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible.

Ethan rushed to her side, his hands moving quickly to untie her restraints. "We're getting you out of here," he said, his voice firm but gentle. He could hear Nathaniel behind him, speaking into his radio, calling for backup.

But before Ethan could free her, a loud crash echoed from behind them.

The door to the room slammed shut with a deafening bang, plunging them into darkness. Ethan spun around, drawing his gun instinctively, his mind racing.

There was no time. No time at all.

Figures emerged from the shadows—masked men, their movements deliberate and confident. They didn't need to speak. Their presence alone spoke volumes. They had been waiting for them.

Ethan's heart raced. He could hear Lila's soft breathing beside him, but there was no time to think about her safety now. There was no way out. They were trapped.

A voice rang out from the darkness.

"I was wondering when you'd show up, Ward."

Ethan froze. The voice was chilling, familiar—but it took him a moment to place it. Saville. The man they had been hunting. The leader of the Black Angels.

Ethan's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around his gun. The confrontation he had been dreading was finally here. And with it, the unraveling of the truth he had been chasing all this time.

"You've been a thorn in my side, detective," Saville continued, his voice cold and mocking. "But this game is over."

Ethan wasn't sure what Saville had planned next, but he knew one thing for certain: the moment he stepped into this room, everything had changed. And the consequences of this moment would echo far beyond anything he could have predicted.

The abyss had opened. And now, there was no turning back.