12
The air was thick with tension, damp with the remnants of rain that had fallen earlier, clinging to every surface in the abandoned warehouse. The concrete floor still glistened with moisture, and the heavy scent of rust, mold, and cold metal wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket. Shadows stretched across the walls, distorted by flickering fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly above, dying a slow death. Each creak of metal, every whisper of wind through the broken windows, made Adrian and Elena's pulse quicken with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Adrian exhaled slowly, steadying himself, trying to separate the real sounds from the tricks of his imagination.
"This place is a graveyard of noise," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, rough.
"Every sound could be her… or him."
