Chapter 45: The Warehouse of Shadows
The group fell completely still the second Theron raised his hand.
Around them, the old warehouses loomed like broken giants.
The air was cold and damp, smelling of dust, rot, and something foul — like burnt earth and old blood.
Even in the morning sun, the shadows here felt thick and alive, clinging to the cracked walls and shattered windows.
One warehouse stood larger and darker than the others, and from it pulsed a faint, sickly energy that made everyone's skin prickle.
A soft thud sounded nearby.
Mike dropped silently from the rooftop, landing light on his feet. His face was serious, his bow already half-drawn.
"I've been watching," he whispered.
"There are at least six men in black cloaks inside the big one. I can't see the children clearly, but I heard tiny voices from the basement. Scared. Whispering. They're alive… for now."
Mike paused, his jaw tightening.
