Jack’s POV
The second I stepped out of the car, I knew this was a trap. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind—it was written all over the place, from the eerie stillness of the air to the way shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally across the cracked asphalt. The warehouse loomed ahead, barely standing, its rusted metal sheets peeling away like dead skin. Windows were either shattered or boarded up with splintered wood that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in decades. It screamed abandonment—but I wasn’t fooled for a second.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself as my boot crunched against the gravel beneath me. That’s when I heard it—the low rumble of engines echoing faintly from somewhere within the darkness. Motorcycles. My muscles tensed instinctively, every nerve ending on high
