Rossie all but staggered as she carried Angela away from the warehouse, her arms shaking—not from exhaustion, but from the rush of adrenaline and the strange, steady energy that pulsed through Eli's moonlit bracelet.
The gravel lot crunched harshly under her boots, each step a reminder of the danger they had narrowly escaped. Angela leaned against her, legs half-dragging, her breath shallow from fear and the lingering sting of chloroform.
"Rossie," Angela rasped, her fingers curling tightly in Rossie's shirt, "you shouldn't have come for me. They—" She trailed off, tears glinting on her cheek, confusion and gratitude tangled in her hoarse voice.
"They won't take you again. I promise,"
Rossie whispered fiercely, her heart racing as they hustled toward the alleyway. The scent of oil and rain-soaked asphalt thickened in the humid night, a stark contrast to the sterile, suffocating air of the warehouse. Every shadow felt dangerous, every creak a threat that the occultic men would burst from the darkness and drag them backward.
Behind them, the warehouse loomed, its open door a gaping, black maw that seemed to breathe in the night. The two defeated guards inside weren't moving, but Rossie's chest still hammered with the certainty that more trouble could spill from that building at any moment. She could almost hear the echo of their laughter, the sinister promises they had made.
"Rossie, wait," Angela gasped, her voice trembling. "What if they—"
"They won't find us," Rossie interrupted, her voice sharper than intended.
"We just need to get to the car." She spared only a glance back over her shoulder before fumbling her phone into her palm, her fingers slick with sweat. Ethan picked up on the second ring, his voice cracked and frantic.
"Where are you? Are you safe?" he demanded, urgency lacing his tone.
"Alleyway by the silos. Bring the car now," Rossie hissed, every sense on fire. She could feel the weight of time pressing down on them, each second stretching into eternity.
"On my way!" Ethan replied, and the line went dead.
Moments later, headlights flickered at the mouth of the alley, slicing through the darkness like a beacon. Becky leaped from the back seat, worry etched across her face.
"What happened? Are you okay?" she asked, her eyes darting to Angela, who was pale and trembling.
"Get her in the car!" Rossie urged, her voice rising with urgency. Lila slid over from the passenger side, hands outstretched to help.
They guided Angela into the cramped back seat, covering her with a borrowed hoodie.
"Drive, Lila! Now!" Rossie shouted as she slid in after Angela, wincing as Lila gunned the engine and sped off, tires squealing against the wet road. The car lurched forward, and Rossie felt a momentary sense of relief wash over her.
"Did they see you?" Becky asked, glancing nervously into the rearview mirror as if expecting to see headlights chasing them.
"I don't know," Rossie admitted, her heart pounding. "But we can't stop. Not yet."
Angela shivered beside her, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
"I thought I was done for," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I thought they were going to—"
"No you're not," Rossie said, squeezing Angela's hand tightly.
"You're safe now. We're all safe." But even as she spoke, a gnawing fear settled in her stomach.
What if they weren't safe? What if the men from the warehouse were already on their trail?
The girls huddled together, a cocoon of relief and racing pulses holding them close. The city blurred past, a kaleidoscope of lights and shadows, but the darkness of the warehouse lingered in Rossie's mind. She could almost hear the echo of their threats, the sinister promises they had made.
No one spoke for a long moment; the only sound was the frantic, shared breath of escape.
But in the silence, Rossie could feel the weight of their fear pressing down on them, a reminder that the night was far from over.
•
•
•
•
•
The group huddled in Ethan's uncle's battered sedan, parked beneath the flickering streetlights outside his apartment.
Inside the car, tension prickled the air—Rossie's heart still thundered from the escape, her pulse echoing in her ears. Angela sat pressed between Becky and Lila, her eyes rimmed red, the remnants of tears glistening like tiny stars against her pale cheeks.
Angela broke the heavy silence, her voice trembling but fierce, "You guys… please. We have to find Michael. Something's happened.
Something weird—he hasn't called me back at all, and you all saw what happened to his house.
"He's not himself. I can feel it."
Her gaze, flickering with terror, found Rossie's.
"Promise me you'll help. You especially—you're the only one who might actually find him before it's too late."
Rossie nodded, jaw tight, but doubt gnawed at her insides. "I swear. We won't let the cult get to him, Angela. I won't."
Lila looked down, twisting her phone nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the cracked screen.
"It's not just Michael." She paused, letting that sink in, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.
"Mia and Tom—they're stepping up their game."
Angela's fists clenched in her lap, her nails digging into her palms.
"Every time I go home, they're just… there," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Mia acts like my mum's best friend, Tom's always lurking. They're in my house, talking in low voices, staring at me like I'm a problem. I don't feel safe anymore—not even with my mum. She's hiding things from me. She lied about knowing Mia at all."
Ethan tapped the steering wheel, his brow furrowed in thought.
"They've still got the Parador. Their followers are doubling. We heard there was a new ritual planned for the weekend. Michael could be their target."
Rossie's mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle swirling chaotically. Michael missing, the occultists growing bolder, Angela's home turned into hostile territory. The pressure of Eli's bracelet warmed against her skin—a reminder there was more at stake than any of them could see. The bracelet felt like a lifeline, but also a chain, binding her to a fate she couldn't fully understand.
"I'll talk to the Eli tonight," Rossie said firmly inside her mind steady despite the storm brewing inside her.
"Whatever they know about Michael or the Parador, I'm going to get answers. And Angela…" Her eyes softened, a flicker of determination igniting within her.
"We won't let your family get pulled any deeper in. You're not alone."
Angela nodded, swallowing tears, her throat tight with fear.
"Just bring him back, promise? And… if something's happening to me next, I want you to tell me the truth. All of it. No more secrets."
Becky reached over, squeezing Angela's shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring.
"We've got you," she said, her voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos. "They won't win. Not while we stand together."
But as the words hung in the air, a chill crept through the car, a sense of foreboding that made Rossie's skin prickle.
Outside, the city buzzed with nervous energy—a storm gathering, the wind howling like a warning.
Shadows danced in the flickering light, and for a moment, Rossie felt as if unseen eyes were watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike.