Kira's pov
The cold bit through my gloves as I crossed the threshold of the warehouse, my boots echoing on the rusted metal floor. Moonlight filtered in through cracks in the ceiling, painting the old steel beams in fractured silver. My heart pounded, each beat pulsing behind my ribs like a war drum.
This was the third meeting in two weeks, but something about tonight sat wrong in my gut. Too quiet. Too still.
But I had no choice. Not after what I'd started.
I pulled the satchel tighter under my coat and moved to the far corner, behind stacked crates of unused machine parts and a broken-down generator. My contact was supposed to meet me here,ten minutes ago. But he was late. Again.
I ran a hand through my damp hair and glanced toward the shadowed entryway. Calm down, Kira. You've done this before.
But my fingers wouldn't stop trembling.
Then, all at once,
SLAM.
The overhead lights exploded to life with a loud hum, blinding me.
