Everyone arrived at the location. Princess stayed in the car while Mr. Griffin showed the rest of them the building.
It looked more like a workshop, a mechanic's garage filled with car parts and scraps. Dust and grease covered the floor, and the scent of engine oil filled the damp night air.
"Butcher," Mr. Griffin called, but there was no answer. His voice echoed weakly against the metal roof of the garage, swallowed up by the heavy silence inside.
He looked at the people who had brought him, scared that the girl beside him would cut off his ear. He clutched his bandaged wrists tight against his stomach, his chest heaving as he glanced nervously at Beam's completely emotionless face.
"Butcher!" he shouted. He raised his voice this time, his shoes shifting on the gravel as he tried to get a response from the shadows.
"What is the meaning of this unwanted noise in my garage?" a voice came from under a car.
