I had barely gotten home when my phone buzzed — a message from an unknown number:
"Stop digging, or you'll end up like him."
My stomach sank. Whoever Ben had run into didn't bluff. They knew I was investigating. And now, they wanted me scared. Typical Eastbridge intimidation.
Ella, meanwhile, had gotten a similar warning — a black envelope slid under her door with a single note: "Stay out, or it's your turn." She clenched her fists. She wasn't the type to back down. Not from threats, not from danger. She wasn't going to wait for Jamie to figure this out either.
I couldn't sit still. I paced my room, thinking, planning. Every clue from the skate park, every shadow I'd noticed tonight, pointed to one place: the warehouse. If Ben was there, it was now or never.
Half an hour later, I slipped out again. The streets of Eastbridge had grown even quieter, but the rain continued its relentless tap-tap on rooftops. My flashlight barely cut through the darkness. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios. What if Ben was already hurt? What if someone had followed me from the skate park?
Ella, on the other side of town, moved just as cautiously. She didn't know I was heading to the warehouse, but instinctively, she felt a pull — a need to protect someone, even if she wasn't sure who. Eastbridge had taught her to trust nothing, but that didn't stop her curiosity, or her sense of loyalty.
When I finally arrived, the warehouse loomed like a shadow of danger. Broken windows, graffiti on the walls, the smell of damp and rust thick in the air. I crouched behind a crate, scanning the entrance. Shadows moved inside. Voices murmured in low tones.
I gritted my teeth. "Right, Jamie," I muttered to myself. "Time to see what's really going on."
And somewhere inside, I knew Ella would be part of it. Whether she wanted to be or not.