Page 25 of Make Me A Sinner
The place is a dump. But the whole street’s a lineup of dumps—one-story buildings barely holding themselves together. Most look abandoned, but a few lights down the street tell us some are still inhabited.
We last about five minutes before Set loses his patience and decides to go in. "My men will be here soon," he says, handing me one of his guns. "You do know how to use this, right?"
I nod, nervous that we’re even in a situation where he has to ask me that.
He seems a lot more relaxed about it than I am, even if he’s handing me a loaded gun. "Good. Just stay in the car and don't open the door to anyone. The car’s armored, so nothing can happen to you. I’m also leaving the keys in the ignition."
Even I’m surprised he trusts me enough to do something like that. But now I've realized there's nowhere I could go where he wouldn't find me, I'm not so keen on leaving anymore.
"I can lock the car from my phone and trap you inside. So don't get any ideas. And trust me, this isn’t the kind of place you want to walk alone at night," he adds, just in case I get any dumb ideas. Which I highly appreciate since it gives my conscience an excuse and saves me from spiraling into thewhat ifs.
He leaves the next second, moving like a shadow between the buildings, and a cold chill runs down my spine. I’m not even sure why, but I just hope he’ll be okay.
I track him with my gaze through the faded streetlights, and just as he's about to disappear inside the building, I see something—someone—behind him. Another shadow seems to detach itself from the wall and slips in after him. There was someone outside and probably saw him coming in.
No. No no no no no no no no no, this isn't happening.
thirteen
-Serena-
I look around, and there's no sign of any of his men. I'm the only one who knows he’s in danger. And no matter whose to blame for the hitman I have on my ass, Set’s risking his life to protect mine.
I grab my phone and try to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail.
"Damn… Fuck… Shit…" I curse, yanking off my seatbelt and grabbing the gun as I swing the car door open. Without a second thought, I follow the same path Set took, since it’s the most tucked away from the streetlights. I pay extra attention as I advance to the building, watching every shadow for movement. No one seems to be following me, and that's because I triple-check behind me every five seconds. My tremble has a tremble of its own. I'm not usually brave unless I’m doing something incredibly stupid. And right now, this might hold the top spot. Besides, I know whether I live or not, Set’s going to be on my ass for this.
The abandoned building squeaks like it's about to collapse at any time, same does the wooden floor as I enter it. The place’s in complete ruin—something straight out of a horror movie. All I'm praying is that Freddy Krueger’s not home.
Lights flicker on and off somewhere in the distance, and I'm not sure I’ll make it across the hall without fainting. But Set needs me. I need to hurry to get to him, but I also need to be careful enough not to draw any attention. In case they already have Set by now, I need to save him, even if I have absolutely no idea how to do that.
Still, I’m a former—possibly even current—cat burglar, so stillness is in my blood. Paying attention to details, I slip through the shadows, investigating the place, trying to figure out where Set went. I don't think he ran into anyone since there's a deadly silence hanging in the air. So, I’ll have to check the rooms one by one.
I push the first wooden door. It squeaks like the house is warning me not to take a single step further, and my heart stops. I glance around, praying no one heard that. The room’s empty, just dirty, peeling wallpaper and a few dusty gas cans on the floor. I move onto the second room. Same damn squeak, but I do my best to avoid it. This one’s not so empty. A rusted metal table lines the wall, cluttered with tools—some medical, some for construction. I can barely hold back a gasp as I realize some of the tools are stained with blood.These aren’t tools—they’re torture instruments.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
My breath picks up as I move on further toward what looks like a larger room. The door’s slightly ajar—at least it doesn’t squeak as I push it. But there's nothing to investigate there. The room’s completely empty, except for a single couch slumped in the corner.
I turn to leave when I spot faint rays of light leaking through the wall.
A double wall.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I step toward it. One push, and the wall gives way to a hidden room.
It’s so massive, it could be a warehouse. I remember seeing some facility buildings behind the main structure, so this must lead to them. I walk slowly, straining to listen carefully.
No sound, yet something catches my attention. Set's cologne—faint, but unmistakable to me.
I keep going, deep inside the room, following the scent. It's so dark I can barely see, but I have to find Set. I need to know he's not in danger because of me.
Then, I think I hear something moving behind some shelves. My weapon’s cocked, ready to fire. And I swear I’ve never been so on the edge in my life.
The stress makes me clumsy, and I brush one of the jars sitting on the shelf. It almost crashes, but I catch it just in time and ease it back into place slowly, watching carefully so I won't make any noise. I arrange it exactly as it was, but the second I lift my eyes to step away. I realize what’s in the jar.
Is that… a brain?
I'm not sure if I should scream or throw up first, but before I get to do either, a hand clamps over my mouth firmly.
