Page 45 of Silent Night

"I can handle myself," Sheila said. "You know that. If there's trouble, I'll call you." Whether you'll be able to hear me, though, is another matter entirely, she thought darkly.

Finn hesitated for a moment longer before reluctantly nodding. "Fine. But at least take my spare." He stooped and rolled up his pant leg, exposing a compact Glock 26 holstered to his leg. He drew it and held it out, its black matte finish glinting under the fluorescent lights. "I always carry a backup," he said. "It's lightweight and easy to handle, so you shouldn't have any problems with it. Hopefully you won't need it at all."

"Thanks," Sheila replied, accepting the weapon and feeling its reassuring weight in her hand. "Good luck."

"You, too."

With a final, determined glance at one another, they split up. Finn headed toward the stairwell leading to the upper levels, while Sheila moved toward the elevator, planning to start in the basement and work her way up.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a cramped, sterile space. Its metal walls were scratched and dented, as if bearing witness to countless hurried escapes and clandestine meetings. Sheila hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Come on, Sheila," she muttered under her breath, willing herself to push the button for the basement level. "It's just like a fight in the ring. You just haven't met your opponent yet."

As the elevator began its slow descent, her grip tightened around the compact Glock 26 Finn had given her. It was smaller than his primary weapon – a Glock 17 – but still packed a punch, and she appreciated the extra assurance it provided.

Her thoughts raced as the elevator creaked downward. She tried to focus on her breathing and the weight of the gun in her hand. But her mind kept drifting back to the missing woman – someone's daughter, sister, or friend – who might very well be trapped somewhere in this immense structure, her life hanging in the balance.

"Get it together, Sheila," she told herself. "You can't save anyone if you're lost in your own head."

With a jolt, the elevator ground to a halt, and the doors opened onto a scene that seemed pulled straight from a nightmare. Darkness enveloped the basement like a shroud, pierced only by the occasional flicker of weak overhead lights. Shadows stretched out from rows of parked cars, coiling around the concrete pillars that held the building up.

"Okay," she whispered, taking a deep, steadying breath. "This is it."

Then she stepped into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Sheila's heart pounded as she crept through the dimly lit basement of the parking complex, her senses heightened to a level she had rarely experienced before. The air was thick with the smell of damp concrete and gasoline, mingling with the faint odor of something metallic in the darkness. Her gun felt heavy and foreign in her hand, a stark contrast to the kickboxing gloves she was accustomed to. She couldn't help but wonder how she had found herself in this situation.

The shadows cast by the flickering lights above danced around her like sinister phantoms, causing her to start at every unexpected movement. Each footstep reverberated through the vast space, amplifying her sense of vulnerability. She pressed on, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, remembering the lives that might depend on her tonight.

"Stay sharp, Sheila," she muttered under her breath. "You've come this far."

Just then, she caught the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. Her entire body tensed as she spun toward the source of the noise, her gun raised and ready. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she prepared for the worst.

"Whoa, easy there," came Finn's familiar voice, his hands raised defensively as he descended the stairs. The relief that washed over Sheila was palpable, her grip on the gun loosening slightly.

"Shit, Finn," she said. "You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing down here?"

"Changed my mind," he answered, stepping into the dim light beside her. "I know you wanted to split up, but that doesn't mean we have to start on separate floors. You might as well stay within shouting distance. You okay?"

"Other than almost having a heart attack? Yeah, I'm fine," Sheila said, her voice laced with sarcasm, though her eyes betrayed her gratitude. Having Finn by her side made her feel safer, more capable. He had navigated these kinds of situations before, and his presence was a reminder that she wasn't alone in this fight.

"Let's keep moving," Finn suggested, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond them. "There's still a lot of ground to cover."

Sheila and Finn moved silently through the basement. Pools of murky water and scattered debris littered the floor, reflecting the dim flickering light from overhead lamps. Sheila's heart pounded relentlessly in her chest as she navigated the labyrinth of parked cars, storage units, and utility rooms.

"I'm going to check that line of vehicles over there," Finn said, gesturing. "Holler if you find something."

Sheila nodded and watched him go.

She moved cautiously through the maze of shadows, her senses heightened, straining to detect any sound or movement out of place. Her nerves were frayed, the adrenaline coursing through her veins amplifying every tiny noise—the drip of water, the creak of a door hinge, even the rustle of her own clothes. With each step, she fought the urge to call out for Finn, to seek the comfort of his presence. But she pushed forward, determined not to let fear get the best of her.

Her thoughts raced, the weight of responsibility weighing heavily upon her shoulders. This was far beyond anything she had ever experienced in her athletic career, and she feared that one wrong move could be a matter of life and death. How did Finn manage to do this regularly? She marveled at his ability to remain composed under pressure, wondering if she would ever find the same strength within herself.

Suddenly, a muffled scream pierced the oppressive silence, and Sheila's heart leaped into her throat. She froze for a moment, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling despite her attempts to project confidence. "Is anyone there?"

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