May and Elliott find out something went wrong

A few hours passed in a haze. May sat on the dingy couch in Elliott’s studio, her foot tapping nervously against the floor. He had just stepped out to take another call. She could see his shadow pacing in the other room. He spoke quietly enough that she couldn’t hear. Every second felt like a lifetime. Suddenly his posture hardened as he listened to whoever was on the other end. He turned his back to her. When he hung up, he came back to her, his face grim. “Something’s happened.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What happened?” she asked.

Elliott hesitated, weighing his words. “They need me to come down to the docks. There’s been… a complication.”

“A complication?” Her mind raced. “What does that mean? Did they—” She didn’t want to say the words out loud. “Did something happen to Amelia?”

Elliott shook his head, but there was no relief in his eyes. “I don’t know. I just need to meet them, now.”

Panic welled in her chest. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s not a good idea—”

“I’m coming with you,” she insisted, her voice sharper than she’d intended. If something had gone wrong, if Amelia was in danger—she needed to know, needed to be there. She couldn’t just leave it all in Elliott’s hands. Not again.

He sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.” They grabbed their things quickly. Within minutes, they were in a cab. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the city as it pulled into the road. She sat in the back seat with him.

The industrial part of town was far from the sleek galleries and polished streets she was used to. The air grew colder, the buildings taller and more menacing. Both of them were silent and lost in their own thoughts. She should never have gotten involved in this kind of thing.

Elliott glanced at her, his jaw tight. “No one plans for this kind of thing, May. We just have to deal with it.”

Her hands trembled in her lap. She could hardly breathe, thinking about Amelia, her best friend, now tangled up in this mess. What if something’s happened to her? The thought wouldn’t leave her alone. She kept picturing Amelia hurt—or worse.

The cab turned onto a dark street that ran parallel to the waterfront. The warehouses loomed large in the evening light. A flickering sign hung above one of their doors. It was their destination. Elliott paid the fare and they climbed out of the cab. He pushed open the heavy metal door so they could step inside. The place smelled of rust and saltwater. A group of men stood near the far end of the warehouse. One of them, a tall man with a shaved head and a leather jacket, stepped forward as they approached. There was a coldness in his eyes that made May’s blood run cold.

“You Elliott?” the man asked with a heavy accent.

Elliott nodded. “What happened?”