Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Naomi
The warehouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette dark against the faint glow of the city skyline. It looked abandoned from the outside—windows broken, paint peeling, weeds growing in cracks along the foundation. But Hudson and I knew better. This wasn’t the first time we’d been here.
Months ago, we’d scouted this same location, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jared and The Fold. We’d seen enough to know it was more than just a meeting spot—it was a nerve center, a place where plans were made, and resources were distributed. But we hadn’t been able to stay long enough to uncover anything concrete. Life, fear, and danger had gotten in the way.
Now, standing just outside the fence line with Hudson at my side, I felt the weight of unfinished business pressing down on me. We hadn’t planned on returning, but the photograph had changed everything. It was a message, a reminder that The Fold hadn’t forgotten us. And if Jared was involved, we couldn’t afford to look the other way.
Hudson crouched beside me, his flashlight off as he scanned the lot. His focus was razor-sharp, every movement deliberate, and it made me feel both safer and more on edge.
“Looks quiet,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
“For now,” I whispered back, gripping the strap of the bag slung over my shoulder.
We moved closer, keeping to the shadows as we approached the side of the building. The faint murmur of voices drifted through the night air, and I felt my heart pick up speed. It was quieter than the last time we were here, but the energy was the same—tense, purposeful, dangerous.
We found a broken window near the back of the building and peered inside. The room was dimly lit, the glow from a single bulb casting long shadows across a makeshift meeting area. A few men stood around a table in the center, their expressions serious as they gestured to a map laid out before them.
I strained to hear what they were saying, but the voices were too low, too muffled. Hudson pulled out a small recording device from his bag, setting it on the edge of the windowsill. If we couldn’t catch everything now, we could analyze it later.
“What do you think they’re planning?” I whispered.
“Nothing good,” Hudson said, his jaw tight. “Let’s get closer.”
We slipped through a side door, the creak of the rusted hinges sending a jolt through me. Hudson froze, his hand going to the knife strapped to his belt, but the voices from the other room didn’t falter. I let out a slow breath, my pulse pounding as we crept down the hallway.
The closer we got, the clearer the conversation became.
“—need to make it count,” one man said, his voice sharp. “This isn’t just about sending a message. It’s about control.”
Another man, younger and jittery, chimed in. “But the community center? That’s not exactly a high-value target.”
“That’s the point,” the first man snapped. “No one expects it. Hit them where they feel safe, and they’ll fall in line.”
My stomach dropped, and I exchanged a glance with Hudson. The community center wasn’t just a gathering place—it was a lifeline for so many people. Families. Kids. People who needed somewhere to feel safe.
“They’re targeting civilians,” Hudson murmured, his voice laced with anger.
We moved closer, careful to stay out of sight. The men continued their discussion, pointing to the map and gesturing animatedly. I caught fragments of their plan—explosives, coordinated entry points, timing meant to catch as many people off guard as possible. It was methodical, cruel, and entirely too real.
“We need to stop this,” I whispered, my voice shaking.
“We will,” Hudson said, his tone steady but fierce.
But before we could move, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway behind us. My blood ran cold, and I turned to see a man—a low-level member, judging by his disheveled appearance—staring at us with wide eyes.
“Hey!” he shouted, reaching for something at his side.
Hudson didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his movements quick and precise, pinning the man against the wall before he could draw a weapon. I stepped back, my heart racing as Hudson pressed a hand over the man’s mouth.
“Not a word,” Hudson growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The man’s eyes darted to me, then back to Hudson, fear etched across his face. Hudson tightened his grip, his gaze cold and unyielding. “If you scream, you won’t like what happens next.”
The man nodded frantically, his breathing ragged. Hudson released him just enough to let him speak.
“What are you doing here?” the man whispered, his voice trembling.
“Getting answers,” Hudson said. “And if you don’t want to be part of this anymore, you’ll forget you saw us.”
“I... I can’t,” the man stammered. “They’ll kill me.”
“Then make a choice,” Hudson said sharply. “Us or them. Because if you raise the alarm, you’re not walking out of here.”
The man swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between us. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I didn’t see anything.”
Hudson released him, and the man bolted down the hall, his footsteps fading into the distance. I let out a shaky breath, my legs feeling like they might give out beneath me.
“That was too close,” I whispered.
“Let’s go,” Hudson said, grabbing my hand. “We’ve got what we need.”
We slipped out of the building the way we came, sticking to the shadows until we reached the safety of the truck. My heart was still racing as I climbed into the passenger seat, the weight of what we’d overheard pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.
“They’re going after innocent people,” I said, my voice trembling. “We can’t let them.”