Chapter 47 Ellie
FORTY-SEVEN
Ellie
I didn't wake up buzzing with energy or playing out some fantasy of what this day could mean like Sawyer probably was. I wasn't in a glam chair or surrounded by a team of stylists prepping me for cameras.
I wanted it to be me, especially since I was unsure where Sawyer and I stood and still hoping that showing up might mean something to him. Maybe it would be a step in the right direction toward whatever the hell we were doing.
He hadn't texted or said anything about the song, and that had me on edge in a way I didn't want to admit.
I pulled on jeans and a blue sweater and layered a puffy coat over them. I twisted my hair back into something that could pass for intentional. Mascara, a little color in my cheeks—just enough to feel like myself.
My phone buzzed against the kitchen counter.
BEN
Pulling up.
I stepped onto the sidewalk, and Ben stood beside the back door of the SUV, steady as always.
“Ellie,” he said with a nod.
“Hey, Ben.” I climbed in, grateful for the familiar ritual of it.
The door shut with a soft click. We pulled away from my house, and my neighborhood disappeared through the tinted windows. The hum of tires filled the silence.
“You doing okay?” he asked, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.
“Yeah,” I said then paused. We both knew that wasn't entirely true. “Just nervous, I guess.”
He nodded once. No follow-up, no small talk, just acknowledgment, which was exactly what I needed.
I turned my attention to the window. San Francisco was alive in a way that made my chest tight.
Sunlight pushed through the clouds, and everywhere I looked, people wore blue jerseys.
The closer we got to the stadium, the more electric it felt: flags waving from balconies, horns honking in a chaotic symphony, strangers high-fiving at crosswalks. Today, they were family.
I pressed my hand to my stomach. Maybe it was adrenaline, or that all I'd had since yesterday was leftover takeout and a bottle of water—my nerves had apparently decided food was optional.
Ben cleared his throat. “Security's tight today. Too much foot traffic at the public gate, so we're going in through the service side. Quieter. No press.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
A few turns later, we slipped off the main road. I didn't think much of it at first. Detours happened, especially on big days like this. The city had probably shut down half the streets just to manage the chaos.
But then another left. Then another.
The farther we got from the crowd, the quieter it became.
I leaned forward, my eyes on the window. These streets didn't look familiar. There were no signs pointing toward the stadium, no vendors selling overpriced hot dogs. Just gray walls and chain link fences and the kind of industrial corners most people drove past without a second glance.
“You said this was a security reroute?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
Ben didn't flinch. “Yeah. Stadium ops confirmed it this morning. We're bypassing the main gates and heading straight to the lower-level entrance.”
He was calm, two hands on the wheel, everything about him screaming professional competence.
But outside, the city was gone, replaced with concrete buildings that looked the same and a silence that felt wrong.
I sat back. We were close. We'd round a corner any second, and there it would be.
“We're almost there,” Ben said, eyes on the road. “Don't worry.”
I nodded even though he wasn't looking.
The SUV slowed as we approached a fenced-off lot. In the middle of it sat a warehouse. No markings. No security guards. No sign of anything at all, really.
Definitely not the stadium.
“Ben?” I asked, and I could hear the shift in my voice.
He didn't answer.
The tires crunched over gravel, the sound too loud in the sudden quiet. The lot stretched empty in every direction, not another car in sight, not another person. Just us and a building that looked like it had been forgotten by the world.
I sat forward. “Where are we?”
Ben put the vehicle in park and turned off the engine.
Then, slowly, he twisted around in his seat.
His sunglasses stayed on. His expression didn't change. But something in the air shifted, and I realized with a clarity that made my stomach drop that I'd been reading this all wrong.
The door creaked open beside me.
Before I could register what was happening, before I could even think to be afraid, someone grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the car.
A sharp blow landed against my head.
“You've been asking the wrong questions, Ellie.”
Then, everything slipped into darkness.