The warehouse door swung shut behind Elena, plunging her into darkness. She fumbled for her phone, but the battery had died—of course it had. Somewhere in the building, metal scraped against concrete, and she froze.

"I know you're here," a voice called out. Male. Unfamiliar.

Elena's heart hammered. She'd followed the coordinates her missing sister had sent three days ago—coordinates that led to this abandoned textile factory on the edge of the city. The police had dismissed it as a prank. Maybe they were right, she thought, pressing herself against the cold wall.

But then she'd found the bracelet outside. The silver one with the tiny compass charm. Their mother's bracelet. The one Sophia never took off.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the voice continued, closer now. "But you need to leave. You don't understand what you've walked into."

A flashlight beam swept the space, missing her by inches. Elena saw her chance—a rusty staircase leading to the second floor. She moved quietly, testing each step.

The floor above was bathed in moonlight from broken windows. And there, in the center of the room, was a map. A huge one, pinned to a makeshift board, with red strings connecting photographs and newspaper clippings.

One photograph made her breath catch. Sophia. But she wasn't alone.

"I told you to leave," the voice said from the doorway.

Elena spun around. The man was younger than she expected, maybe thirty, with tired eyes and ink-stained fingers. He held the flashlight like a weapon, but his hand trembled.

"Who are you?" Elena demanded. "Where's my sister?"

He laughed, a bitter sound. "Your sister? Elena, your sister is the reason we're both in danger now."

He knew her name. How did he know her name?

"Sophia didn't disappear," he said, moving toward the map. "She went underground. And she left breadcrumbs for you to follow because she needs your help."

"Help with what?"

He pointed to the newspaper clippings. Elena stepped closer, reading the headlines. Local Journalist Killed in Hit and Run. Three Activists Missing After Protest. Whistleblower Found Dead, Ruled Suicide.

"Your sister uncovered something," he said. "Something that powerful people want to stay buried. And now that you're here, they know about you too."

Elena's phone buzzed in her pocket—impossible, it had been dead. She pulled it out. One new message from an unknown number: Leave now or join them.

Below the text was a photograph. Elena, taken through the warehouse window. Five minutes ago.

"We need to go," the man said urgently. "Right now."

But Elena was staring at the map again, at a photograph she'd almost missed. A corporate logo. Meridian Tech. The company her father had worked for before he died.

"My father," she whispered. "This is about my father, isn't it?"

The man's expression confirmed everything.

Outside, car doors slammed. Multiple vehicles. Voices shouting orders.

"There's a way out through the basement," he said, grabbing her arm. "But you have to trust me."

Elena looked at the map one last time, committing details to memory. Then she followed him into the darkness.

Whatever her sister had discovered, whatever their father had been involved in—she was part of it now.

And there was no turning back.

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