Mark’s POV

The cold warehouse smelled like metal and oil. My fists clenched as I stood in the middle of the room, heart pounding in my chest. The dim lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across the concrete floor. Sage was tied to a metal chair in the corner, her face pale, lips pressed together to hide her fear—but I knew it was there. I could feel it like a blade twisting in my gut.

Alice leaned against a nearby table, arms crossed over her chest, a wicked smile curling at ...