Page 83 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

That would make sense.

“Think about it. Girls wouldn’t willingly follow the fifty-year-old creep, but the good-looking college guy? Maybe.”

“But what would he get out of it?” I’m hoping,prayingthat we’re wrong. That my sister’s internet boyfriend isn’t a fucking psycho hired by the scum of the earth to kidnap young girls.

“No idea, but we need to find them. Now.” TJ takes his sister’s arm and drags her to the door.

We’re rushing out of the house in no time, my heart pounding against my ribs and into my ears as TJ gestures to my car, which is parked down the street. “It’ll be faster.”

We hear car doors being slammed the moment we reach mine and a deep voice shouting, “Guys!”

We whisk our heads to see Theo and Chance heading straight for us, and a smidge of relief bleeds through the fist of anxiety wrapping around my throat. We don’t know how many people are behind this. It could just be Gabriel, but I’m liking our odds better now that we have backup.

“Get in.” TJ skips the pleasantries, and we all cram into my car, filling it to max capacity.

I asked TJ to drive on our way here because I couldn’t be trusted behind the wheel in this state, and thankfully, he takes it upon himself to drive again.

The car roars to life with a powerful start, and we take off down the street, the tires screeching against the asphalt.

“What if we’re too late?” I choke out, my sight blurred by tears I can’t control.

“We’re not,” TJ says to reassure me, and I know he’s just saying that to make me feel better when, in fact, he has no idea, but I appreciate it nonetheless.

We don’t know the neighborhood, so all we can do is drive around and pray to God that we’ll see her. Somewhere. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll still be on their walk. Maybe they haven’t gotten her yet.

Please let us be lucky.

“Kelsea, you been here before?” TJ asks.

“Huh, yeah. For a few parties,” she admits. I bet she never thought she’d live to see the day where she’d willingly give that kind of information to her brother.

“Okay, I’m officially never trusting you again when you say you’re having a sleepover with your friends, but I can’t give you shit for that right now. Can you think of any isolated spots where he could be taking her? An abandoned building? Anything?”

She stops to think as we’re speeding down the street. “I overheard some guys at the party talking about an abandoned factory. A paper mill, I think? They said that’s where they were meeting their dealer later, so I’m guessing it’s not out in the open, but I’m not sure. I… It might be nothing.”

“Or it might be something,” TJ counters.

I pull up the address of the only paper mill in the vicinity.

“Got it. Turn right.”

We’re three minutes away. The air in my lungs grows thinner with every mile we cover, but I do my utmost to mask it, clenching my fists as tightly as I can to contain myself.

I guide TJ through a series of quick turns until we enter an industrial part of town. We drive for another minute.

Then we see it.

The paper factory.

It sits by the river and a large parking lot.

Tall.

Imposing.

Forgotten.

The closer we get, the more noticeable the graffiti covering every inch of the exterior becomes. The building bears visible marks of time, deep cracks spreading across the foundation and structure. The road leading to the factory is littered with trash, which can be heard crunching under my tires.

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