Page 2 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
The stack wobbles with each movement. Halfway up, a corner of one crate crumbles beneath my boot, sending me lurching sideways. My heart leaps into my throat as I windmill my arms, barely regaining balance.
Fuck!
Once steady, I continue my ascent, finally reaching high enough to grip the window ledge. The boards covering it move easily under pressure.Has someone loosened the nails?I push one board aside, creating a gap large enough to squeeze through.
Inside, the warehouse is a study in contradictions. A thick layer of dust coats abandoned machinery and fallen ceiling tiles, exactly what you'd expect. But footprints cut clean paths through the dust, and certain areas look mysteriously well-maintained.
I drop silently to the concrete floor, camera ready. The musty smell of decay fills my lungs, but underneath it lingers something else—that antiseptic scent of industrial cleaner.
In the corner sits an ancient desk covered in cobwebs—except for one drawer that appears to be recently handled. Across the room, cables run neatly along a wall to a section that was painted not too long ago.
What the hell is going on here?
Most telling is the faint electronic hum pervading the space. Not the normal sounds of an abandoned building or distant traffic, but the unmistakable signature of active equipment.
My phone confirms what my instincts already know—there's Wi-Fi here. A locked network labeled simply "CT-Secure."
I start questioning myself. Am I making connections that aren't there? Seeing patterns because I want to find meaning in Jenny's death?
But no—the wrongness of this place prickles my skin. Abandoned buildings don't have power and active security systems. They don't have clean paths through dust or freshly painted sections. They definitely don't have password-protected Wi-Fi networks and shouldn't feel... occupied.
I trace my finger along a clean seam in the wall where the paint doesn't quite match. This is exactly the kind of incongruity Jenny would have noticed. She had an eye for details others missed.
Jenny wouldn't have given up. Neither will I.
A door at the far end of the room stands slightly ajar, revealing darkness beyond. Something about it draws me forward—maybe the fact that it's the only door in the space without a layer of dust on the handle.
I check my watch. I've already spent ten minutes inside. The smart play is to leave now, process what I've found, and come back better prepared.
But deeper in the warehouse, something glints in the beam of my phone's flashlight—something metallic and decidedly out of place among the abandoned equipment.
Just five more minutes. Then I'm out.
I move toward it, stepping carefully to minimize noise. My footsteps echo softly on the concrete floor as I move through the vast, empty warehouse. The immense space seems to magnify every tiny sound.
A distant metallic clang echoes through the building.
I freeze.
I'm not alone.
I hold my breath, straining my ears. The metallic clang echoes again, followed by what sounds like a door closing. Footsteps. Multiple sets.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I duck behind a rusted conveyor belt. The beam of my phone flashlight cuts out instantly as I shove it into my pocket. Darkness engulfs me, save for the faint glow filtering through broken windows.
"Security sweep complete on levels one and two," a male voice calls from somewhere in the building. Professional. Authoritative.
Someone's using this warehouse actively, not just dumping old junk here.
I need to move. Now. But first, I need to see what caught that reflection.
Staying low, I creep toward the metallic object I spotted earlier. My eyes adjust to the darkness, revealing outlines of machinery and support columns around me. Thewarehouse floor is a maze of abandoned equipment, but certain pathways have been cleared.
"What the hell?" I whisper, fingertips brushing against a smooth metal panel embedded in the wall. It's a keycard reader—brand new, with a tiny green light blinking steadily.
My journalistic instinct screams that I've stumbled onto something big.
