The Choice

The warehouse rose out of the Seattle gloom like a bad memory. Corrugated steel, rust bleeding down the sides, a single security light buzzing over the loading dock. Marcus's text had given me an address and a promise: Sebastian is alive. Come alone. This is the only way.

I wasn't alone. Catherine had parked three blocks east, her car idling in an alley. Diana was on the west side, tucked behind a shipping container with a clear sightline to the main entrance. Neither of them liked this plan. Neither of them had a better one. That's the thing about impossible situations. They strip you down to your worst ideas.