A flashlight beam cut through the darkness from the far end of the warehouse.

“Over here,” Yasmin’s voice trembled.

I walked toward the light, my wet boots squeaking loudly on the concrete.

She was standing near an old wooden crate, holding a leather handbag close to her chest.

Her hair was damp and flat, and her expensive makeup was smudged under her eyes.

She looked small and frightened, stripped of her usual cold elegance.

“Where is Ana?” she asked, her eyes darting to the dark entrance behind me.

“I couldn’t reach her,” I said. “She must still be in court or her phone is off.”

Yasmin cursed under her breath and took a step back.

“We don’t have time, Alana,” she said. “Mark is unstable.”

“He has completely lost his mind.”

“Tell me what is in those papers,” I demanded, stepping closer to her.

She clutched her handbag tighter, her knuckles turning white.

“They are the commitment papers,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Mark paid Dr. Vale fifty thousand dollars to sign them.”

“The plan was to have you picked up tonight by a private transport team.”