The smell of old cedar and motor oil filled my nose.

Then, the high-pitched wail of a siren cut through the heavy silence outside.

Red and blue lights began to flash through the cracked, frosted glass of the warehouse windows.

Vale froze, his hand still inside his coat.

The heavy metal side door of the warehouse slammed open with a loud, echoing clang.

“Police! Stay where you are!” a voice shouted.

Flashlights cut through the darkness from the entrance, their beams bouncing off the metal rafters.

Vale slowly raised his hands, the flashlight slipping from his grip and rolling across the floor.

It cast a spinning beam of light across the damp concrete before settling on a puddle of stagnant water.

Ana Brennan walked in behind the officers, her dark trench coat wet from the drizzle outside.

She looked at me and nodded, her face tight with relief.

“Are you alright, Alana?” she asked, helping me up from the concrete.

“I am now,” I whispered, brushing the gray dust from my palms.

Two officers moved quickly, pulling Vale’s arms behind his back and clicking the handcuffs into place.