C75 The Sound of Footsteps

Arun didn’t know how long he’d been in the dark.

Minutes? Hours? It all bled together.

The air inside the warehouse was heavy — metal, dust, and oil. His wrists burned from the rope, his breath shallow from the taste of fear and anger sitting at the back of his throat.

He’d stopped calling for help hours ago. No one answered anyway.

When the door creaked open again