The docks stretched out before us, shrouded in the heavy silence of the night. The streetlights flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows against the abandoned warehouses. The air smelled of salt and rust, a sharp contrast to the storm of unease brewing inside me.
Julian parked a block away from the warehouse Kaden was supposedly operating out of. The building itself looked like something straight out of a crime thriller - tall, rundown, and surrounded by chain-link fencing topped with barbed wire.
"This place screams 'bad idea,'" Danielle muttered, tightening her coat around herself.
I couldn't argue. Everything about this felt wrong.
Julian, however, was already scanning the perimeter. "There's a side entrance. If this guy is as shady as he sounds, I doubt he wants attention. We'll keep it simple - ask about the ring, find out who sold Daniel's things, and get out."
His voice was calm, but his fingers twitched slightly against his jeans. Even he knew this wasn't going to be that easy.
We moved quickly toward the entrance, our footsteps barely making a sound on the gravel. Julian knocked twice on the rusted metal door, a sharp rap that echoed into the quiet night.
A small slot slid open. A pair of cold, scrutinizing eyes glared out at us. "Who the hell are you?"
Julian kept his stance relaxed. "I'm here to see Kaden. We have some business to discuss."
The man inside scoffed. "You got an appointment?"
Julian smirked. "Didn't realize he required one."
For a second, I thought the door would slam shut in our faces, but instead, the man let out a low chuckle. "You've got guts. Wait here."
The slot snapped shut.
I exhaled, my heart hammering. "This is insane."
Danielle nudged me. "You wanted answers."
I did. But now that we were here, I wasn't sure I was ready for them.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway filled with the scent of stale smoke and old paper. We stepped inside, the metal door slamming shut behind us.
A man stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Kaden.
He was older than I expected - maybe in his late fifties, with graying hair slicked back and a scar running down the side of his cheek. His presence alone screamed experience, power, and a total lack of patience.
"Talk fast," he said, his voice gruff. "I don't do charity visits."
Julian wasted no time. "A few weeks ago, you ran an estate sale. I bought a wedding ring there. We need to know where you got it."
Kaden raised an eyebrow. "I sell a lot of things. You'll have to be more specific."
I stepped forward, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It belonged to my husband. His name was Daniel Carter. He - " I hesitated, the words catching. "He disappeared five years ago."
For the briefest second, something flickered in Kaden's expression. Recognition.
Then it was gone.
"Never heard of him," he said.
"Liar," Danielle snapped.
Julian shot her a warning glance but turned back to Kaden. "We know you don't deal with random junk. If Daniel's things ended up here, it means someone sold them to you. We just need a name."
Kaden smirked, stepping forward. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't a damn thrift store. People come to me when they want things buried - forgotten." His gaze locked onto mine. "If your husband's things ended up here, someone wanted them gone. And that means whatever story you think you know? It's incomplete."
A chill ran down my spine.
Julian kept his voice level. "Then tell us the full story."
Kaden sighed, rubbing his temples as if debating whether we were worth the trouble. Then, finally, he motioned toward a desk covered in paperwork. He rifled through a pile, eventually pulling out a folded slip of paper.
"Guy who sold the stuff didn't leave a real name," he muttered. "But he paid in cash, left a burner number, and only wanted one thing."
I frowned. "What?"
"To make sure none of it was traceable back to him."
He handed Julian the paper. There was only one thing written on it.
A number.
Julian's phone was already in his hand. Without hesitation, he dialed it.
The call rang once.
Twice.
Then, someone picked up.
A voice, distorted and low, answered. "I told you not to call this number."
I felt my breath hitch.
Julian didn't hesitate. "Then maybe you shouldn't have sold Daniel Carter's things."
Silence.
A long, tense silence.
Then, the voice spoke again.
"I suggest you stop digging."
Click.
The line went dead.
A heavy weight settled in my chest.
Whoever this was, they knew exactly what happened to Daniel.
And they weren't just going to let us find out.