The taxi rolled to a slow stop, its headlights casting long shadows over the grim, decrepit warehouse looming before them.
Stacy clutched her phone tightly, her only lifeline in a place that felt stripped of any warmth or hope.
Her heartbeat was erratic, hammering against her ribcage, each beat a reminder of the terror waiting within those walls.
The driver, an elderly man with kind eyes and a worried frown, turned to look at her as she prepared to step out.
"My dear, this place… it's never a good place," he said, his voice gentle but laden with unease. "Please, be careful."
Stacy nodded, trying to keep her face calm, though her hands trembled as she pulled her wallet from her purse.
She offered him the fare, then leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, sir, call the police in ten minutes. I beg you."