The warehouse stood like a forgotten giant at the edge of town, its rusted frame silhouetted against the faint glow of the city beyond. Daniel parked his car a few blocks away and made his way on foot, keeping to the shadows.

The air smelled of damp metal and oil, thick with the weight of abandoned industry. He pressed his back against the cold brick wall near the entrance, scanning the area. No movement. No sound except the occasional drip of water from a broken pipe.

Then he heard it - a soft cry.

His heart pounded as he stepped inside. The space was massive, filled with towering crates and forgotten machinery. A dim yellow bulb flickered above, casting eerie shadows. And there, in the center of the room, was a chair.

Emily.

Her blonde hair was tangled, her face pale, her wrists bound with thick rope. She lifted her head, her green eyes widening.

"Daniel?" she whispered, her voice weak but desperate.

He rushed forward, reaching for his knife, but before he could cut the ropes, a slow clap echoed through the warehouse.

Daniel froze.

From the darkness, a man stepped forward - tall, suited, with a smirk that sent a chill down Daniel's spine.

"We knew you'd come," the man said.

Two more figures emerged behind him, both armed.

Daniel clenched his jaw. It had been a setup from the start.

But what they didn't know was that Daniel had come prepared, too.