Brandon came to with a gasp, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. His head throbbed with a deep, resonant ache that seemed to pulse in time with the low hum of the warehouse.
He tried to move, but his wrists were bound behind his back, the rough rope biting into his skin. His ankles were tied to the legs of a heavy wooden chair. He was trapped.
A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling above him, casting a harsh, clinical light that made his head pound even more. He squinted, his vision slowly resolving.
And he saw them.
There were two of them. Not one.
A man that looked like a wall stood, leaning against a crate. Scars decorated his face, giving him a hardened look and the light that glinted off his bald head made him look like a comic villian.
He made Brandon's blood run cold.
Standing with her back to him, facing the large, grimy window at the far end of the warehouse, silhouetted against the faint city glow was the woman from the doorway.
