The air was stale and thick with dust, every breath tasting of rust and time. The warehouse stretched out before them like a decaying beast—long-abandoned, half-collapsed in places, and utterly silent save for the low hum of wind slipping through cracks in the metal siding.
Callen moved first, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness in a tight arc. His eyes scanned the corners, the stacked crates, the rusted-out forklifts that hadn't been touched in years. He was calm, but alert—every footstep deliberate.
Nell followed a half-step behind, her own light catching flecks of dust in the air. Her shoulders were tense beneath her tactical jacket, but there was a steadiness in her that belied her size. She didn't rattle easily.
"You always take me to the nicest places," she muttered, her voice low and dry. The sarcasm helped break the tension.
Callen didn't glance back. "This is L.A. real estate at its finest," he said evenly.
Nell stepped over a collapsed wooden pallet, the boards splintered and charred from some long-past fire. "Seriously. One of these days, we should go somewhere that doesn't have tetanus in the air."
"You said you wanted more field work." He smirked.
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't realize it came with rats and structural instability."
Ahead, something shifted in the shadows. It was subtle—so faint it could've been imagined. Callen's posture didn't change, but his flashlight narrowed, locking onto the far end of the warehouse where the shadows seemed darker than they should've been.
Nell edged forward, curiosity piqued. "Anything?"
He shook his head slowly. "Could've been the wind."
But they both knew better.
Still, Nell moved forward, just slightly ahead of him now. Her steps were careful, her focus absolute. Then—CLANG.
A metal pipe tumbled from above, striking the ground with a sharp, ringing noise. It rolled and clattered to a stop near a rusted metal beam.
In a heartbeat, Callen reacted—his arm shot out, catching Nell across the chest and halting her instantly. She tensed, eyes wide, and turned to look at him.
His face was like stone—expression unreadable, eyes scanning. Without a word, he stepped in front of her. The gesture was instinctual. Subtle. Protective.
Nell felt a flicker of something—not fear, but awareness. Of him. Of what that gesture meant. She stayed behind him, watching his back like he was watching hers.
Callen moved forward, sweeping the flashlight across a stack of shipping containers. Somewhere ahead, something scraped softly. A breath. A footstep. The air shifted.
Outside the warehouse, across the lot, Kensi hunkered behind a rusted-out pickup truck with a pair of binoculars pressed to her eyes. She scanned the building's windows, trying to get a bead on movement inside.
Next to her, Deeks sat on the ground, legs stretched out, munching on an energy bar like it was a picnic.
"Think they're bored yet?" he asked between bites.
Kensi didn't answer at first. Her brows furrowed as she caught the flicker of a flashlight beam inside.
"Knowing Callen? They're about two minutes away from either making a big discovery—or getting shot at."
Deeks chuckled, unwrapping another bar. "Probably both."
Back inside, Callen approached a doorway leading into a side corridor. The door hung crooked on its hinges, barely attached. He glanced back at Nell, who gave a single nod.
He turned, raised his weapon, and nudged the door open with his foot. The creak echoed like thunder in the stillness. Beyond it, a hallway stretched out, darker than the rest. The flashlight flickered across graffiti-covered walls and what looked like old office doors—one slightly ajar.
Nell stepped up beside him now, back in position. Her voice was quiet.
"Think we're alone?"
Callen's eyes didn't leave the corridor. "No."
And then—from somewhere ahead—a voice. Distant. Male. Angry.
Callen looked at Nell, eyes sharp. "You still glad you came?"
Nell raised an eyebrow. "Ask me after we survive this."
Together, they slipped into the darkness.