The chilly night air nipped at Jocelyn’s cheeks, making them taut and prickly as though the skin wanted to c***k. Her gloved fingers, though protected, were chilled to the bone. She couldn’t help but squint as the cold air seemed to sting her eyes.
To make matters worse, it wasn’t like the air smelled of roses or fresh water. No. Around her, the air carried a pungent scent, a mix of old motor oil and a hint of something rotting. Maybe a dead cat. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
A few feet ahead from where they hid out of sight, the moonless night left the old abandoned warehouse looming in the darkness, casting an eerie and foreboding shadow that sent shivers down her spine. It almost looked like a scene in a horror movie just before the chainsaws came out to play.
“Damn. It’s cold,”
