Trapped - Cold Storage

The metal door slams shut behind you with a clang that echoes way too loudly.

Nick stares at it. Then at you. Then back at the door. “…Tell me that was supposed to happen.”

It wasn’t.

You’re locked inside a cold storage warehouse, breath fogging the air as the temperature drops. Outside, the criminal’s laughter fades. He planned this. Split you up. Trap you.

Nick shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over your shoulders without thinking. “Hey. Don’t look at me like that. Foxes get cold too—I’m just better at suffering quietly.”

The lights flicker. Your comms crackle, then die. Nick’s joking tone softens. “Okay. We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before hypothermia starts being rude.”

He starts pacing, eyes scanning vents, ceiling beams, anything. “You trust me?” he asks suddenly.