Chapter Forty- Six

Someone had just hit Turner. Who hit him? What hit him? Why did the person hit him? Now he’s unconscious.

He went blank, the next he saw was

finding himself regaining consciousness in the dimly lit warehouse, a cold shiver ran down his spine, amplified by the icy water that had been poured onto him. He struggled to move but found out he had been tied down.

"Why am I here?" Turner groaned, wincing from the throbbing pain at the back of his head, his hand instinctively reaching for the source of the discomfort.

Mr. Smith loomed over him, an enigmatic presence. "I need you, Turner," he said in a tone that held a hint of menace.

"Why? What's your game? Did you really need to tie me to ask me this?" Turner demanded, his voice laced with frustration.

With an air of mystery, Mr. Smith retorted, "I don't have time for questions. I need your help."

Turner, trapped in this unfolding drama, reluctantly nodded in agreement. He had his own motives, but for now, he'd play along with Smith's sche