Chapter 2 - Ground Zero
Weightlessness lasted for half a second before the emergency brakes engaged with an ear-splitting grind of tearing iron. The elevator dropped three floors and slammed to an abrupt halt, tossing Clara across the cabin. She struck the floor hard, scrapes searing her knees.
Strong hands caught her before her head hit the brass handrail. Silas hauled her upright effortlessly in the dark, pinning her shoulder securely against his chest. Even in total darkness, his breathing was slow, utterly undisturbed by the near-plummet.
"Stand still," Silas ordered, his lips near her ear.
A faint red glow sparked as he produced a sleek tactical lighter. In the crimson flame, his face was all sharp angles and predatory calm. Above them, through the ceiling vent of the elevator car, heavy boots landed with a hollow thud.
Marcus’s voice echoed down through the shaft, distorted by iron and concrete. "Silas Croft! I know that’s you in there! Step aside. The girl belongs to the House of Moretti! You have no claim on her!"
Silas reached toward his waistband, drawing a suppressed semi-automatic pistol from a concealed holster with fluid grace. He glanced down at Clara, whose hands were violently shaking.
"Did your father work for Arthur Moretti?" Silas asked, ignoring the shouting above.
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Clara froze. Her father had been a quiet accountant who disappeared six years ago, presumed dead in a river accident. "How do you know my father?"
Silas looked up at the ceiling hatch, raising his weapon. "Because your father didn't drown, Clara. He stole the ledger."
