Chapter 2 - The Service Corridor
The fluorescent lights of the service corridor flickered with an irritating, low-frequency buzz. Sofia hauled the heavy man along the narrow passage, his heels dragging against the linoleum. Every shadow that danced past the frosted glass doors felt like a gun barrel leveled at the back of her head.
""My car,"" the man wheezed, his head lolling against her collarbone. His skin was burning up now, the paralytic toxin doing strange, feverish things to his nervous system. ""Sub-level three... gray coupe... key in my pocket.""
""We can't go to sub-level three,"" Sofia hissed under her breath, maneuvering him around an industrial laundry cart. ""They just drove down. If they realize you’re not in that chair, the ramps are the first place they’ll check.""
She shoved open the door to the linen storage room, dragging him inside and letting the latch click into place. The room was warm and smelled overwhelmingly of bleach and folded cotton. She collapsed against a towering stack of towels, letting the man slide gently down the wall into a sitting position.
He leaned his head back against the painted drywall, panting shallowly. The silver wristwatch on his arm caught the dim emergency light—it was a luxury timepiece, understated but unquestionably worth more than her annual salary.
""Who are you?"" Sofia demanded, her chest heaving as she wiped a strand of loose hair from her sweat-dampened forehead. ""And who the hell is Vane?""
The man chuckled, a dry, rattling sound that turned into a ragged cough. He pressed the heel of his hand against his temple, as if trying to hold his skull together.
""My name is Julian Thorne,"" he murmured, his voice gaining a sliver of clarity as his metabolism fought the drug. ""And if you’re smart, you’ll never say that other name again. Marcus Vane owns half the shipping docks in the city, the mayor's office, and three-quarters of the board of directors of this hotel.""
Sofia felt the blood drain from her face. ""The Elysium? Vane owns the Elysium?""
""He's acquiring it tonight,"" Julian said, his dark eyes fixing onto hers with sharp intensity. ""A hostile takeover. The current majority shareholder was supposed to sign over his proxy vote in a private dinner on the penthouse floor at midnight. That shareholder is my father.""
The pieces fell into place with sickening speed. The two enforcers hadn't been an isolated mugging. It was an orchestrated hit to clear the board, staged in the hotel's private executive garage while the gala roared thirty stories above them.
""I have to get to the penthouse,"" Julian said, struggling to pull himself up using a metal shelving unit. The shelves rattled violently, threatening to topple boxes of industrial detergent.
""You can't even stand, Julian!"" Sofia said, rushing forward to steady him. ""You take two steps into the lobby looking like this and security will drag you straight to Vane's men.""
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""Then find another way,"" Julian whispered, his fingers gripping her wrist with unexpected strength. ""There’s a master keycard in my jacket. If my father signs those papers, my sister and I are dead by morning. Please.""
Before Sofia could answer, the doorknob of the linen room gave a sharp, deliberate jiggle.
