I took Ruby’s hand and led her toward the small door.

The study was dark, lit only by a single desk lamp in the corner.

There was a leather sofa, a small table, and a wall lined with leather-bound books.

Through the glass panel, I could see Nathaniel’s office clearly, but the glass was dark from his side.

Ruby sat down on the sofa, clutching her empty cider mug like a shield.

I stood close to the glass, my breath fogging the surface slightly before I wiped it away with my sleeve.

Outside in the hallway, the elevator dinged.

The heavy wooden doors of Nathaniel’s office slid open with a soft hiss.

Arthur Dunleavy walked in, wiping rain from his bald head with a handkerchief.

He looked smaller in this massive, high-ceilinged office, but his eyes were still sharp and greedy.

“Nathaniel,” Arthur said, his voice carrying clearly through the hidden speakers in the study.

“We have a serious problem at the apartments.”

He stopped when he noticed the two empty chairs and the half-empty mug of cider on the table.