The magnetic lock on the service door clicked.

The heavy iron door began to swing open.

But it wasn’t Elena’s men who had opened it.

A bright light shone through the gap from the other side.

I squinted against the glare, my finger freezing on the trigger.

A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light.

It wasn’t Nora.

It was someone else, and they were holding something heavy in their hands.

The silhouette was smaller than I expected.

It was Nora.

She was carrying a heavy brass chemical canister she had taken from the utility closet.

Before Elena’s guards could raise their rifles, Nora slammed the canister’s brass nozzle against the concrete doorframe.

A deafening hiss tore through the narrow corridor.

A thick, white cloud of pressurized fire-retardant powder erupted into the space.

“Cover!” Marcus shouted.

The powder choked the air, turning the corridor into a blind, white void.

Elena screamed, her voice muffled by the chemical fog.

Her mercenaries fired blindly into the dark.

The muzzle flashes illuminated the swirling powder in brief, orange bursts.

I dropped to my knees, keeping my head below the rising cloud.