He screamed, a sharp sound of agony.

I scrambled out from the other side of the row.

The remaining guard was waiting in the doorway.

He didn’t have his gun raised, expecting me to be easily handled.

I lunged forward, throwing the flashlight directly at his face.

He ducked, and I used the distraction to slip past him into the hallway.

The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows down the corridor.

I ran toward the wine cellar, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Behind me, I heard the guard shouting and Marcus groaning as he freed himself.

“Don’t shoot her!” Marcus yelled. “We need her alive!”

I reached the heavy wooden door of the wine cellar.

I pushed it open and slipped into the cool, damp room.

The smell of fermenting grapes and old oak was overwhelming.

Rows of iron wine racks stretched into the gloom.

I ran down the center aisle, looking for the small service elevator.

It was tucked into a stone alcove at the very back.

I reached the alcove and pulled the brass key from my pocket.