The lights in the hallway outside began to flicker again, casting long, jumping shadows across the carpet.

“Claire?” Elena asked, noticing my expression. “What is it?”

I did not answer, my hand gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

A loud, metallic crash echoed from the elevator bay down the hall.

The sound of the security alarms began to wail through the ceiling speakers.

The backup generators hummed, then died.

The boardroom went pitch black.

The red emergency lights blinked to life, casting a bloody glow over the boardroom.

The wail of the siren overhead was deafening, a high-pitched screech that vibrated through the glass walls.

I felt Elena’s hand grab my forearm in the dark, her grip firm and reassuring.

My phone screen glowed in my hand, the warning message still burning into my eyes.

“What is going on?” Harrison shouted, his voice cracking from the far end of the table.

“Don’t move,” the first officer commanded, his flashlight beam cutting through the gloom.

The beam caught Patricia’s face, washing her out in a harsh white glare.