I passed the guards, who were standing still with their hands up.

I stepped through the broken glass of the study doors.

The room was dark.

The air was cold, smelling of rain and the copper scent of old blood from the fight earlier.

I could hear Charles’s heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway.

He was moving fast.

He knew the layout of the house better than I did, but I knew where the servers were.

They were in the basement vault, behind a reinforced steel door.

I moved through the darkness, relying on the periodic sweep of the helicopter searchlights through the windows.

The light cut through the shadows, casting long, moving shapes across the walls.

I reached the basement door.

It was a heavy, fireproof door, and it was standing slightly ajar.

A faint, yellow light spilled out from the gap.

I pushed the door open.

The hinges squeaked softly.

I started down the concrete steps.

The air grew colder with every step.

It smelled of damp earth, concrete, and something sharp.

Gasoline.

I reached the bottom of the stairs.