From the staircase below, the sound of heavy boots echoed as the guards finally reached the second floor.

Lorenzo didn’t wait for them.

He started down the back stairs, his hand on his weapon, his face set in stone.

I followed him into the dark.

The concrete steps of the back staircase were cold beneath my thin-soled shoes.

The metal handrail vibrated under my palm.

Suddenly, a low, electronic hum reverberated through the walls.

The emergency red lights overhead switched off, replaced instantly by the harsh, white glare of the main security grid.

The backup generators had kicked in, or the main line had been restored.

“Sir!” a voice called out from the bottom of the stairwell.

It was Marcus, the head of Lorenzo’s personal security detail.

He and two other guards in black tactical gear came rushing up the steps, their boots thudding against the concrete.

Their weapons were drawn, their faces pale under the bright fluorescent lights.

Lorenzo stopped on the landing, his body shielding mine.

“The system is back online, Mr. Rossi,” Marcus said, breathing heavily. “We have the perimeter secured.”