The air was cold, smelling of rain and ozone from the storm outside.

We walked in silence, our footsteps muffled by the thick rugs.

Behind us, I could hear Celeste’s sharp heels clicking on the hardwood of the dining room as she moved.

She was following us.

“Alexander, please,” Celeste called out from the darkness behind us.

“You are walking into an ambush.”

“She is working with whoever is at the gate.”

“Think of your son.”

Alexander did not stop.

His hand was on my shoulder, guiding me forward, but also keeping me close.

I could feel the tension in his grip.

We reached the double doors of the music room.

I swiped my keycard against the reader.

The reader beeped twice, a dull, red light flashing.

The lock remained engaged.

“The power is too low,” I whispered.

“The magnetic lock won’t release.”

Alexander leaned his weight against the heavy wood.

“There is a manual key,” he said.

“Where is it?”

“In the butler’s pantry,” I replied.

“But that is on the ground floor.”

“Near the service entrance.”

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the floor below.