It was the sound of glass shattering, followed by the sharp, metallic tang of a gunshot.

The sound of running footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase at the end of the hall.

Someone was coming up.

Alexander pulled me back, his hand moving to the inside of his jacket.

From the shadows near the stairs, a figure emerged.

The light from a flashlight swept across the walls, blinding us for a fraction of a second.

The beam settled on Alexander’s face.

“Step away from the maid, Hawthorne,” a voice called out from behind the light.

It was not the voice of a guard.

The door to the music room behind us suddenly clicked.

It swung open an inch into the darkness.

My hand found the brass handle of the door before the man with the flashlight could react.

I shoved Alexander backward into the dark room.

I scrambled in after him, grabbing the heavy edge of the door and pulling it shut.

The magnetic lock engaged with a sharp click as the auxiliary power sputtered back to life.

“Elena?” Alexander’s voice was a low whisper in the dark.