His fingers were warm, contrasting with the icy sweat on my skin.

“I didn’t expect you to find the transfer codes so quickly,” he said.

“You’re a better analyst than I gave you credit for.”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, my voice dry.

“It’s a fact,” he said.

Suddenly, the lights in the bedroom flickered.

The hum of the air conditioning died, leaving the room heavy and warm.

Outside, the distant sound of a generator kicking on vibrated through the floorboards.

“They just cut the main power,” Adrian whispered.

He pulled me closer, his grip tightening.

“We go now,” he said.

He led me into the hidden corridor behind the closet.

The steel door slid shut behind us with a heavy, pressurized thud, sealing us in darkness.

Only a strip of low LED lights along the floor illuminated our path.

“Where does this go?” I whispered, my voice echoing off the metallic walls.

“To the wine cellar,” Adrian said. “And the secure garage.”

We walked quickly, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the rubberized floor.

My phone buzzed in Adrian’s pocket.