A heavy body hit the metal filing cabinet with a loud clang.

“Killian!” Aries shouted.

A gun fired, the muzzle flash lighting up the room for a fraction of a second.

In that brief light, I saw Killian sprinting toward the back exit.

Then the darkness returned.

I heard a heavy door slam open, letting in the sound of pouring rain.

A cold wind swept through the broken window, bringing the smell of salt and diesel.

“Aries?” I called out.

“I am here,” his voice came from the dark.

A match scratched against a box, and a small yellow flame flickered to life.

Aries stood near the desk, his face pale and smeared with soot.

His gun was in his hand, pointed at the open doorway.

The office was empty except for us and the dead man in the chair.

Killian was gone.

“He took the fire escape,” Aries said.

He dropped the match and pulled a small flashlight from his pocket.

The beam of light cut through the dust and smoke.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking down at me.