The cat walked away with a limp, leaving a single drop of blood on the concrete. Nobody noticed except the janitor, who sighed and wiped it up before his shift ended.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Claire standing inside, her reflection sharp against the polished steel. Ethan stepped in beside her without a word, pressing the button for the lobby. The silence between them was a living thing—calculated, comfortable. The scent of her perfume was subtle, something floral layered beneath a colder, more metallic note. Like secrets hidden beneath propriety.
Two floors down, the elevator shuddered to a halt. The lights flickered once, then steadied. Ethan didn’t react, but Claire’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around her bag strap. A crackle of static hissed through the intercom before cutting out. No distress call, no canned apology from building security. Just the hum of machinery idling in place.Ethan reached into his jacket pocket—slowly, telegraphing the movement—and withdrew a slim silver keycard. It caught the light like a blade. "They’ve upgraded the system," he said, sliding it into the emergency panel beneath the buttons. "New protocols after the incident last month." His tone was casual, but the weight of the unspoken incident lingered between them. Claire exhaled through her nose, a sound too quiet to be a sigh.The elevator jerked back to life, descending smoothly. Outside the steel doors, the building’s heartbeat thrummed—distant footsteps, the whir of vents, the occasional muffled laugh from some unseen corridor. But inside, the air was taut. Claire’s phone buzzed once in her bag. Neither of them acknowledged it.