The lobby plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.
The blue-white flash of the basement transformer still burned in Julian’s retinas, leaving floating purple afterimages against the black.
The air smelled intensely of scorched copper, melted varnish, and sharp electrical ozone.
“Nobody step forward,” Julian said, his voice cutting through the dark with flat, steady authority.
“I have my hand on Clara’s chair,” Elena said from his right. Her breathing was fast, but her voice was controlled.
“Lin Mei,” Julian called out. “Where are you?”
“I am right beside the desk partition,” Lin Mei answered. “I didn’t move.”
High above them in the shadows of the two-story lobby, the heavy bronze chandeliers swayed on their iron chains.
