Chapter 4
The sudden darkness swallowed the hallway whole, leaving only the faint, distant hum of the ballroom’s emergency generators through the heavy walls. Elena froze, her hand still holding the leather-bound ledger. In the pitch black, the sound of breathing changed. It was no longer just Julian’s panicked gasps. A third, heavier set of footsteps was approaching from the direction of the loading dock, moving with deliberate, silent precision.
“Julian?” Elena whispered into the void, keeping her back pressed against the cold concrete wall. “Stay close to me.”
“Ms. Ross?” Julian’s voice trembled from somewhere to her left. “I… I hear something.”
Before the warning could fully form in her mind, a heavy thud echoed down the corridor, followed by the sound of scuffling fabric and a muffled grunt. A body hit the concrete floor with brutal force.
“Julian!” Elena shouted, lunging forward through the dark, her hands outstretched until they collided with a warm, struggling form.
Her fingers brushed against the rough fabric of a canvas jacket—not Julian’s cotton apron. She threw her weight backward, attempting to pin the intruder, but a powerful arm wrapped around her waist with crushing force. The ledger slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“Give it back, Elena,” a gravelly, unfamiliar voice hissed near her ear, smelling faintly of expensive scotch and cheap tobacco. “Some books aren’t meant to be read by outsiders.”
With a sharp twist, Elena used her heel to bring her shoe down hard on the intruder’s instep. A sharp curse filled the dark hallway as the grip around her waist loosened just enough for her to break free. She stumbled forward, colliding with a metal utility cart that rattled loudly, sending a cascade of mops and buckets crashing down between them.
The distraction bought her a precious few seconds. Elena dropped to her hands and knees, sweeping her palms frantically across the cold concrete floor in search of the leather ledger. Her fingertips brushed against the smooth, damp leather just as a harsh beam of light cut through the gloom.
A heavy-duty flashlight clicked on, blinding her temporarily. Standing at the end of the hallway was a man in a dark trench coat, holding the beam steady. Behind him, Julian was slumped against the wall, unconscious, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder.
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“Don’t move,” the man in the trench coat said, stepping forward with heavy, rhythmic boots. He reached inside his coat, his hand resting ominously on the butt of a concealed firearm. “Mrs. Vance sends her regards, and she’d really like her property returned before things get complicated.”
Elena stood up slowly, clutching the ledger tightly against her chest with one hand while her other hand slid quietly into her suit jacket pocket, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal body of her emergency distress beacon.
