Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the Corridor
The grip on Clara’s shoulder was ironclad, smelling faintly of gun oil and expensive cologne. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Marcus Sterling’s personal aide, a man who moved like a ghost through the halls of power.
"Take your hand off me," Clara said, her voice flat, devoid of fear. "Unless you want a scene that makes the morning papers look like a fairy tale."
General Marcus Sterling raised a single, commanding hand, signaling his aide to release her. The ballroom chatter hummed around them, a chaotic blur of laughter and clinking crystal glasses that felt completely detached from their reality. Eleanor Vance was dabbing at her brow with a silk handkerchief, her eyes darting nervously toward the exit.
"Not here," Marcus muttered, his eyes boring into Clara’s. "Service elevator at the end of the east corridor. Three minutes. If you’re not there, I promise you won't live to serve another drink in this city."
Clara offered a tight, humorless smile. "I’ve survived worse than an aging general with a guilty conscience."
She walked away with measured, unhurried steps, blending seamlessly back into the battalion of catering staff. Her mind raced. The confrontation in the ballroom was supposed to be the final phase of her plan, but pulling Marcus and Eleanor into the open happened faster than she anticipated. They were terrified, and desperate people made fatal mistakes.
Twenty minutes later, the service elevator groaned as it descended into the subterranean levels of the hotel. Clara stood alone in the dim, flickering fluorescent light, checking the hidden blade strapped to her ankle. The doors slid open with a metallic ping, revealing a dimly lit concrete hallway that smelled of damp earth and old steel.
Standing in the center of the corridor, waiting for her in the shadows, wasn't Marcus Sterling. It was a younger man with the same piercing eyes as the general, holding a file folder marked with a red classification stamp.
May you like
"My father sends his regards," the young man said, stepping forward into the light. "And I want to know why you wear my dead sister's arm on yours."
---
