The heavy silver keycard felt like a block of ice in Clara’s palm.

Long after the heavy steel door had clicked shut, leaving her alone in the brutalist silence of her bedroom, she remained seated on the edge of the mattress. Julian’s words echoed in the cavernous space, reverberating against her r

The red emergency lights pulsed like a frantic heartbeat, painting the brutalist walls of the armory in violent flashes of crimson.

Clara shoved the digital pad into the waistband of her jeans, pulling her dark turtleneck down to conceal it. The klaxons wailed overhead, a mechanical scream that dr

The heavy oak door to Clara’s bedroom had been splintered off its hinges, the wood fractured like shattered bone. Julian Thorne stepped over the wreckage, his custom suit speckled with the blood of the men he had just slaughtered in the east corridor. The klaxons of the estate’s alarm system screame