The express elevator gave a muted chime as the digital display locked onto 48. The brushed-steel doors parted with a quiet hiss, and the heavy silence of the floor was instantly shattered.
Karl stepped out first, flanked by a squad of six heavily armed enforcers in matte-black tactical gear. Suppressed rifles and submachine guns were already raised, sweeping the space in tight, disciplined arcs.
Karl's face was twisted in an ugly grin, his blood humming with the savage thrill of an easy execution.
They moved into the private reception lobby that opened directly from the elevator bank.
Karl expected to see Naomi cowering behind the reception counter. He expected to see Alex Hale's corpse slumped in a spreading pool of dark blood.
Instead, the lobby was dead silent. Empty.
There was no body on the floor. There was no weeping wife clutching signed documents in terror.
