The heavy brass deadbolt of Suite 114 remained firmly locked, but the suffocating psychological tension inside the room was expanding rapidly, pressing against the mahogany walls with the physical weight of a rising tide.
Ren stood over the glass-topped writing desk, his broad shoulders casting a dark, imposing shadow over the twelve glowing, icy blue monster cores lined perfectly in a row. The cloying, artificial scent of synthetic lavender pumped through the vents violently clashed with the rich, heavy sandalwood soap radiating from Chloe's damp skin. All of it was entirely undercut by the sharp, coppery stench of Major Sterling's arterial blood soaking Ren's ruined grey hoodie. The ambient LED light reflected off the dark, cracked polymer screen of the military datapad resting flat on the glass surface.
Ren pressed his blood-stained thumb directly against the recessed power button on the side of the heavy tablet.
