We moved through the labyrinth. The ambient temperature had dropped significantly, the freezing draught biting at my exposed back and Jessica’s bare shoulders. I took the lead, keeping our hands linked, tracing the cold glass walls with my fingertips to map the shifting corridors. I wasn't hiding. I was hunting.Somewhere to our right, a heavy thud echoed, followed by a wet, choking gasp.I stopped, pulling Jessica flush against my side."Sloane," Jessica mouthed against my temple, her breath trembling.We crept forward, rounding a sharp corner. The red emergency lights pulsed faintly near the floorboards, casting long, demonic shadows. In the dim, bloody glow, a figure stumbled toward us.It was Brent.The former venture capitalist looked completely unhinged. His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt torn, and he clutched a jagged, broken bottleneck from the bar like a makeshift dagger. He was bleeding from a shallow cut on his forehead – a warning shot from Sloane, no doubt. She was
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