Chapter 9 - The Belly of the Beast
The steam tunnels were a labyrinth of hissing iron pipes, dripping condensation, and suffocating heat. They moved in silence, Hollis acting as Elena’s crutch, guiding her through the subterranean veins of the city toward the foundation of Halloran Tower.
By eleven-thirty, they reached the reinforced steel maintenance hatch marked *HT-SUB-4*.
Hollis swiped her magnetic badge. The reader blinked red, then green. The hydraulic lock hissed open, revealing the cavernous, concrete basement of Halloran Tower.
The air here smelled different—filtered, crisp, expensive.
Hollis helped Elena into a supply closet near the freight dock, sitting her down on a stack of industrial paper towels. Elena was shivering again, her skin clammy, her physical reserves completely exhausted.
"Stay here. Keep the door locked from the inside," Hollis commanded. "I'm going up to the sixty-fifth floor alone."
"Hollis, no!" Elena grabbed her wrist, panic flashing in her eyes. "Dante’s guards will shoot you the second the elevator doors open! They don't take messages from cleaners!"
"They won't shoot if I have this," Hollis said, holding up the crumpled note with the Moretti seal, alongside the silver serpent key. "And they won't shoot if I tell them you have ten minutes left to live if they don't call a real surgeon."
Hollis pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, zipped her custodian jacket up to her chin, and stepped out onto the loading dock.
She walked toward the private executive freight lift—the massive, stainless-steel car reserved for moving fine art and heavy safe deposit boxes into the penthouse. She slotted her master key into the brass override cylinder and pressed the button for Floor 68: The Penthouse.
The elevator hummed to life. The numbers on the digital display began to climb.
*10... 25... 40... 55...*
Hollis felt her pulse hammering in her ears. Her hands were sweating inside her pockets. If she died here, who would protect Toby? Who would take him from the chapel?
*I will survive this,* she told herself, gritting her teeth. *I survived the streets, I survived the cold, and I will survive these men.*
With a smooth, chime-less stop, the elevator arrived.
The heavy steel doors slid open.
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Before Hollis could take a single step, the cold muzzle of a suppressed submachine gun was pressed directly against the center of her forehead.
***
