The mahogany doors of Suite 904 loomed before Ethan like the gates of a medieval fortress, heavy and indifferent. Inside, the suite was a masterclass in modern luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows framing the neon heartbeat of the city, velvet upholstery in shades of midnight blue, and a king-sized bed adorned with Egyptian cotton. But to Ethan, the room felt like a sterile cage.

Victor Vance—a towering, slab-shouldered man with a jagged scar running from his ear down his thick neck—stepped into the suite. Behind him stood two armed security operatives, their hands resting menacingly on the tactical batons clipped to their belts.

Victor’s cold, dead eyes scanned the darkened living area before locking onto Ethan and Lupita standing by the window.

"Well, well," Victor drawled, his voice a gravelly rumble that sounded like grinding stones. "Late-night housekeeping meetings. How touching. Mr. Pendelton sends his regards and asks if you’re enjoying your stay, Mr. Vance."

Ethan stepped in front of Lupita, shielding her with his body. He kept his hand firmly inside his jacket, gripping the heavy brass paperweight.

"Get out of my room, Victor," Ethan said, his voice ice-cold. "You're trespassing in the private quarters of the Grand Regent's owner."

Victor let out a harsh, barking laugh that echoed off the luxury wallpaper. "Owner? Kid, you own a piece of paper signed by a senile old man who spent his last year drooling into a pillow. This hotel belongs to the men who write the real checks. And right now, those men are very concerned about what was in that backpack of yours."

Victor signaled to the two guards, who fanned out, blocking the main exit and the hallway leading to Lily’s bedroom.

Panic surged through Ethan’s veins. Lily. She was sleeping just thirty feet away. If these monsters took a single step toward her room, Ethan knew he wouldn't survive the night—and neither would she.

"You want the backpack?" Ethan said, stalling for time as his eyes darted frantically around the room for an escape route. He slowly unzipped the front pouch of the leather bag. "It's right here. Take it. Just leave the staff out of this."

Victor smiled cruelly, taking a slow step forward. "Oh, we’ll take the bag, Ethan. And then we’ll take a nice, quiet walk down to the service basement. There’s a faulty freight elevator down there. Very tragic history of mechanical failures."

Lupita let out a suppressed sob behind him.

Ethan’s hand closed around something solid inside his jacket pocket—not the paperweight, but his smartphone, which was currently dialed to emergency services on a silent, open line he had triggered while talking to her. The screen was dark, but the call was active. Connect. Come on, connect.

"You're a coward, Victor," Ethan spat, stepping sideways to draw the guards' attention away from the bedroom door. "Just like Pendelton. You hide behind corporate lawyers and hired thugs because you're terrified of what my father built."

Victor’s face contorted with rage. The insult hit its mark. He lunged forward, closing the distance in two giant strides, his massive hand reaching out to grab Ethan by the throat.

"I’ll show you a coward!" Victor roared.

At that exact microsecond, Ethan didn't dodge. He ducked beneath Victor’s swinging arm and drove his heel backward with every ounce of strength he possessed, smashing it directly into the shin of the nearest security guard.

The guard screamed, buckling to the floor.

Simultaneously, Lupita—fueled by pure adrenaline—grabbed a heavy silver floor lamp and hurled it directly into the path of the second guard, sending it crashing down with a deafening metallic screech.

"Run!" Ethan screamed, grabbing Lupita’s arm.

They bolted not toward the main door where Victor was recovering his balance, but toward the connecting service balcony that wrapped around the exterior of the ninth floor. Ethan slammed the glass sliding door shut behind them, throwing the heavy security latch just as Victor’s fist smashed against the reinforced glass, splintering it into a spiderweb of cracks.

"This way!" Lupita cried, pointing toward a metal spiral staircase used for fire evacuations.

The freezing night wind whipped around them as they sprinted across the narrow metal grating high above the city streets. Below them, the glittering lights of the metropolis stretched into infinity. But behind them, the heavy metal door of the balcony burst open.