The stairwell smells like rust and old rain. Concrete dust coats the rails, chalky under my palm as I take the steps two at a time. My boots hit metal with a hollow ring that echoes upward, each strike bouncing back at me like a warning I don’t have time to read.
I keep moving.
Adrian always leaves a trail. He likes the sound of pursuit. He likes knowing I’m close enough to feel it in my bones. The building groans as I climb, a tired animal forced to run when it should already be dead. My lungs burn, not from fear, not yet, but from the pace. Sweat slicks the back of my neck, catches under the collar of my jacket, trickles down my spine in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.
I pass a landing where the light flickers. Exposed wiring buzzes softly behind a cracked panel. The sm
