**DAMIAN POV**
The hotel should not still be standing.
That is my first thought as I pull up to the curb and cut the engine. The structure looms out of the darkness like a stubborn memory, refusing to collapse no matter how long it’s been left to rot. Once, it was pristine. Marble steps scrubbed clean every morning. Valets stationed at the entrance in crisp uniforms. Warm light spilling from every window like an invitation.
Now the windows are dark sockets. Several are boarded over. Others are cracked, glass spider-webbed and fogged with years of neglect. The sign above the entrance still bears the Thornton name, though half the letters are unlit, flickering weakly like they’re trying to die.
This place was never meant to look like this.
It was my grandfather’s pride. A statement piec
