I don’t hesitate.
That’s the first mistake Adrian always expects me to make, so I make sure it isn’t one. I step into the corridor the spotlight revealed with my gun raised and my spine straight, every sense pulled tight and tuned. The light behind me clicks off the instant I cross the threshold, sealing the gallery away like it never existed. No gradual fade. No warning. Just darkness swallowing what came before.
The dark wing breathes differently.
It isn’t just colder. It feels alive in a way the rest of the hotel didn’t. The air clings to my skin, damp and heavy, sinking through fabric and into muscle. It smells like mold and rust and old water, the kind of scent that never really leaves once it settles into stone. It carries age. Neglect. Time layered so thick it feels tactile.
The
