Chapter 8 - SHADOWS IN THE HALLWAY
Moretti took two measured, silent steps away from the bed. His eyes remained fixed on the door, his weapon held low at a ready position, hidden by his leg.
He glanced back for a fraction of a second. Lily was curled into a small ball on his high mattress, resting beside his dark, open laptop and the untouched cup of cold coffee. She was staring at him, her wide brown eyes filled with an eerie, unshakeable trust.
"Don't move from that bed," Moretti whispered.
Lily nodded once, hugging the rabbit tighter.
Moretti turned back and advanced toward the threshold. Every step was calculated, his weight rolling silently from heel to toe across the hardwood border, avoiding the subtle squeaks of the floor construction that only a man who had built the penthouse would know.
He reached the edge of the doorframe. He pressed his shoulder against the smooth wall, pausing for three long seconds to listen.
Nothing.
With a rapid, tactical pivot, Moretti stepped around the corner, clearing the threshold and sweeping his eyes down the long, private hallway that led toward the grand living area and the private elevator foyer.
The hallway was flooded with deep, dark shadows. The recessed ceiling lights were off. At the far end of the corridor, eighty feet away, the brass handles of the double entry doors gleamed faintly under the emergency exit light.
Everything appeared undisturbed. The framed art on the walls sat straight; the marble statues in the alcoves remained untouched.
Yet, as Moretti’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the corridor, he noticed something subtle—a tiny detail that would have escaped any normal observer.
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On the dark hardwood floor near the center of the hallway, a single drop of liquid glinted under the dim emergency light.
It wasn't water. It was fresh, wet, and dark.
