Chapter 7 - THE TREAD OF THE HUNTER
Clare stood frozen on the soft corridor runner, her heart pounding against her ribs with the force of an engine. The air in the hallway felt suddenly colder, thicker, as if the oxygen had been drained from the space between the walls.
She looked at the brass plaque on the door beside her: 4227. Then her eyes darted down the long, empty stretch of carpet toward the far corner where the dark coat had slipped behind the marble pillar.
Every nerve in her body screamed at her to leave her cart, drop her tablet, and sprint for the emergency fire stairs. But she knew that running would make her a target. If the person at the end of the hall was watching Nicholas, anyone bolting out of his doorway would instantly become a variable to be eliminated.
Clare forced her breathing into a slow, deliberate rhythm. She adjusted her grip on her hotel tablet, pulled her shoulders back, and took a slow step toward her housekeeping cart parked three doors down.
She tried to act like a low-wage worker going about her mundane routine.
As she passed Suite 4221, she heard the soft, distinct sound of a door latch clicking open somewhere behind her—not Suite 4227, but further down the hall, near the service elevators.
Clare didn't turn around immediately. She kept walking until she reached her cart, reached for a stack of fresh white bath towels, and turned casually to face the corridor.
Walking down the center of the hall, moving with a slow, heavy confidence, was a tall man in a dark charcoal trench coat. He was in his late forty, with short, silvering hair cut in a tight military taper, and a broad, scarred jawline that looked as though it had been carved from granite. He carried no luggage, no hotel key, and wore no press badge.
His right hand was tucked deep inside the pocket of his heavy coat.
As he walked past Clare, his eyes swept over her with a cold, dismissive indifference—the look of an apex predator scanning a harmless herbivore.
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He didn't slow his pace. His steps were directed straight toward Suite 4227.
Clare held the towels against her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him approach the door she had just stepped out of three minutes ago.
