Chapter 2 - The Safe Room ProtocolsThe service corridors beneath the Grand Monarch Hotel were cold, narrow, and smelled of damp concrete and industrial cleaning agents—a sharp, surreal contrast to the opulence of the ruined ballroom above.
Leonardo pulled Meline through a heavy steel fire door, locking it behind them with an iron bar before turning to face her. Dante and two blood-stained security guards stood at the end of the hall, their weapons raised toward the access stairs.
Meline leaned against the concrete wall, gasping for air, her navy hotel uniform torn at the shoulder, her hair falling out of its neat bun. She looked down at her hands—they were shaking violently, covered in a fine layer of white plaster dust from the destroyed ceiling.
"He's dead, boss," Dante reported in a quiet, gravelly voice, lowering his sidearm. "The shooter took a cyanide capsule the moment we breached the mezzanine. Professional. No identification, no phone, no serial numbers on the rifle."
Leonardo didn't seem surprised. He removed his silk cufflinks, rolling up the sleeves of his blood-spotted white dress shirt. "And the seating chart?"
"We secured the paper from the floor," Dante replied, handing a clear plastic evidence bag to Leonardo. "The replacement printout was made on an internal hotel printer located in the executive offices on the fourth floor at four-fifteen this afternoon."
Leonardo took the bag, examining the sheet of paper with cold, calculating eyes. Then he turned his gaze toward Meline.
She backed away half a step, her instincts screaming. "I didn't print that. I didn't change your seat!"
"I know you didn't," Leonardo said quietly.
"Then why are your men looking at me like I'm a suspect?!" she demanded, her fear finally giving way to a burst of defensive anger. "I saved your life! I brought you that chart because I noticed the error!"
"You noticed an error that three other coordinators ignored," Leonardo said, taking a step toward her. The claustrophobic corridor seemed to shrink around his imposing presence. "You noticed eighteen inches of difference in a room of three hundred people. Why, Meline?"
Meline swallowed hard, her pulse racing. "Because I designed the layout! I spent six weeks memorizing every detail of that floor plan. I knew where you were supposed to sit because... because..." She hesitated, closing her eyes.
"Because what?" Leonardo pressed, his tone dropping into a low, dangerous register.
"Because your security detail demanded eighteen specific conditions for your arrival!" she snapped, opening her eyes to glare at him. "Including a seat that faced the main entrance, away from the service exits, with a three-foot clearance behind your chair! When I saw you moved to Seat Two, it broke every single rule your chief of security gave me!"
Leonardo stared at her for a long, silent moment.
Dante let out a low whistle from the end of the hall. "She's right, boss. Those were the exact specs I gave the hotel manager last month."
Leonardo lowered his gaze to the plastic bag in his hand. A dark, dangerous realization seemed to settle over his sharp features.
"The fourth floor," Leonardo said softly, looking at Dante. "Who has access to the executive office printers after four o'clock?"
"Only senior management," Meline answered, her voice trembling as the implications sank in. "General Manager Vance... and the director of hotel operations, Marcus Sterling."
Leonardo didn't hesitate. He reached out, grabbed Meline gently but firmly by the upper arm, and pulled her toward the heavy freight elevator at the end of the corridor.
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"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice rising in panic as the heavy steel doors slid open.
"We are going to find out who sold my life for a bribe," Leonardo said coldly, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the fourth floor. "And until I do, Miss Brooks, you are not leaving my side."
