The grand lobby of Ispire Inc. was a masterpiece of cold, intimidating architecture. Soaring ceilings of polished obsidian, pillars of white marble, and floors so reflective they looked like the surface of a dark, frozen lake. Usually, this space was a cathedral of corporate power, but tonight, the atmosphere was thick with a far more primal tension.
Sierra stood in the center of the vast expanse, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her fingers were white-knuckled where they gripped the edge of Theron's overcoat. She felt small not just because of the massive lobby, but because the shadow of her past had finally caught up with her in the place where she felt safest.
Standing near the revolving glass doors was Mark.
