Only the distant hum of the building's ventilation system echoed softly through the concrete shaft stretching from the first floor to the twenty-fifth.
Kai slowly exhaled.
"Maybe someone just dropped a table," he suggested quietly, more hopeful than convinced.
Erik didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped closer to the steel railing overlooking the open center of the stairwell.
The condominium had been designed around a large hollow atrium. Every emergency landing overlooked the floors beneath it, separated only by polished stainless-steel railings and evenly spaced emergency lights recessed into the concrete walls.
Normally...
Sound traveled surprisingly well.
Children laughing near the lobby could often be heard several floors above.
Neighbors arguing over parking spaces.
Someone practicing the piano.
A dog barking from a balcony.
The building had always felt alive.
Today...
The silence between every sound felt heavier than the sounds themselves.
