The lockdown didn't just happen; it slammed down like a guillotine.
One second, the Obsidian Hotel was a bustling hub of luxury. The next, it was a tomb. Steel shutters descended over the main entrances with a deafening clang. The elevators froze in their shafts. The wifi cut out. Every door, every window, every ventilation shaft was sealed by a combination of high-tech security protocols and ancient, blood-fueled wards.
In the center of the penthouse, Ethan stood like a statue carved from ice and fury. He was no longer the grieving lover on his knees. He was the Rogue King, and he was hunting.
"No one leaves," he said. His voice was quiet, but it carried through the comms system to every Silverclaw guard in the building. "No one enters. And no one lies."
The order rippled through the
