The air in the sub-basement smelled like a crematorium, but all Jane could taste was pine and copper.
Above them, the penthouse levels of the Thorne estate were burning, baking the concrete ceiling until it radiated a suffocating, oven-like heat. The emergency sprinklers had failed hours ago. Ash drifted down through the ventilation grates, catching in Elena’s perfectly blown-out golden hair like dirty snow.
Elena held the modified tranquilizer rifle steady. The silver-loaded dart in the chamber gleamed under the flickering emergency strobes.
Jane didn't look at the barrel of the gun. She looked at the Elite guard standing to Elena's left. He was shifting his weight, his combat boots squeaking slightly on the wet concrete.
"Are your dampeners on?" Jane asked him.
Her voice didn't echo
