Glass rained down in the dark, sounding exactly like applause.
The fluorescent tubes overhead had shattered from the sheer atmospheric pressure of the roar, plunging the subterranean garage into the sickly, strobing red pulse of the emergency backups.
A loose thread on the cuff of Jane’s silk blouse brushed against her wrist. It was driving her crazy. Not the nine-foot-tall nightmare of midnight fur and matted muscle stepping out of the crushed elevator. The thread. She rubbed her thumb over it, feeling a bizarre, intense need for a pair of scissors.
The enforcers broke first.
The man closest to Ryan raised a modified assault rifle. He didn't bother aiming. He just held down the trigger. The gunfire was deafening inside the concrete box, flashing bright yellow in the red dark.
Three s
