The lock shattered.
Sarah kicked the penthouse door a second time, putting her full weight behind the boot.
CRACK.
The wood gave way. The door swung inward, banging against the wall.
"Metro PD! Hands in the air!"
She swept the room with her weapon, adrenaline spiking her heart rate.
No one fired back.
The room was silent, except for the high-pitched sobbing of a woman in a black waitress uniform, curled up behind the wet bar.
Sarah cleared the corners fast. Empty.
She moved to the center of the room. Darius Krell lay on the oriental rug, staring at the ceiling with wide, glassy eyes. He wasn't breathing.
Sarah checked his pulse. Nothing.
She tilted his head. There was no blood, no bullet wound. Just a tiny, silver needle buried deep in the side of his neck.
"The Ronin," Sarah w
