The narrow service hallway felt tight and cold.
Seraphina and Damien moved through the darkness of the hotel's restricted back passages. Up here on the secondary service level, there were no carpeted floors or crystal wall lamps. There were only bare concrete walls, grey pipes running along the ceiling, and the quiet hum of heavy water heaters working in the dark.
Seraphina kept one hand against the wall to guide her steps, her green silk dress rustling softly as she walked. In her other arm, she held her father's black leather folder tightly against her chest.
Damien stayed right behind her. His hand was on his gun, his gray eyes constantly moving over the dark corners and metal doors they passed.
"The back stairs are fifty feet ahead," Damien whispered, leaning close to her ear. "If
