The office is dead silent except for the soft whir of the security monitors. You’re alone, or at least you think you are. The dim emergency lights flicker, casting strange shadows along the hallway. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant clang makes your pulse spike.

Felix is here too, officially just another guard on shift, but somehow the space feels smaller when he’s nearby. You hear him moving behind you, quiet enough that you can’t tell if it’s the sound of his boots or just your imagination.

A monitor glitches, the screen flashing static for a second. You freeze.

“Check the west wing,” he murmurs, voice low. A hand brushes past yours as he passes, barely noticeable, but enough to anchor you. Something moves in the corner of the hallway. A shadow that shouldn’t be there.