POV: Lina
The Noir Tower doesn't impress me. At this point, it should give me loyalty points.
I've spent more hours of my life between these elevators and the thirty-first floor than in my own apartment. What's new isn't the building; it's the pass they hung on me today.
"Medical wing. Exceptional access."
Translation: "We're going to let you go where they don't normally let anyone without an expensive last name breathe."
The guard walks in front of me, very straight, as if I were a fragile package and not a beta analyst in worn-out sneakers.
"You don't need to escort me as if I were going to steal a monitor," I say.
"Protocol, miss," he replies without turning around.
"Miss." I laugh inside. If he only knew how many emails I've accidentally deleted from your systems...
The elevator goes up fast. I know the way to reception, to Seraphim, to the cafeteria. But the button for the twelfth floor almost never lights up. Today it does.
