POV: Aurora
When we get out of the elevator on the twelfth floor, I instinctively turn right, toward my usual hallway.
Dante turns left.
"The elevator at the end," he says. "Let's go."
"That's not ours," I reply.
"It is today."
The hallway is emptier, fewer pictures, more sensors. The air smells different: clean cement, cold metal... and him. Wet forest, contained storm. My body recognizes him before my head does.
At the end is another elevator, narrower, no mirror, with a double reader.
Dante places his wristband on it. Then he looks at me.
"Put yours on," he orders.
I do. Green light. The door opens with a sound more like a safe than an elevator.
"How romantic," I murmur. "Shared access."
That worries me more than an alarm would.
Inside, there are no buttons, just a smooth panel where he rests his hand. We start going down. No ding, no numbers.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Down," he replies.
"That's not an answer."
