The warehouse’s air was thick with the tang of rust and saltwater, the flickering sodium lights casting jagged shadows across the steel vault door. Lena Hart—Eleanor Whitmore—stood frozen, her breath shallow. She checked and the key to the locker was also still safe in her pocket. 

Julian Kane’s cold smile gleamed as he dangled the severed finger, its ring unmistakably Victor Grayson’s, a grotesque key to the biometric lock. His words—“Step into my game”—hung like a ...