The stairs groaned under a heavy, slow weight. One step. Two steps.
The light from the battery-powered lanterns flickered, casting long, monstrous shadows against the moldering concrete. A figure stepped out of the darkness and into the dim, amber glow.
It was a tailored, dark gray wool coat.
Handmade leather shoes that had never touched dirt, now stained with basement filth.
And a face that Olivia saw every day in the highest office in the city—sharp, angular, with storm-gray eyes that could freeze a man's blood with a single glance.
Dante Calvetti.