The tremor was subtle — just enough to rattle the old ceiling lights and send dust cascading from the rafters. But to Michael and Hazel, it felt like a bomb had already gone off in their chest.
Connor's voice barked through the comms.
"Boss, you need to hear this — our security feed at Graze Tower just cut out. All of it. Total blackout."
Michael grabbed Liam by the collar, hauling him upright. "What the hell did you do?"
Liam spat blood, grinning through swollen lips.
"Should've kept a closer eye on your own house, boy."
Hazel's heart hammered. "If you've hurt anyone—"
"Oh, darling," Liam smirked darkly. "You should worry less about the people and more about what's ticking under their feet."
Connor's voice cut through again. "Michael, it's bad. A gas line breach. And… and there's a device wired to the basement generators."
Michael's blood ran cold.
"How long?"
"Fifteen minutes. Maybe less."
The air turned heavy with dread.
Michael cursed under his breath and turned to Connor. "Get our men to the tower. Evacuate everyone. No one gets left behind."
Connor didn't hesitate. "On it."
Hazel stepped forward, fire in her eyes despite the fear clawing at her throat.
"What about the device?"
Michael's gaze met hers. "I'll disarm it."
"No," she shot back. "We'll disarm it."
Liam let out a low, sinister chuckle.
"Romantic, really. Going down together."
Michael struck him hard across the face, sending Liam to the floor.
"You won't get to watch."
To Connor, he snapped, "Secure him. Keep him breathing — for now."
Hazel grabbed Michael's arm as they headed for the exit. "If we don't make it—"
"We will," he cut her off, voice rough. "Because you still owe me a dance in that damn penthouse."
A shaky laugh bubbled from her lips, easing the knot in her chest.
Together, they sprinted out into the rain-soaked night, Connor's team moving in behind them to lock down the club. The streets blurred past in a rush of headlights, the city oblivious to the danger poised to turn its skyline to ash.
By the time they reached Graze Tower, chaos reigned.
Security guards ushered employees into the storm-drenched streets. Emergency lights painted the glass facade in eerie reds and blues. The police had been called, but no one knew the full scope yet.
Michael and Hazel didn't slow.
They raced through the lobby, down into the private elevator Michael alone could access. The descent felt endless.
When the doors opened, the generator room greeted them like a tomb — low hums, flickering lights, and in the center… a small metal device blinking ominously.
Hazel swallowed hard.
"How bad?"
Michael knelt, inspecting it. "C4. Industrial-grade. Enough to take out the lower floors and collapse the tower."
Hazel's stomach flipped. "Can you disarm it?"
A beat.
"I've done worse."
But as he worked, Hazel's gaze landed on something nearby — a single playing card left on the control panel.
The Joker.
Her blood turned to ice.
"Michael…"
But before she could finish, the timer ticked down to 00:30.....