Chapter 4 — Pressure Points

Olivia

The elevator hummed faintly, the only sound in the suffocating stillness. Olivia had spent the better part of the last ten minutes pressing buttons and calling for help, her polished nails tapping insistently against the panel as though sheer determination could will the power to return. It hadn’t. Her phone lay useless in her hand, its screen mocking her with the absence of service bars. Now, she leaned against the cool steel wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her tailored blazer pulling awkwardly at her shoulders. She tugged at the lapel in vain, trying to smooth it out. The crease felt like a symbol of everything spiraling out of order.