GARRISON

"Too late for the elevators," Julian’s voice crackled one final time through the speaker, the audio cutting out into an empty, static hiss before the intercom line went entirely dead. "The main power line for the executive floor just got cut. We're on backup generators. They're in the stairwell."

A split second later, the bright overhead lights in my private office flickered twice and died, plunging the massive room into a dim, amber twilight cast by the rain-blurred windows. The heavy mahogany doors groaned, the loud electronic clink of the security system deactivating automatically as the grid failed. The magnetic locks clicked open from the outside, rendering our primary...