ROXIE

The gravity of the fifty-story drop disappeared the moment the dark, confined air of the laundry tube swallowed me whole.

I didn't have time to scream. The smooth, galvanized steel of the vertical tunnel zipped past my back at a terrifying speed. I friction-burned my palms against the metal walls, trying desperately to slow my descent as the pitch-black void rushed upward to meet me.

A split second later, the tube angled sharply outward, and I launched through the opening, crashing hard into a mountain of stale, linen tablecloths.

The impact knocked the wind out of me, filling my lungs with the scent of bleach and dust. Before I...