Emma was coming home from a late gym session. She was wearing sports bra and tight leggings damp with her sweat, hair packed in a messy ponytail, earbuds still in.
The blackout hit at 8:47 p.m., right as Emma stepped into the elevator on the lobby level of the building where she lives.
The doors were closing when a hand shot between them.
A dude in his early thirties slipped in just in time. He wore a dark suit rumpled from a long day at work. His hazel eyes flicked over her once and appreciative before he nodded politely and faced forward.
She was going to floor 14. He pressed the buttons. 18.
The elevator started moving upward. Then, without warning, the lights cut out. The car stopped suddenly between floors with a metallic groan.
Emergency lights came on, a dim red glow that
