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From inside the suite comes the sharp hydraulic snap of a portable spreader. The bastard came prepared. He is attacking a narrower partition with the correct tool while I am fighting two security bolts designed to withstand a forced entry from the hall.

That is how he intends to reach her first.

I drive the bar deeper and pull again. Wood splinters around the reinforced frame, but the lower bolt remains seated.

"Tell me what you hear."

"The tool stopped."

I freeze, listening.

"Has the door opened?"

"No."

"Then he is listening for you. Do not move."

"I'm not planning a dance."

Even now, she gives me that sharp edge of herself. For one insane second, I nearly laugh.

Then the spreader snaps again.

Once.

Twice.

The dressing-room frame tears with a violent crack.

"Adrianos."

Something in her voice changes.

"I'm here."

"The frame is bending."

"Stay behind the bed. When he enters, do not let him get close enough to take the gun."

I brace one foot against the wall and haul on the breaching bar until pain tears through my shoulder. The lower bolt shifts a fraction.

Another impact sounds. Then Elena inhales sharply.

"He's through."

My entire body turns to ice. "Wait until you have a clear shot."

The next sound is a gunshot.

Everything inside me stops.

"Elena!"

No answer.

I wrench the bar sideways with enough force to tear the lower bolt out of the damaged frame. The door jumps open three inches, still held by the upper lock. I force the bar higher and drive it between the door and frame again.

Something heavy strikes the floor inside the bedroom.