Henry’s stomach dropped. He flattened himself further against the counter, heart hammering so loudly he feared they might hear it. Shadows danced across the polished floor as the flashlight’s beam swept back and forth, searching for any sign of movement.
He clenched his jaw and forced his mind to focus. The silent alarm had been triggered, and the high-value rooms were already locked down—but the intruders didn’t know that yet. They only saw shadows, heard faint noises, and were growing increasingly uneasy. Every second counted.
A breath caught in his throat as the first burglar took a tentative step forward, flashlight still scanning. Henry scanned the desk for anything he could use—a diversion, anything to throw them off. His fingers landed on a small stack of brochures. He grabbed a handful, slowly tossing them to the far side of the lobby. They fluttered to the floor with a soft patter.
The burglars froze, the light jerking toward the new noise. “Over there!” one hissed, stepping toward it. Henry didn’t move, barely daring to breathe. The plan was working—their attention had shifted, and he had precious moments to maintain the illusion of the empty, silent building.
He whispered to himself, almost inaudibly, “Come on… just a little longer…” The minutes stretched taut, every creak of floorboard and rustle of paper amplified in his ears. Help was on the way, and he had done everything he could to stall until it arrived.