The entire building shudders, threatening vibrations grasping the foundation and forcing small but ominous quakes through the frame. A chorus of terrified screams rise from the dance floor, carrying down the hallway, only lowering in volume when my father's commanding voice orders them to cease. My gaze darts from one end of the hallway to the other, searching for witnesses who aren't there. I bite my bottom lip as the club shakes ominously once again, and I silently debate my options. I could just leave, of course. I have no obligation to save anyone. I haven't in a long time. The building trembles once, twice, three times in succession. This time, a framed painting tumbles off the wall, slamming to the floor not far from my feet with an audible crack. The trembling continues, evenly repetitive. My face twists in annoyance. I know what unnaturally large footsteps feel like.
