Mohini stepped out of the service elevator into the dimly lit corridor of the unfinished floor. The air smelled of plaster dust and fresh paint. She had stayed late for the client meeting, her formal-modern black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse still clinging to her after hours in the conference room. The main elevators had stopped working, or so the building manager had claimed over the phone. The service elevator was her only way down.

The doors slid open with a metallic groan. Four men in dusty work clothes stood waiting. Construction workers finishing the night shift. Their eyes moved over her body in a way that made her step back instinctively.