The Broken Bridge

"I have to go back," Mateo whispered.

He was in the mailroom of Universe A. It was late, the building silent except for the hum of the ventilation.

He needed proof. He needed to know the specific date of the coup in Universe B so he could stop it in Universe A. The timelines were synchronous.

He shoved the spiral key into the elevator slot. His hands were shaking, not from fear, but from urgency.

He turned it hard to the left.

* Snap.*

The sound was sickening. A dry, metallic crack.

Mateo froze. He looked at the key. The handle had sheared off in his hand. The spiral shaft remained buried deep in the lock.

"No," he breathed. "No, no, no."

He jammed his fingernails into the slot, trying to pry the broken piece out. It wouldn't budge. He pounded on the brass panel. "Let me in! Take me back!"

The elevator remained dead. The lights didn't flicker. The smell of jasmine didn't come.

He was trapped. Trapped in the cage. Trapped as the Mouse.

Suddenly, the building’s alarm system blared. A low, rhythmic whoop that signaled a security lockdown.

* CODE BLACK. EXECUTIVE LEVEL.*

Mateo’s blood ran cold. Code Black meant an threat to the Don.

It was happening. Tonight.

He looked at the ceiling. Forty floors up, Luca was making his move. And Mateo was stuck in the basement in a polyester uniform, armed with nothing but a broken key and a memory of what it felt like to be a King.