Just at that moment, a gunshot suddenly rang out from below. Soon after, another followed.
Aiwass felt a slight tightness in his heart. But his pace down the stairs didn't quicken; it actually slowed significantly.
He pressed himself silently against the wall, tiptoeing down the stairs. Meanwhile, he drew the pistol from beneath his coat, holding it slightly lowered and hidden in the shadow of his slightly larger sleeve.
Unlike when Aiwass arrived, the lamps at the entrance were now lit.
From a distance, he saw a young man with brown hair and handsome, deep-set features holding a gun, standing at the reception desk. The smoke from the muzzle of the gun had not yet completely dissipated.
The frail young man who had previously been lying on the counter was now twisted and collapsed backwards onto the shelves, lifeless. He had been shot in the forehead and the chest, his blood slowly seeping out.
