The heavy, rhythmic click of Geney Ford's designer heels had barely faded into the distant architecture of the VIP corridor before the silence of the private suite shattered.
The brass lock on the door groaned, turning from the outside with a swift, decisive mechanical snap. The door glided open, throwing a narrow light from the hallway across the deep crimson shadows of the room before it was pulled shut once more, locking automatically behind the newcomer.
Gloria had entered the arena.
