"Right." He takes my hand, and we push through the glass doors into the cool afternoon air.
An hour feels eternal. We grab coffee at a place two over, neither of us drinking much. Julian keeps checking his phone. I keep replaying what we're about to do—illegal, reckless, necessary.
When Raine finally texts, we're back on the street in seconds.
He arrives carrying an industrial briefcase that looks like it could survive a nuclear blast. Black hoodie, ripped jeans, that same cocky smirk.
"Damn, girl. You look stressed."
"Can you just—"
"I got it, I got it." He hefts the case. "Lead the way."
I pull out my phone with shaking fingers and dial Colleen's number again, praying she's still at home. The line rings once, twice, and my stomach clenches with each passing second. Finally, she picks up.
"It's me again," I say, trying to keep my voice steady and casual. "We forgot something upstairs."
There's a pause, and I can practically hear her considering whether to ask questions. But she doesn't. The intercom buzzes almost immediately, that electronic click of the lock releasing echoing through the lobby like a starting gun.
"Thank you," I breathe into the phone, but she's already hung up.
Bless that woman. Bless her lack of curiosity and her willingness to just let things slide without interrogation.
The lobby feels different this time. Heavier. Like the walls know what we're doing.
My hands shake a little as we wait for the elevator. Julian squeezes my shoulder.
"Last chance to back out," he murmurs.
"No." My voice comes out stronger than I feel. "We finish this."
The elevator doors close around us, and my heart climbs into my throat.
His office smells like stale cologne and old paper—that expensive stuff Daniel always wore mixed with the musty scent of forgotten files and dust that's settled into every corner. My stomach twists into tight, uncomfortable knots. The air feels thick, oppressive, like it's pressing down on my chest with every shallow breath I take.
Raine drops his briefcase on Daniel's desk with a thud that makes me flinch. He cracks his knuckles, all business now. "Alright, let's see what we're working with."
He pops open the case—rows of cables, drives, gadgets I don't recognize. Pulls out something sleek and black, plugs it into Daniel's tower.
"I need to boot from an external device. Bypasses the login screen entirely." His fingers fly across the keyboard. "Pretty standard encryption for a civilian. Amateur hour, really."
I can't stand still. My feet carry me back and forth across the worn carpet—three steps, turn, three steps back. Every creak in the hallway outside spikes my pulse.
Julian leans against the doorframe, eyes on his phone, one ear trained on the corridor. We worked out the escape route on the way up—fire escape, run two buildings over, circle back to the car.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry, and silently pray with everything I have that we won't need any of those carefully mapped-out escape routes—that we can just walk out of here like normal people, undetected and unseen.
"How long?" My voice comes out thin.
"Patience, grasshopper." Raine doesn't look up. "Genius can't be rushed."
I shoot him a glare. He grins.
Minutes crawl by like hours. I yank my phone from my pocket, the screen lighting up my anxious face in the dim room. No missed calls. No texts. My thumb hovers over the screen for another second before I shove the phone back into my pocket, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pull it out again barely thirty seconds later—an compulsive tic I can't seem to control—and check one more time, just to be absolutely certain. The screen stares back at me, blank and unhelpful. Still nothing.
"In." Raine leans back, triumphant. "Told you I was good."
I practically dive across the desk. The desktop loads—folders, files, icons scattered like breadcrumbs.
