Page 111

I waited.

“The elevators remain my greatest concern.”

“Explain.”

“They’re still the part of the building I trust the least. Every other point of entry is fixed. An elevator is dynamic. With the proper credentials, it can be redirected before anyone inside realizes it.”

“The override?”

“Still exists.” Marcus paused. “I’d restrict manual overrides to Security only until we understand what we are dealing with.”

“We can’t. Facilities uses them for freight, maintenance, and service access throughout the day. Routing every override through Security would bring half the building to a stop.”

Marcus considered it. “Then we monitor every manual override in real time.”

“Yes, do that.”

Marcus nodded.

“What about Emilia?” I asked.

“We’ve been taking advantage of routine disruptions where we can. Maintenance, deliveries, service traffic. If there’s a reason to send her through another entrance or elevator, we do.”

“Has she noticed?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Good. Keep the changes around her to a minimum.”

Marcus was quiet for a moment. “She would want to know.”

“I know.” I held his gaze. “Not yet.”

Marcus nodded once. “Good night, sir.”

After he left, I remained where I was. Of course she would want to know. She would read every report. Ask the questions none of us had thought to ask. Build a timeline. Challenge assumptions. Refuse convenient conclusions.

She would understand the threat. And then she would carry it.

Emilia would take it into the laboratory, into Aurora, into every conversation that followed. Once she knew, there would be no setting it aside. There was no reason to give her that burden yet.

When I returned to the bedroom, she hadn’t moved. One hand rested across the empty side of the bed. Winston had settled at her feet with a complete disregard for every rule I had ever attempted to establish.

The sapphire caught the faintest trace of moonlight.

I stood there for a long moment, watching my future wife asleep in our bed.

* * *

Victoria

The routine had changed.

I established this without difficulty, because routines are not opinions. They are data. Change one variable and the entire pattern changes. Until recently, Dr. Rossi entered through the eastern doors between six-fifty and seven-ten on weekday mornings and crossed the conservatory alone.

She no longer did.

A person’s routine cannot be hidden; it can only be changed. The evidence was everywhere. A different entrance. An unfamiliar face. A man stationed where no one had been standing the week before.