Level 7's observation deck was empty, the view of distant stars providing cover for the conversation we needed. Sabine stood at the railing, hands white-knuckled on the metal.
“Personal probability calculator,” she said, voice tight. “That's a life sentence. Chained to his office, calculating odds until his paranoia decides I'm plotting against him.”
I moved behind her, close enough to feel her trembling. “That's not happening.”
“You can't just?—”
“We go tomorrow night.” The words came out rough, barely controlled. “During his pre-first-shift crash, before he gets any more interested in you.”
“Tomorrow? But we planned?—”
“Plans changed.” I moved closer, close enough to feel her warmth, smell the fear-sweat she'd hidden at the table. “He's fixated on you now. Every hour we wait increases the risk.”
She looked up at me, those hazel eyes calculating odds. “Your fangs are out.”
I hadn't realized, my body positioned to shield her from threats that weren't there. Yet.
“Tomorrow night,” I repeated, forcing control. “We get the Regalia and get out.”
“And us?” she asked, the question hanging between us. It was about more than logistics.
“We do this together,” I confirmed.
She nodded, some tension leaving her shoulders. “I should get back. Empty table looks suspicious.”
“Be careful.”
“I always am.”
She wasn't. She was brave and brilliant and taking risks that terrified me. But tomorrow night, we'd make our move.
SABINE
Footsteps echoed behind me, their precision military, deliberate. I’d just finished changing into my uniform in the near-empty staff corridors when the voice cut through the quiet of the late fourth shift.
“Reeves.”
Kreeg stood between me and the main corridor, his usual forgettable features sharp with purpose. The careful neutrality he wore as armor had vanished. His hand shot out, gripping my upper arm hard enough to make me gasp.
“We need to talk. Now.”
He steered me into an empty break room, shoving me inside before closing the door. The fluorescents buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across his face.
“I need everything on the Vinduthi.” His fingers dug deeper into my arm. “Where he goes, who he talks to, what he's planning.”
“You're hurting me.”
“The Administrator wants a full report. Tonight.” His other hand slammed against the wall beside my head. “He knows you've been meeting. We have recordings from Level 8's observation lounge. The private gaming room on Level 19.”
My stomach dropped, but I kept my expression steady. Think. Calculate. Give him something believable.
“He propositioned me.” The lie came out smooth, practiced. “Private dealing services. Exclusive games.”
Kreeg's grip loosened slightly. “And?”
“I maintained contact to gather intelligence, like you asked.” I met his eyes directly, selling the story. “He's interested in investing. Casino technology, specifically.”
“What kind of technology?”
