A server drifts by, and Estella lifts another champagne flute from his tray with a flawless smile. She offers it to Theodore, and he takes it with the eagerness of a man who’s never refused anything in his goddamn life, then lifts it to his lips and drinks.
I move with the crowd, slipping behind columns and clusters of guests until I’m just out of sight. But even if I stood directly in front of him, Theodore wouldn’t notice—he’s already ensnared by her presence, her poise, her poison-sweet charm. In minutes, her smile unlocks him completely. He talks and talks and talks, his words spilling like an uncorked bottle.
Then, he touches her. His hand casually settles on her arm, and the muscle in my jaw knots so hard it aches. Jealousy sparks like electricity under my skin, bright, ugly, and immediate. Every instinct in me screams to intervene, to peel his fingers off her, to crush the bones until he learns what belongs to him and what fucking doesn’t.
But I stay where I am. I swallow the fire and let it burn me from the inside out.
For now.
Because if I lose it, we won’t make it out of here alive.
What pulls me out of my focus is a vibration thrumming through my pocket—a sharp, insistent buzz that slices into the moment. Without tearing my gaze away from Estella and Theodore, I slip my hand inside my jacket, pull out my phone, and tap the green button with maybe too much force.
“You there?” Jason’s voice grates through the line.
I bite down on a rising wave of irritation. “Yes. I can’t talk now.”
“Get to the base once it’s over,” he says, hanging up before I can respond.
He could’ve texted that. One fucking sentence. That’s all.
I shove the thought aside, burying it somewhere deep, and slip the phone back into my pocket. Ahead of me, Theodore tilts his head to the side, curling his fingers around Estella’s arm as if he has any claim to her. She glances over her shoulder—just a flicker, careful not to give us away—before letting him lead her.
I’m already moving.
I trail them at a distance, close enough to intervene, far enough not to draw attention. They peel away from the glittering ballroom and slip into a quieter artery of the mansion—a narrow service corridor that hums with the faint scent of lemon polish and worn leather. A door releases with a soundless click, blending into the paneling beneath a gilded portrait. It slides open with a soft pneumatic sigh, the kind reserved for secrets and staff, not guests.
A stairwell yawns downward. Cooler air rises from below, brushing against my skin with a metallic tang—copper, old coins, dusty files, the smell of the lives rich men keep locked underground. The stone steps angle into shadow, wide but low-ceilinged, forcing anyone who descends to bow their head, as if paying reluctant reverence.
My footsteps echo hollowly on the slate. Thin, recessed lights stripe the wall, throwing slanted amber pools along the descent, just enough to see shapes but not faces. Above us, the party muffles into a muted thrum, like the house itself is swallowing the sound whole, letting it vibrate through the bones of the structure.
We pass a cavernous wine chamber, all exposed stone and arched ceilings. Rows of rare bottles rest on custom racks, eachcradled like a relic, labeled in copper tags that glint in the low light. Theodore speaks to Estella in a tone soaked with boastfulness, offering her a tour, and she nods, humoring him, playing her role perfectly.
My hand stays in my pocket, fingers curled around the lethal drug. But the corridor isn’t empty—staff members drift through occasionally, appearing and vanishing like ghosts, forcing me to stay patient and silent, slipping into the pockets of the walls so I won’t draw attention. Tension grows in my shoulders, spreading swiftly through the rest of my body, especially when I’m forced to wait for them to pass.
There’s no room for mistakes down here.
We move past the Staff Kitchens—the beating heart behind the mansion’s polished facade—and Theodore walks her to the end of a hallway where the air grows denser, then pushes a door shaped like a heavy steel slab open. The moment it swings inward, I glance behind to ensure no one is watching, then move fast, slipping inside just as it begins to close. I catch it with my shoulder, the metal whispering against me instead of slamming.
Inside, Theodore stands with his back to me, oblivious. Estella waits in the center of the room, poised and ready, her eyes snapping to mine the second I enter.
Everything drops into place.
I close the distance in a few silent steps. The needle sinks into the side of Theodore’s neck so fast he only has time for a single, sharp gasp. His body jerks, then collapses forward, limbs buckling beneath him. I catch him by the collar and lower him slowly to the floor, listening as his breath shudders once before stopping entirely.
“Good job,” Estella says, her voice edged with pride. She gives me that quick, knowing smirk before pacing the perimeter of the room.
“Thank you,” I say, motioning with my hand for her to follow. “It’s time we go. Come on, baby.”
She doesn’t even glance at me. Instead, she drifts deeper into the room, moving through an ordinary space at first glance—except for the fact that we’re underground.
“There’s something about this room,” she murmurs, her words dissolving into the quiet. She glides toward the small bookstand, her fingertips skating across the spines before pulling a few out. “He told me he was going to take me somewhere interesting.”
I part my lips to respond, but the moment she slides out a black book with a thin red band, a sound vibrates through the room. Silence pools around us for a heartbeat before another pulse cuts through the air, followed by the unmistakable groan of a mechanism coming to life.
Instinct takes control. I surge toward her and yank her back from the shelf, but she isn’t afraid. She looks fascinated. Her eyes brighten as the bookcase shifts outward, revealing a concealed door hidden behind it.
The passage beyond is narrow, pitch-black. So dark the walls disappear into a single void. No air moves, no draft—nothing. Which means this isn’t a corridor leading somewhere; it’s a chamber meant to stay hidden.
