She nods, taking a deep, steadying breath. The frantic, redlining biometrics I saw on my screen earlier are gone, replaced by a calm, cold determination.
"I’m ready," she says. "Let’s go back to the house. I want to see the boys. And I think I’m ready for that briefing."
I smile, packing up the thermos. "Let’s go home."
As we walk back to the car, she slips her hand into mine. It’s a small gesture, tentative, but it feels like a victory greater than any safe we could ever crack. We’re not just planning a heist anymore. We’re building a foundation for our future while we destroy the foundation that Aris Thorne has built her empire on.
Chapter 8 – Blue (February 11)
The drive back to the Airbnb with Damon is quiet, but it’s not the awkward silence of strangers. It’s the comfortable, heavy silence of two people who just shared a moment. He drives with one hand on the wheel, his other resting on the center console, close enough that I could reach out and lace my fingers through his if I were brave enough.
Spoiler alert… I’m not. I’ve already crossed so many of the lines I’ve set against them that I can’t help but pull back a bit again.
When we pull up to the rental, the warm glow of the windows cuts through the San Francisco fog. It looks like a postcard for a life I don’t have, a home, warmth, people waiting for me. Inside, the smell of roasted garlic and oregano hits me like a physical embrace. Andre is at the stove again, stirring a massive pot of pasta sauce. Marcus is sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, throwing a squeaky toy for Skipper, who launches herself into the air with the grace of a gazelle and the coordination of a potato.
"She’s home!" Marcus cheers, rolling onto his back and grinning up at me upside down. "And she brought the nerd back. Bonus."
"Be nice or no fresh bread for you," Damon fires back, holding up a bag of crusty bread he must have had stashed in the car.
Andre turns from the stove, wiping his hands on a towel. His gaze sweeps over me, checking for damage, for cracks. He lingers on my face, reading the aftermath of my breakdown on the pier, but he doesn't push. He just nods.
"Food in ten," he tells me. "Then we brief."
We eat around the kitchen island. It’s casual and intimate. Damon steals bread from my plate. Marcus refills my water glass before I even realize it’s empty and Andre watches it all with a patriarch’s satisfaction. It’s terrifyingly functional. Once the plates are cleared, the mood shifts. The domestic cozy evaporates, replaced by a razor-sharp professional focus. Damon clears the table and sets up his laptop, projecting a floorplan of the Napa estate onto the white wall of the living room.
"Alright," he says, his voice dropping into that cool, analytical tone. "The Heart of Gold Auction. February 14th. Target: The Heart-Box safe in the master study."
He taps a key, and the schematic zooms in on the north wing of the estate.
"Demi has the runner access, that gets her inside the perimeter and into the service corridors. She’s the ghost. She moves trays, checks coats, and then slips into the study when the timing is right."
"The study is in the executive wing," I add, pointing to the map. "Thorne keeps it locked during events, but the runner keycard should override the mag-locks on the hallway door. Thesafe itself is the problem. We need three minutes uninterrupted to let the bypass script run."
"Three minutes is a lifetime at a party like this," Damon muses, spinning a pen between his fingers. "Especially with Thorne. She’s a micromanager. She’ll be checking in with security constantly."
"That’s where we come in," Andre says. He points to the main ballroom on the map. "I’ve secured a spot on the catering crew working the main bar. Should give me a good vantage point to watch the entire room. I can track security movements, keep an eye on the exits, and signal if anyone breaks away toward the executive wing."
I raise an eyebrow. "You? A bartender?"
Andre smirks, crossing his massive arms. "I pour a mean drink, Blue. And nobody pays attention to the help. I’m just the guy keeping the glasses full. I’m the eyes on the ground."
"Okay, so Andre is onsite overwatch," I say. "But what about Thorne? Someone needs to keep her occupied. She can't just be wandering around."
"Leave the Dragon Lady to me," Marcus smirks, standing up and bowing with a flourish. "I’ve got myself an invite."
"What? How? Security is tight - that's one of the reasons I went with the plan of being an employee."
"Don't ask me, I'm just the face, baby. Damon worked his magic on the guest list database," Marcus says with a wink. "Allow me to introduce Julian Vane, eccentric tech investor looking to diversify his portfolio into 'holistic wellness.' I’m going to be rich, charming, and very interested in Dr. Thorne’s vision."
"You’re going to flirt with her."
"Ha! I’m going to dazzle her," he corrects. "I’m going to be the shiny object she can't look away from. I’ll keep her engaged,keep her ego stroked, and keep her away from the executive wing while you work."
"And I am the operational coordinator extraordinaire," Damon says, tapping his laptop. "I’ll be in the SUV running comms and monitoring the digital perimeter. I’ll loop the camera feeds for the hallway so security sees an empty corridor when you go for the office and provide overwatch for all of you."
I study the map a few more times and then give a slow nod. It’s… smooth. It’s not a brute-force attack; it’s a dance. Andre holding the room, Damon holding the mark, Marcus holding the digital door open, and me slipping through the cracks.
"It works," I admit. "It actually works."
