I push the door open and slip inside the dragon’s lair. The office is dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the vineyard. I don't waste time admiring the view as I head straight for the large painting of a vineyard landscape on the far wall. I reach behind the frame and trip the latch to let the painting swing forward smoothly. And there it is. The safe is a sleek, blackmetal square set into the wall. There’s no keypad or dial like a classic safe. Just a scanner for a hand, a lens for an eye, and a microphone for a voice. And, as Damon promised, a small, inconspicuous maintenance panel at the bottom, secured by four Phillips head screws. I reach into my pocket and pull out the small screwdriver I lifted from the supply closet yesterday.
"Okay, boys," I whisper, dropping to my knees. "Let’s see if this key really fits."
"We’re with you, baby," Andre murmurs quietly. "Every step."
I fit the screwdriver into the first screw. It turns and the heist begins.
Chapter 14 – Demi (February 14)
The screws are tiny and stubborn as hell.
"Come on, you little bastard," I mumble, the small screwdriver slipping in my sweaty grip.
I’m on my knees in the dark office, the only light coming from the small LED pen light clenched between my teeth, which I’m praying isn't visible from the hallway. The music from the auction downstairs is a dull, rhythmic thumping in the floorboards, a constant reminder that time is bleeding away.
Finally, the last screw gives. I catch it before it hits the carpet and shove it into my pocket with the others. I pry the maintenance panel off with my fingernails, revealing the guts of the Heart-Box. It looks like the inside of a computer tower with wires, chips, and a single USB-C port labeled DIAGNOSTIC.
"I’m in," I whisper, grabbing the drive from my bra where I tucked it earlier in case security searched the staff. It looks like a standard flash drive, but inside, it’s a weapon. I slot it into place, holding my breath, waiting for the little light on the drive to turnblue, signaling that the script is running, flooding the cache, and forcing the reboot into diagnostic mode.
The light flashes…Red.
Then red again. A fast, angry strobing red that lights up the dark corner like a warning flare. My stomach drops through the floor.
"Damon," I huff, my voice tight. "We have a problem. The light is red."
There’s a beat of silence in my ear. "Red? That's bad. Red means hardware rejection. Describe the sequence."
"It’s a fast strobe. Like a panic alarm."
"Shit," Damon curses, the calm, professional veneer cracking just a little bit. "She must have patched it. It would have worked otherwise, I know it. I'll bet the firmware was updated, it's the only thing that makes sense. It’s checking for a physical key before it accepts the digital input."
"So the script won't work?"
"Not unless you have the physical master key to complete the circuit. Without it, the port is dead. It’s a brick, Demi."
I stare at the flashing red light, the reflection mocking me in the polished chrome of the safe. A brick, right. I lean back on my heels and sigh. All the weeks spent planning this. We built covers, hacked servers, infiltrated a fortress, and I’m kneeling here in a beige wig and orthopedic shoes staring at a metal box that might as well be a fucking paperweight.
"Can you bypass it?" I ask, just to be sure. "Can you brute force the handshake?"
"Definitely not from the van, and not quickly, if at all. Without more information I'd likely trigger a lockdown if I tried. The magnetic bolts will seal, and the silent alarm will scream directly to security."
"Abort," Andre’s voice cuts in, hard and absolute. "Blue, get out of there. Now."
"No." I protest, my hands hovering over the drive. "I’m here. I’m inside. There's another way."
"There isn't," Damon barks. "Pull the drive, Demi. If you leave it in too long, the system will log the intrusion attempt."
"Demi, listen to me," Andre commands. "Something is up."
I swallow the panic, the uncertainty and ask, "What?"
"Graves was looking at his phone and went straight to Thorne," Andre says, the background noise of clinking glasses and chatter filtering through his mic. "They're talking, he's trying to get her away from Marcus. He's showing her something. Fuck, they're moving. I think they are heading for the elevator."
I yank the drive out of the port. The red light dies, plunging the corner back into shadow.
"Get out of there," Andre growls. "Maybe he saw a sensor glitch. Maybe he’s just paranoid but he’s moving fast. You’re out of time. Doors are opening – they’re in the elevator."
I scramble to fit the maintenance panel back into place but I drop the first screw. It falls onto the plush carpet, disappearing into the weave.
