She glanced toward the security screens visible in the adjacent room, where red warnings flashed.
“You have no idea what you’re stealing,” Stavros said, his voice full of disgust. “What Strauss created. What Praetorian wants to do with it.”
Another alarm sounded and the automated voice returned: “Warning: Water breach on sublevel four. All personnel evacuate immediately.”
Vivi felt sick. Dom was running out of time. “I don’t want to know. I just want the people I care about to be safe. Please release the lockdown. Please.”
Stavros looked at her for a long, terrible moment. Then he sighed, a sound so human and weary that it seemed out of place coming from him. “I have been waiting—watching—for someone to come for Vault 485. For what’s inside.” He paused. “I should have known it would be you. Or rather, someone using you.”
He moved past her to the security station, where one of his men sat, monitoring screens showing the rising water levels. Stavros leaned down, typed a complex series of commands, then pressed his palm to a scanner.
“Authorized override,” he said clearly. “Release sublevel lockdown, sections B through F. Emergency protocol seven-three-five.”
The computer chimed in acknowledgment. On the screen, a schematic of the sublevel lit up, showing doors unlocking in sequence.
“He has approximately ninety seconds to reach the main service elevator before the water does,” Stavros said, straightening. “I suggest you pray he is as capable as you believe him to be.”
Vivi didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the security monitors, searching for any sign of Dom. The water level indicators kept climbing, now well above the six-foot mark.
“If he makes it,” Stavros continued, watching her carefully, “what then, Ms. Cavalier? You deliver the research to Praetorian. They release your brother. And then?”
She finally looked at him. “We disappear.”
He smiled thinly. “No one disappears from Praetorian. Not with what’s in that vault.”
Before she could ask what he meant, a chime sounded from the elevator. They both turned as the doors slid open to reveal Dom flanked by two guards—soaked, bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but alive. In his arms, he clutched a matte black titanium case with a digital lock.
“Dom,” she breathed, rushing to him.
He staggered out of the elevator, coughing up water. “Viv,” he managed, his voice ragged. “Got it.” He held up the case.
At that instant, she didn’t care bout that fucking case. She shoved it aside and wrapped her arms around him. “Are you okay? Jesus, you’re bleeding.”
“Hit my head when the ceiling came down.” He coughed again, harder this time. “Doesn’t matter. We need to go.”
“No,” Stavros said behind them. “You’re not leaving with that case.”
Dom tensed, his free hand dropping to where Vivi knew he kept a concealed knife. “Yeah, we are.”
“The plan has changed, Mr. Wilde,” Stavros replied. “As I was just explaining to your partner.”
Dom looked at her, a question in his eyes.
“I told him,” she said. “About Sabin. About Praetorian.”
Surprise flashed across Dom’s face before his expression settled into determination. “Then he understands why we’re taking this with us.”
“I understand a great many things, Mr. Wilde.” Stavros gestured to the hallway, and two more security guards appeared silently at the end of the corridor, their hands resting casually on holstered weapons. Not drawn, but a clear message.
Dom’s jaw tightened. He shifted his weight slightly, ready to move if he had to. Vivi knew that look. He was going to do something stupid. She squeezed his arm, a silent warning.
Don’t.
They followed Stavros through the corridor, up a flight of stairs, and into a spacious office with a wall of windows overlooking the cliff and the sea beyond. The room was tastefully appointed in the same understated luxury as the rest of the villa, with antiques that Vivi’s practiced eye pegged as genuine Ming dynasty and Renaissance pieces.
“Sit,” Stavros said, gesturing to a pair of leather chairs facing his desk.
Dom remained standing, the titanium case still clutched in his arms. Water dripped from his clothes onto the expensive rug. “We don’t have time for this.”
