Ruby's fingers stop on her tablet. She turns to Nash. "You ready?"
Nash is braced against the wall beside her, arms folded. "A few early buyers are inside. The kind who think arriving first gets them favored."
"Arriving first gets them recorded," Arden says, stepping up behind Frankie.
McKenzie pulls her hair over one shoulder and straightens her neckline. "We don't need every angle covered. We need every angle documented."
Phoenix checks his watch. "Walk time."
McKenzie opens a case on the table. Earpieces, slim and flesh-toned. She passes them out. Floor team, corridor team, everyone. I fit mine behind my ear. Knox fits his without looking, the way he does everything tactical. Muscle memory.
The floor team goes first. Victor offers Olivia his arm at the service corridor threshold. She takes it, her posture loosening, shoulders softening, chin lifting. Her attention moves once, exits, angles, faces, and she smiles. They step through the doorinto the warm light of the ballroom. A couple arriving late to a party they've attended a hundred times.
Ten minutes later, Malachi and Candace follow through the east donor entrance. Candace's hand rests on Malachi's forearm. His stride shortens to match hers. They look as though they are money. Old, dangerous money.
East goes last, through the service corridor, looping around to the back of the ballroom. He tugs his collar one more time before he disappears through the door.
The observation corridor runs parallel to the ballroom along the second floor. Narrow, carpeted, lit by recessed overheads that cast the space in amber. The wall facing the ballroom is mirrored glass. Reflective from the ballroom side, transparent from ours. The room below stretches out beneath us. A stage, which is exactly what it is.
Knox guides me in with his hand at my waist. I take a position near the center of the glass. He stands behind me, chest to my shoulder blades, arms at his sides but close enough that I feel him breathe.
Nash and Ruby set up at the far end. Nash drags a chair to the glass and sits, posture deceptively relaxed, locked on the floor below. Ruby takes a second chair beside him, tablet propped on her knees, recorder on, fingers moving. Her knee rests against his. Both stay where they are.
Anna and Tobias take a spot closer to us. Anna's focus locks on the ballroom through the glass, hard and bright. Tobias stands behind her, one hand hovering near her elbow. It doesn't land until she leans back into him.
Arden settles into the corner nearest the door, device in hand, lids half-closed. He's listening to something the rest of us can't hear. Camera feeds. Signal sweeps. The building's electrical pulse.
"Cameras are on a staggered loop," he says, voice low. "Security won't notice for hours. The kind of lag they'll blame on the building."
Through the glass, the ballroom could be a painting. Gold trim, crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes the color of old wine. Round tables dressed in white linen. Candles throwing warm light across every surface.
Buyers drift in. Men in charcoal suits with watches that cost more than houses. Women in silk with sharp smiles and sharper eyes. They greet each other with double kisses and firm handshakes. Order champagne. They laugh.
My stomach turns.
Knox's mouth finds my ear. "Eyes on me."
I keep my focus on the floor. "I'm watching."
"Sloane."
I turn. His face is inches from mine. "I'm here," I say.
"Good." His thumb traces a circle on my hip. "Stay with me."
Through the glass, I spot Victor and Olivia at a table near the front. Victor's posture is relaxed, one arm draped across the back of Olivia's chair, the other holding a glass of amber. Olivia sweeps the floor in short, precise arcs. Faces, exits, the positions of every server and security guard. She turns toward the mirrored wall and lifts two fingers from her lap. She can't see us. But the gesture is aimed right at the glass. Small. Subtle.
Malachi and Candace are three tables back, angled toward the stage. Candace sips water. Malachi's palm rests on the table, perfectly still. His eyes do all the moving.
East is propped against the far wall of the ballroom, phone in hand, looking bored.
Frankie passes through the corridor behind us, silent, heading for the stairwell. Arden tracks her without turning his head. She disappears down the service stairs.
The music fades. A voice fills the ballroom. Smooth, warm, rehearsed. Welcoming everyone, thanking them for their generosity, their support, their commitment to empowerment.
My mouth goes dry.
Knox's grip tenses on my waist. "Breathe with me." I inhale. His chest expands against my back at the same pace. "Again."
