The gold-leafed elevator doors slid shut with a whisper, sealing out the muffled roar of the party below. For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of the lift and the frantic, synchronized thud of two hearts. Julian didn't move. He stood with his back to the mirrored wall, his eyes fixed on the floor indicator as it climbed toward the 42nd floor."You're shaking," he said. It wasn't a criticism; it was an observation, delivered with the same clinical tone he'd used during the Monday Morning Meltdown."Adrenaline," Maya replied, her fingers still curled around the decorative hairpin she'd used to clone the security frequency. "It's different when you're the one breaking in. Usually, I'm the one designing the locks, not picking them."Julian stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. The tuxedo made him look like a gentleman, but the way he moved—balanced, ready to strike—reminded her that he was anything but. "In my world, the lock is just a suggestion. The real problem is what's waiting on the other side."The elevator chimed, a soft, melodic tone that felt dangerously loud in the empty corridor. The doors opened to a hallway of dark mahogany and floor-to-ceiling glass. This was Vane's inner sanctum. There were no waiters here, no champagne, only the cold, blue glow of security sensors.Maya led the way, her silk dress rustling against the carpet. She stopped in front of a heavy set of double doors. "The biometric scanner is tied to Vane's pulse. We can't hack it from the outside.""Then we don't hack it," Julian said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, translucent patch—a synthetic skin graft he'd lifted from Vane's discarded scotch glass in the kitchen. "The 'Professional' always carries a spare set of prints."He pressed the patch to the scanner. A beat of silence passed, then the heavy click of a deadbolt echoed through the hall. The doors swung open to reveal a room that felt more like a command center than an office."We have five minutes before the system realizes the pulse signature doesn't match," Maya whispered, rushing toward the massive oak desk. She didn't look at the art or the view; she went straight for the hidden terminal beneath the desk's surface.Julian didn't join her. Instead, he turned back to the door, his hand disappearing into the small of his back where his weapon was hidden. The "Plus One" role was over. He was back in the shadows, guarding the entrance while Maya began to pull the thread that would unravel everything."Julian," Maya called out, her voice trembling as the first files flickered onto the screen. "It wasn't just a mission. Monday morning wasn't about a hit."He turned, his eyes narrowing. "Then what was it?""It was a test," she said, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "And we were the subjects."
