"Left pocket."
Adrian's voice was barely a whisper, but Amara froze mid-step, eyes flicking to the guard at the checkpoint. The man's hand lingered too long on his radio. Left pocket was code for weapon.
She didn't flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, smiled at the guard the way only she could, a slow curve of lips that said you already trust me, you just don't know it yet.
The guard blinked, distracted for half a second. That was all Adrian needed. He walked past like he belonged, shoulders loose, suit jacket pressed just enough to sell the lie. The Rebellion wasn't kicking down doors tonight. They were ghosts dressed in silk and pressed collars.
"Your timing sucks," Amara murmured once they cleared the gate, her laugh a little too loud, disguising the tension.
"You're welcome," Adrian muttered, eyes scanning every reflection in the mirrored glass of the lobby. He hated how easily it came back to him i.e the ability to slip into a role, to bend a stranger's focus with the tilt of his voice. Fallon had taught him that once, and even here, in the belly of her rebuilt empire, her fingerprints were on him.
Toni moved last, quiet as shadow. She'd chosen the plain black dress, no glitter, no distraction. A server brushed past her with a tray of champagne; she slid a glass off without breaking stride. To anyone watching, she was background. To the team, she was the anchor holding every moving piece together.
Inside, the headquarters was dazzling. A foreign city's skyline bled through the giant windows, and the air smelled like sterilized money, glass, steel, and too much perfume. Providence 2.0 didn't look like a cult reborn; it looked like a venture-capital dream. Banners read GLOBAL INNOVATION SUMMIT, but they all knew the truth. Fallon had rebranded control into progress, dictatorship into investment.
"Two minutes until the keynote," Toni murmured, her eyes tracking the digital clock above the stage. "We stay split until the third applause. Adrian, east wing. Amara, west. I'll stay here and intercept."
"Intercept who?" Amara asked, voice too sharp for someone adjusting her earrings.
"Whoever notices us first," Toni said, and the chill in her tone made it clear: there would be someone.
---
The plan was simple in theory: slip into Fallon's flagship conference disguised as delegates, download the files from the secure mainframe hidden behind the exhibition floor, and walk out before anyone realized Providence's future had been cracked open. Simple. But simple plans never survive contact with paranoia.
Adrian peeled off toward the east wing, weaving between suits and badges, smiling when necessary, scowling when appropriate. He'd studied every blueprint Toni dug up, but in practice, hallways curved like traps. Cameras blinked overhead, and every reflection reminded him of cages.
His hand twitched against his thigh. The phantom feel of Fallon's drone cuffs still haunted him, even free. Not now, he told himself. Not when every step carried Amara and Toni's lives on his shoulders.
West wing: Amara leaned against a glass railing, phone pressed to her ear though it wasn't connected. A prop. Her eyes were locked on the mezzanine above, where a group of executives huddled too tightly around a woman with a sharp bob and sharper eyes. Investors, but not normal ones. Fallon's lieutenants. Amara catalogued their faces, lips pursed.
"This is bigger than subsidiaries," she muttered under her breath. "This is government."
She snapped a photo with a quick, practiced tilt of her phone and slipped it into her clutch. Her heart pounded, but her smile stayed easy, bored, perfectly Amara. If they looked down, all they'd see was another heiress pretending not to care.
---
The applause hit. Three bursts, crisp and controlled. Toni's signal.
Adrian adjusted his cufflink and moved. The server door unlocked with a borrowed keycard, and he slipped inside. Gone was the polished conference; the back rooms hummed with machines, screens flickering with coded maps. Providence blueprints.
He slid into a chair, plugging in the drive Toni had burned for him. His reflection in the screen glared back haunted, older than twenty.
"Download initiated," the system chirped in a clipped accent.
Adrian's pulse kicked. Too loud. Too exposed. He hunched closer.
---
Out front, Toni watched the keynote unfold. A speaker in a silver-gray suit took the stage, voice dripping with promise: "Providence Global Solutions is not just a company. It is a vision. One world, one network, one future."
The audience clapped on cue, but Toni's stomach knotted. One world, one network. Fallon's fingerprints again. The words were softer than dictatorship, dressed in corporate language, but the skeleton was the same.
She sipped her champagne, scanning the crowd. A woman near the aisle was watching too intently, fingers brushing her earpiece. Security. Toni shifted, blocking her line of sight just as Adrian's silhouette moved faintly behind the frosted glass doors.
"Not today," Toni whispered.
---
Adrian's drive hit 67%. Sweat slid down his spine. Footsteps clicked closer.
He swallowed, head ducking as two guards passed by, speaking in rapid fire. Not English. Not friendly.
Play it cool.
He pulled out his phone, angling it toward the screen like he was double-checking logistics. It wasn't enough. The guard stopped.
"You," the man barked.
Adrian looked up, slow, calm. His heart felt like gunfire in his chest.
"Problem?" he asked, voice smooth. Not scared. Never scared.
The guard's eyes narrowed, but before he could press, a loud laugh cracked from the corridor. It was Amara. She leaned in the doorway, glass of wine in hand, tossing her curls back like she owned the room.
"There you are," she said, eyes sliding to Adrian with a knowing smirk. "You disappear at every party. Honestly, if you hate networking, just say so."
The guards hesitated. Adrian forced a sigh, rolled his eyes, played along.
"Sorry. Got cornered. Business, you know."
Her gaze darted to the screen for a microsecond enough to tell him she knew. Enough to buy him time.
The guards grunted and moved on.
Amara's smile faded the second they were gone. "You owe me."
"Put it on my tab," Adrian muttered, watching the download tick to 92%.
---
On the floor, Toni's earpiece crackled. Kiru's voice hissed: "Signal's spiking. Fallon's system is detecting the breach. You've got thirty seconds before every guard in this building has your faces."
Toni's throat tightened. She lifted her glass again, voice steady as if she were ordering another drink: "Adrian. Pull now."
"Not done," Adrian's whisper bit back.
"Now," Toni repeated, sharp enough to cut through his pride.
But Adrian's eyes locked on the progress bar....97%, 98%, 99%. He waited. The ding came, sweet as victory: Download complete.
He yanked the drive free just as alarms blared. Red light splashed across the corridor.
Amara swore under her breath. "You suicidal bastard."
"Worth it," Adrian said, already moving.
---
The three of them converged in the service hall, footsteps pounding against the metal floor. The conference erupted behind them were screams, orders, the heavy slam of boots.
"This way," Toni snapped, leading them through a maintenance hatch she'd memorized from blueprints. Her heart thundered, but her voice never wavered.
They spilled into the night air, city lights blazing like fire across the river. Sirens wailed somewhere behind.
For a moment, just a moment, the three of them stopped breathless, alive, the drive clutched in Adrian's palm like the beating heart of the enemy.
Then Toni's voice cut through, steady and cold: "We've got the files. But Fallon knows we're here."
Adrian met her gaze. No jokes now, no masks. Just truth. "Then she knows we're coming."