192A man barked orders from the catwalk above, his voice crackling through a cheap loudspeaker.“Give it up, Dylan!” the voice jeered. “You’re too late! You’ll never find her!”Dylan stiffened, muscles tensing. He knew that voice—Roth. One of Dragonia’s former enforcers. Brutal, loyal to the highest bidder. It figured he would be working for whoever had taken Molly.He swept his eyes over the warehouse—metal crates, old machinery, dark pools of oil soaking the concrete. It was too open. Too exposed.“Figures it’d be Roth,” Lilith muttered from her cover behind a stack of barrels, exchanging fire with a guard perched behind a forklift. She caught Dylan’s eye and gave a grim nod. “You got a plan?”“Yeah.” Dylan ducked as a bullet whined past. “Smoke.”Lilith didn’t hesitate. She ripped a small canister from inside her jacket, yanked the pin with her teeth, and lobbed it toward the center of the warehouse.The canister exploded with a loud pop, flooding the air with a choking cloud of w

194Dylan stumbled beside her, bloody lip and all. “You good?” he gasped out.“I’m great,” Lilith panted, eyes flashing with adrenaline. “Just peachy. Where’s our damn exit?!”He pointed down the half-collapsed hallway—but then they both saw her.A tall woman in a sleek black combat suit, twin knives gleaming wickedly in her hands, stepping silently into their path like a shadow peeled off the wall.Lilith’s boots skidded on the wet concrete. “Oh, fantastic,” she groaned. “Who’s this reject from a Marvel audition?”The woman’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. She tilted her head slightly, her knives catching the dim light. “Call me Vesper,” she said coolly.Lilith squinted. “Vesper? What, like the martini? Are we supposed to be impressed or tipsy?”Vesper’s smirk widened. She didn’t answer—instead, she lunged.Blades flashed.Lilith barely swung up her pistol to block the first vicious slash, the impact rattling her bones. She staggered back a step, hissing under her breath.

196“How soon do they want to move?” Helen asked, swirling the spoon idly around her coffee.“Fast,” Bobby said, leaning forward, lowering his voice like it was some great secret. “Two weeks, tops. They want to announce before the next fiscal quarter.”Helen tapped her manicured nails against the mug, deep in thought, her sunglasses slipping slightly down her nose. She pushed them back up with one finger. Her mind was already working angles, risks, escape routes.“And what’s your cut in all this?” she asked, her tone sharp, suspicious.Bobby chuckled, an easy, practiced sound. “Straight to business. I like that about you.”Helen didn’t crack a smile. “Answer the question.”He took a slow sip of his coffee, deliberately dragging out the moment. Helen’s foot started tapping under the table, a tell she couldn’t help.Finally, he said, “Finder’s fee. Minor stake. I’ll be consulting behind the scenes. You’ll be the face.”Helen narrowed her eyes. “Consulting,” she repeated. “Meaning you ge

198The Next Morning,Helen stood in front of the mirror in her luxury apartment, smoothing the front of her navy sheath dress for the fifth time. Her heels clicked restlessly against the marble floor as she checked her appearance from every angle.She looked perfect. Sharp. Professional. Unstoppable.Today was the day.She had barely slept, tossing and turning with excitement, replaying Bobby’s words over and over in her head:“Big money, Helen. Billions.”“You’re going to crush them all.”Lisa had practically screamed when Helen called her after midnight.“You’re going to OWN this city!” Lisa had cried. “They won’t even know what hit them!”Helen had laughed, giddy and breathless.Finally.Finally she would be more than the woman they whispered about behind champagne glasses. She would be a force.She stared at her reflection, brushing an imaginary speck off her dress.“No mistakes,” she whispered to herself. “You’re ready.”Her phone buzzed. A text from Bobby:Car’s waiting downsta

200Helen tried to return the smile, but it came out more strained than she intended. Her stomach churned, and her skin prickled with an ominous sense of foreboding that she couldn’t shake.Something was wrong. Her instincts, always so sharp when it came to business, were screaming at her. This wasn’t right.She glanced at the man who had spoken, trying to find some sign of warmth or sincerity. But there was none. Just cold professionalism. He didn’t seem to care that she’d just signed away a chunk of her life.The words echoed in her mind: “It’s a done deal. Congratulations.”Her hand trembled as she reached for the pen, signing the contract without hesitation. Was it a mistake? She couldn’t tell. She’d been briefed, she’d weighed the pros and cons, but now that it was done—now that the deal was final—she wasn’t sure she could even trust her own judgment anymore.“Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out softer than she had intended. Her eyes were on the paper in front of her, but