I stood in the darkness of a New Avalon alley, the city’s bright lights throbbing against the brick walls like a heartbeat. The air is thick with the scent of rain and fried electronics, and my pulse matches the distant bass coming from a club. My team is behind me, as quiet as ghosts: Lena, her fingers fidgeting over her tablet like she can’t wait to hack into anything; Marcus, a large man with knuckles roughened from too many brawls; and Evie, her blonde hair hidden under a hat, already smiling confidently like she's in charge. We're about to break into Crane’s dry cleaner’s—a small, unremarkable shop that handles more than just clothes for billionaire Victor Crane. Our goal: his jacket, the key to planting a hidden camera that will get us access to his secure vault. One wrong step, and we’re finished. “Jax, are you sure about this?” Lena’s voice comes through my earpiece, soft and intense, like she's already questioning my plan. Her hazel eyes reflect the neon light, sparkling wit

The New Avalon night thrums with activity, but inside the safehouse, tension hangs thick in the air. Lena's tablet is useless, and Dorian's annoying face is stuck in my mind. I can still taste Lena's kiss; the intense moment on the couch feels like a lingering illness. We don't have time to dwell; we need to obtain a billionaire's handprint, and Crane's gym is the next location. I pace, my boots scraping the worn floorboards, while Lena focuses on her equipment, trying to fix the button camera feed. Her auburn hair is disheveled, and the way she looks at me occasionally tugs at my heart. I want to hold her again, but Dorian's hacking has us on edge, and Marcus's glare from the corner tells me to move or we're in trouble."The feed is down," Lena says, her voice strained. "Dorian is redirecting our signal, but I've found a solution. We can still monitor Crane's actions." Her fingers dance across the keyboard, showing her expertise, and I can't help but smile despite the situation."Nic

The safehouse is a pressure cooker, the air thick with suspicion after Lena’s bombshell about a traitor. My split lip stings, my arm’s still raw from the gym graze, and Lena’s avoiding my eyes, her fingers hammering her tablet like it’s the enemy. Her warning about the hidden message in Sophia’s call logs hangs over us like a guillotine. Evie’s pacing, her red gala dress swapped for jeans, her usual smirk gone. Marcus is cleaning his pistol, his scarred knuckles flexing, his silence louder than any argument. I’m trying to keep us together, but Dorian’s hack and the botched gym job have us rattled. We need to get that button camera off Crane’s coat before he notices it, and tonight’s our shot—a charity auction at the Grand Meridian, where Crane’s flaunting his wealth and his “unbreakable” vault.“Plan’s simple,” I say, my voice steady despite the knot in my gut. “I spill a drink on Crane, swap the button while ‘cleaning’ it. Evie, you’re my eyes in the crowd. Marcus, cover the exits. L

The rain hammered New Avalon's streets, transforming the city into a glistening, brightly lit maze as we huddled in the van. Our hearts still pounded from the warehouse attack. My shoulder stung where a bullet had grazed me, but it was nothing compared to the unease in my stomach. Lena’s discovery—someone had placed a tracker on our gear from the inside—meant the betrayer was among us. Her light brown eyes were fixed on her tablet, searching for the signal, her dark red hair wet and sticking to her face. Evie was in the back, her fair hair a mess, her usual playful smile replaced by a worried frown. Marcus was holding his handgun tightly, his knuckles white, his silence, fueled by his mental trauma, was heavier than ever. I was driving, my mind racing. Dorian’s note, the betrayer, Crane’s vault—it was all closing in, and we were about to enter a dangerous situation: Crane’s skyscraper, the central hub of his seemingly impenetrable vault.“Security map’s ready,” Lena said, her voice st

The fish market stench clings to everything, seeping into the cramped apartment where we’ve holed up after the skyscraper fire. My ribs ache, my arm’s raw from a drone’s laser, and the weight of Dorian’s note—The vault’s not what you think—is a stone in my gut. Lena’s at a rickety table, her tablet casting a blue glow on her auburn hair, her hazel eyes fierce as she decodes the vault’s blueprint we barely escaped with. Marcus is slumped on a sagging couch, his shoulder bandaged, his breathing shallow, the tracker we pulled from his wound a grim reminder of the traitor in our midst. Evie’s leaning against a wall, her blonde hair tangled, her smirk gone, but her blue eyes are too sharp, like she’s hiding something. The air’s thick with distrust, and I’m standing by the window, scanning New Avalon’s docks for any sign of Crane’s goons, my gun heavy in my hand. Lena’s warning about a mole talking to Dorian has us all on edge, and I’m starting to think Evie’s recklessness isn’t just carele