Page 2 of The Eagle's Vault

“Welcome to the top.” Jayce offered a hand, pulling me to stand. “I had a nap while I was waiting.”

I took a moment to steady my legs, ignoring her smug smile. “The house in London was easier than this one.”

“The house in London was begging for someone to climb it.”

She was right. Instead of a three-story vertical, the bottom floor of that house had sported multiple turrets, giving me a respite every twelve feet.

From the third-floor roof, we eased down to a second-floor balcony, skirting the sight lines of the cameras dotting the villa. The balcony was a forest unto itself, the scent of flowers and damp soil filling my senses. We pushed through the fragrant chaos, and Jayce popped the lock on the glass doors without a thought.

For all my complaining, it had taken less than fifteen minutes from the ground to the inside, with no one the wiser. Jayce knew how to infiltrate any building, but it usually took more preparation than this one had.

Inside, the library was an aristocrat’s dream: coffered ceiling, massive bookcases, plush chairs begging to be lounged upon. A second-story balcony housed more bookshelves, their tomes silently judging our intrusion.

My parents would have loved it.

The main attraction, though, was a swung-out bookcase, which normally concealed a six-foot-tall safe.

“Hey there, beautiful,” I cooed, running my fingers over her cool metal door. “Sorry I left you hanging, but I had to figure out how they got to you. Jayce insisted on her version of a ‘scenic route.’”

Behind me, Jayce snorted in amusement, rummaging through her bag. The rustling of plastic filled the room. She was hunting for snacks, no doubt.

The safe was no ordinary one. She was built to withstand brute force, power tools, and an explosion. Constructed of steel, she weighed over seven hundred pounds. Bolts ran into the brick frame on five of her sides, so there was no removing her from the wall, unless someone backed a truck into the library or blew up the bottom floor. And the bottom floor? Reinforced with concrete and enough galvanized steel rebars to hold up a ten-story building.

This wasmysafe. Built specially by my hands for Edoardo Caetani, an old friend of my boss. And after spending so much time with him when I designed and installed the safe last year, he was now an old friend of mine, too.

One or more thieves had assaulted her, and I was here to get my lady back into fighting shape.

The thought of someone using a drill to mar this masterpiece made my stomach roil.

I set my pack onto the table near the safe and withdrew a borescope. Inserting it into the hole the thieves had drilled, I was able to inspect the inner workings of my lady through the screen on the end of the scope. The light sparkled off millions of pieces of tempered glass, which the amateurs had shattered with their drill. Once the glass relocker had been triggered, the locking bolts were engaged, and it was anyone’s guess how to access the contents. Anyone other than me. “They did a number on you, didn’t they, baby?”

From my bag, I retrieved my tablet. Its screen came alive, displaying the safe’s intricate blueprints. A surge of warmth rippled through me. The glass relocker, the heat-activated door seal, and the ball-bearing hardplate.

Safe design was a unique science. It wasn’t about keeping things locked away. It was about challenging the intruder. It was a mind game.

But safecrackingwas an art. The feeling of the pins setting, the sound of a click no louder than a hummingbird’s breath, the sensation on my fingers as I rocked a pick inside a lock.

Jayce, her mouth full of what smelled like beef jerky, mumbled, “Anything interesting?”

“Just admiring the view.” I traced a finger over the blueprint and sighed for Jayce’s benefit. I grinned at her, her head shaking in response before she headed for the door.

She tossed me a quick, “I’m gonna find something more filling,” and then she was gone, the library’s double doors closing quietly behind her.

Absorbed in the intricate specifications, time slowed. A small drill hole in just the right spot would allow me to open her up. The repair would be relatively simple, but I could upgrade the security while I had her door open.

Movement at the edge of the room caught my attention. Definitely not Jayce—I wouldn’t have noticed her until she was already next to me.

“No, I’m not done yet.” I looked up with a smirk as Edoardo, the villa’s owner, strolled in.

Edoardo wore his success around his middle. Dressed in a tailored suit which might have fit the last time I saw him over a year ago, he laughed, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes also far deeper than before. “I came to let you know the glass plate arrived.”

“Perfect.” I straightened and gestured to the tablet in front of me. “Want to see her secrets?”

He held up a hand as he crossed the room toward the safe. Despite his polished exterior, the pungent scent of body odor clung to him, as though he’d forgotten to shower after finishing a marathon. “The only secret I need to know is that your design kept them at bay, my friend.”

“No thanks required.” My attention fell back to the blueprints. “She’s a tough one. I made sure of that.”

“Did the rest of the team come with you?”

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