Page 64 of Hero Worship

"Standard blind spot in high-end security," I agreed. "Focus on the obvious entry points, overlook the service routes."

"Which is exactly what at least two other players are planning to exploit." Xavier switched to a different overlay. "KitchenSink's probes focused heavily on these back corridors. But look at the timing of her system access. She's specifically targeting the nine forty-five guard rotation. Meanwhile, I found evidence of someone else mapping the kitchen delivery schedule. They're planning to breach during the staff changeover at ten fifteen."

Xander leaned closer to study the plans, their tactical mind clearly at work. "The real question is which route Roche will use if things go bad. A man like that always has an escape plan."

"Three," Xavier corrected, pulling up another schematic. "Primary exit through the wine cellar. Their vintage collection makes a convenient excuse for a fortified tunnel system. Secondary route via the garage level. He probably has vehicles staged. And based on the building modifications I found permits for..." He highlighted a section of the roof. "Emergency helipad, carefully concealed as 'architectural features' in the renovation plans."

"Those are just the official routes," I pointed out. "Someone like Roche will have others that don't show up on any plans."

"Already thought of that." Xavier's smile was sharp as he switched views again. "I cross-referenced the original building blueprints with current power consumption data. There's a significant draw coming from what's supposedly a sealed section of the old servant's quarters. Betting that's where he keeps his art studio, and his real escape route."

"We need to control those exits," Xander said, their expression focused as they traced potential routes on the display. "Funnel him toward a predictable extraction point."

"That's where this comes in." Xavier pulled up what looked like a maintenance schedule. "The building runs on an automated climate control system, which is probably essential for preserving his collection.”

I grimaced at how casually Xavier referred to the literal bodies Roche was probably sitting on.

He highlighted several points in the basement. "The back-up generators are arranged in sequence. Trip one, and the whole system initiates emergency protocols. Including magnetic locks on specific doors."

"Forcing them to use pre-planned evacuation routes," I said, appreciating the elegance of it. "When did you get access to the building systems?"

"About twenty minutes ago." Xavier grinned up at me. "Amazing what you can do with a security system that was last updated six years ago. But here's the real prize." He pulled up a staff roster. "See these names? Cross-referenced them with recent financial transactions. Three of Roche's key security personnel have received substantial deposits from numbered accounts in the past week."

"Someone's bought their cooperation," Xander said. "Question is, which player are they working for?"

"That's the beautiful part." Xavier highlighted the transaction dates. "Different accounts, different days. I think we're looking at multiple buyers. Which means when everything goes sideways..."

"The security team fractures," I finished. "Some backing Roche, some working for our mysterious friends, maybe even a few loyal to Viktor. Perfect chaos."

The Paris afternoon slanted golden through our windows as we prepared for whatever the evening held. Three hunters preparing for the night ahead: Xavier with his digital expertise, me with my tactical experience, and Xander with their masterful understanding of how to turn appearance into advantage. Each dangerous in our own way, united by a single purpose.

Keep everyone alive. Get Misha out. Deal with Roche.

Everything else was just details.

The September night wrappedaround us like silk as we approached Roche's mansion, late summer heat lingering in the air, thick with jasmine from the manicured gardens. My heart thundered with familiar pre-mission energy, making everything sharper, brighter, more real. The ceramic blade concealed in my hairpin pressed against my scalp like a lover's touch, while the garrote wire disguised as a delicate chain around my throat felt more like a collar. Ash's marks still throbbed beneath my designer silk, each bruise a reminder of who I really belonged to.

The mansion itself was pure Belle époque excess, all ornate stonework and gilded fixtures caught in the glow of strategiclighting. Tall windows glowed amber against the darkening sky, while perfectly pruned topiaries cast shadows like silent sentinels across the gravel drive. A stream of luxury cars purred at idle near the entrance, their drivers maintaining careful discretion as masked figures in couture emerged.

"Ready?" Ash murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on my lower back. The Tom Ford tuxedo he wore made him look exactly like the wealthy crime novelist he pretended to be, while making even Xavier's most thorough pat-down this morning show nothing suspicious.

"Born ready. Just remember your lines, darling."

His answering laugh held genuine warmth, the kind of intimate sound that sold our cover perfectly. "As if I could forget with you looking like that."

The first checkpoint loomed ahead, staffed by men whose military bearing showed clearly despite their designer suits. I let my hips sway as we approached, noting how their eyes tracked my movement. The more they focused on the obvious distractions, the less they noticed what really mattered.

"Invitation?" The head guard's voice was pure special forces beneath his practiced courtesy.

Ash produced the black card with elegant precision. "Mr. and Mx. Verity," he said smoothly, his accent perfect as he continued the conversation in French. I had no idea what he was saying, but every time Ash spoke French, I wanted to drag him to the nearest bed and suck his brains out through his dick.

The guard's smile never reached his eyes as he examined our invitation before handing it back and saying something in French to Ash.

“Ah, my spouse’s French is not so good,” Ash said. “English, s'il vous plaît?”

His gaze lingered on where Ash's hand branded my hip. "But of course. All electronic devices must be surrendered. Phones, watches, anything capable of recording."

We handed over our phones without protest, watching them disappear into numbered lockboxes. The metal detector's arch hummed with quiet menace, but Xavier's modifications to my outfit worked perfectly. Each ceramic blade read as normal structural elements, every weapon disguised as fashion.

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