Page 114 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
I inch toward the door, heart pounding. Only an idiot would follow directly. There has to be another way. Scanning the corridor, I spot salvation. A maintenance closet is adjacent to the meeting room.
Perfect.
Silent steps carry me inside. The service panel gives up its secrets easily under my multi-tool. Screws fall into my palm, and within seconds, I've exposed the building's nervous system.
"Sorry, not sorry," I whisper, connecting my phone to bypass surveillance. Three taps create a ten-second loop of empty hallway.
Basic stuff. Whoever designed this system wasn't expecting someone like me.
Through a narrow ventilation grate, the meeting room spreads out below; dark wood paneling, plush chairs, massive desk. Old money aesthetic screaming discretion and power.
Tatiana stands by the desk, ice-blue eyes reflecting the recessed lighting. The masked man takes position by the door, silent sentinel.
The door opens again.
My heart stops.
Slate walks in.
No. No, no, no. This can't be right.
My mentor. My friend. The guy who taught me half of what I know about breaking systems. But he's wearing a tailored tuxedo rather than his usual hoodie-and-jeans uniform. Hair styled back instead of wild. Moving with confidence I've never seen.
This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong.
Tatiana's face lights up like he's sunshine incarnate.
"Your security adjustments are performing perfectly, darling." She strokes his arm, red nails trailing along the expensive fabric.
Slate grins with pride. "I told you my encryption protocols were unbeatable."
The world tilts sideways. Those code patterns I found... the familiar authentication style... now Slate standing here with her like they're...
Oh god. How long has this been going on? How much did I miss?
Fingernails dig crescents into my palms. The betrayal hits like a physical blow, crushing the air from my lungs. But underneath the shock, my brain keeps working, keeps analyzing.
Wait. Does he even know what these systems are really for? The way he's talking... it sounds like he thinks this is legitimate work.
The masked man shifts, gaze methodically scanning the room. Professional paranoia.
I fumble for my comm with trembling fingers. "Slate's here. With Tatiana. He designed their security systems."
Remy's voice comes back tight with concern. "Pull back. Now. Rendezvous point three."
Yeah, walking away sounds really good right about now.
I replace the panel carefully, and back toward the corridor, mind still reeling. But as I turn the corner, I collide with a broad chest in a security uniform.
The guard's eyes widen, then narrow. "You're not supposed to be here."
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
"Looking for the restroom," I stammer, forcing confusion into my smile. "The gala was so crowded and—"
"ID. Now." He reaches for my arm.
I slip sideways, creating distance. "Compromised. East corridor," I whisper into my comm.
