The hallway outside is quiet, the pack center still waking up. If I can just make it back to my room without running into anyone, this whole situation might remain... discreet.

I ease the door closed behind me, taking care not to let the latch click loudly. And then, turning, I come face to face with Rafael standing right behind me.

"Well, well, well," he says, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaning casually against the doorframe of the room next to Keira’s.Of course. That’shisroom."Morning, Romeo. Didn’t expect to see you on this side of the building.”

I fight the urge to groan. Of all the people to run into, it had to be Rafael. He’s never been the type to let anything slide.

“Rafael," I mutter in greeting, trying to push past him.

But he steps in front of me, blocking my way with that smirk still plastered on his face. He’s lucky I like him, or I’d already be picking a fight.

"Walk of shame? Didn’t peg you for the type."

"Raf, not now," I say quietly, hoping he’ll drop it.

But of course, he doesn’t. "You know, the walls here aren’t as thick as you might think," he adds, winking. "A little midnight rendezvous? This isn’t the military anymore, you know, you don’t need to—”

"Rafael,"I warn, my patience wearing thin.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to it. But seriously, Ado, next time, you might want to pick a room farther down the hall. Maybe not your room, though. Doesn’t Maisie stay in the bedroom next to yours? You’d give her a heart attack.”

I sigh, shaking my head, trying to brush off the awkwardness. "I’m serious. Drop it."

"Consider it dropped," Rafael replies. He steps aside, and his smile is genuine. "But hey, just remember—if you need a wingman, I’m always here."

I shoot him a look that saysenoughand continue down the hall, finally making it to my room. The whole encounter leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I know Rafael’s teasing is harmless, but this thing with Keira... it’s not something I want to turn into gossip. I don’t want to put her in that situation. The guys will never hold something like this against me, and they wouldn’t hold it against her, but it would worry her for them to know. She cares deeply about her career.

As I close the door behind me and lean against it, I can’t help but wonder how long we can keep this quiet. Or maybe that was the first and last time. Maybe, I think wishfully, we can act like it didn’t happen.

But I imagine a life spent never experiencing her again—her body, her touch, her lips on mine—and I burn deep in my gut like a starved man. I burn like I’m going to come apart if I have to spend another second away from her. I could run back to her room right now. I won’t, but I could.

I already stink of sweat and sex, and now I’m thinking of her again. Groaning, I shuffle into the bathroom for a cold shower.

***

The meeting room hums with activity as Percy, Rafael, and I gear up.

Evening is already beginning to fall, and the space is dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners. I’m not the anxious type, but on days like this, before important jobs, I have to put in an effort not to read omens into places where there are none. My mind goes into hyperdrive, and I become overly vigilant. I see threats everywhere.

Three times at lunch, I was certain Keira would fall and hurt herself as she bustled around the kitchen across the building, throwing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich together on the countertop. She almost gave me a heart attack.

Rafael adjusts his tie in the mirror propped on the table, smirking at his reflection. He’s dressed in a sharp black suit, looking every bit the wealthy, arrogant auction attendee. Seeing him like this is strange—usually, he’s all jokes, but now there’s a steely focus in his eyes. He’s ready.

Percy stands nearby, methodically checking the hidden compartments in his coat. His usual easygoing demeanor is replaced with a quiet, methodical precision as he pats down the weapons strapped beneath his tailored jacket. He’ll be taking on the role of a server—it’s his favorite type of identity to work under.

The fake ID cards and forged paperwork sit on the table next to him, ready to complete the identities we’ll assume for the night.

I finish tightening my cufflinks, glancing around the room to make sure everything is in order. The black suit I’m wearing feels constricting, but it’s necessary for blending in. It’s all part of the disguise—the clean-cut businessman with more money than morals, here to place bids on whatever twisted items are being auctioned off tonight.

But behind the stoic exterior, my mind keeps wandering back to Keira.

She stands at the head of the room, ready to brief us on the extraction points around Border Ridge, the mountainside mansion where the auction is taking place. She’s all business, her voice clear and steady as she walks us through the plans, hair and makeup flawless under the hard overhead lights. But I can’thelp but notice the tension in her jaw and the way she avoids looking directly at me.

“Extraction points are here, here, and here,” Keira says, tapping the map projected on the wall with a pointer. “Teams will be stationed in vans around the perimeter. We’ll be monitoring your progress through comms, and Byron and Olivia have hacked the internal cameras and audio sensors, so if anything goes wrong, we’ll pull you out.”

Percy nods, absorbing every word. Rafael, too, listens intently, his usual playfulness gone. I grasp hopelessly at my own focus, though I can feel it slipping away the longer I look at her.

Keira swipes something on her phone, and the slide on the projector changes to show photos of the inside of the mega-mansion. “Once you’re inside, remember your cover identities. Blend in. Don’t draw any unnecessary attention. The auction is likely to be heavily guarded, and the attendees are not people you want to cross. If things go south, get out immediately. The extraction teams will be ready, but we can’t afford any mistakes. You already know the faces you’re looking for, but don’t come on too strong.”