Page 87 of Wings
The second prospect laughed again, ugly sound in the echoing space. "Boss, want us to just toss her out? This is fucking pathetic."
I watched Alex's pride war with his paranoia. Kiara had called it perfectly—he couldn't show weakness in front of hismen, couldn't let them handle his business. His authority, already shaky from skimming, wouldn't survive letting prospects manage his ex.
"I'll deal with it," he said finally, stalking toward her. "Just watch the fucking doors."
The phone bounced on his hip with each step, that chain catching light like a beacon. I breathed steady, hands relaxed, ready to move the second opportunity presented itself. Through the earpiece, Thor's voice rumbled updates I barely processed. All my focus narrowed to the two people in the center of the bay.
Alex reached for Kiara, and she swayed backward just enough to make him pursue. Leading him like a dancer, positioning him exactly where I needed him. Her eyes flicked past his shoulder for a split second, finding me in the shadows. Just a flash, so quick anyone else would have missed it, but I saw the message there: ready when you are.
My brave, brilliant girl.
"You stupid bitch," Alex spat, closing the distance between them. "You can't be here!"
Alex's hands closed on Kiara's shoulders with enough force to bruise, shaking her hard enough to make her hair whip across her face. "You ruined my life!" The words tore from her throat, raw and real despite being scripted. She shoved at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him but enough to make his grip tighten, his focus narrow to just controlling her.
Perfect.
I moved like water finding its level, three silent steps across oil-stained concrete. My hand found the phone's clip with the muscle memory of a thousand practice runs in Duke's office, thumb and forefinger working in concert. The real phone lifted away smooth as silk while my other hand was already positioning the clone.
The weight difference sang through my fingers—2.3 ounces that felt like pounds in that stretched second. But the clip accepted the replacement with a soft click that Alex's raised voice covered completely.
"You stupid bitch, you can't be here! You're not meant to be here, this isn't part of the plan." His words barely registered past the mission focus, but some part of me filed away that odd phrasing. What plan?
I was already melting back into shadows when Kiara's eyes flicked over Alex's shoulder again. Just for a microsecond, her gaze touching mine with surgical precision before returning to Alex's face. Message received—she'd seen me clear, knew the primary objective was complete.
"You ruined my life!" she repeated, shoving harder this time. The passion in it wasn't entirely fake. Three years of abuse, of fear, of watching him spiral into someone she didn't recognize—all of it channeled into this moment.
The real phone sat heavy in my jacket pocket as I found new cover behind a tool cart twenty feet from my original position. Always shift after contact, never be where they expect if things go loud. Through the earpiece, Dex's breathing quickened with anticipation.
"Thirty seconds," I whispered into the mic, already plotting my exit route. Back door, into the alley, gone before anyone knew I'd been there.
But the universe had other plans.
"Hey, boss." One of the prospects straightened from his position by the bay door, squinting into the parking lot. "Is there someone else out there? Thought I saw someone out front."
Every muscle in my body locked down. Through years of training, I kept my breathing steady, silent, even as I watched Alex's entire demeanor shift. The paranoia that lived in hisbones, fed by stimulants and guilty conscience, flared to life like gasoline meeting flame.
His head snapped up, the motion sharp enough to make Kiara stumble. His hand went to his belt, fingers finding the phone still there, but his eyes swept the shop with new intensity. Looking for shadows that didn't belong, for threats in familiar spaces.
"Check the perimeter," he ordered, shoving Kiara away hard enough that she had to catch herself on a workbench. "Now!"
The prospects moved with the reluctant speed of men who'd rather watch drama than work. One headed for the front, the other starting a lazy circuit of the bay. Neither focused, neither expecting actual trouble, but movement meant eyes in places they hadn't been before.
"Alex, wait—" Real fear crept into Kiara's voice now. Not for herself, I realized, but for the plan. For me.
"Shut up." His hand found his gun, not drawing but resting on the grip. "Something's off. Something's—"
"Data transfer initiated," Dex's voice cut through the earpiece, calm as a morgue. "Clock's ticking."
Twenty-eight seconds until we had everything. Twenty-eight seconds I needed to stay hidden while two prospects swept the building and Alex's paranoia cranked higher with each heartbeat.
The prospect checking the bay moved closer to my position, flashlight beam playing across tool benches and equipment. I shifted minutely, keeping the tool cart between us, calculating angles and distances. If he came around the left side, I'd have to move. Right side, I could stay hidden.
Fifty-fifty odds.
"I don't see anybody," the front prospect called back. "Just her car parked crooked as fuck out there."
"Keep looking," Alex snapped. His hand hadn't left his gun. "And you—" He spun back to Kiara. "Who brought you here?"
