The screen of his phone lit up with a rapid series of text messages.

Julian stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the glass.

“What is this?” he muttered.

He looked up at me, his eyes narrowing to thin, dark slits.

I did not answer him.

I took a step back toward the heavy mahogany door, my hand gripping the strap of my evening bag.

Inside the bag, my phone was still running the wireless override script that Marcus had coded for me.

“Julian,” a voice called from the doorway of the study.

It was Senator Sterling.

His face was pale under the dim hallway lights, and his hand was trembling as he held his phone.

“You need to see this,” the Senator said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Now.”

Julian shoved his phone into his pocket and brushed past me without another word.

I followed them out of the study and back down the quiet corridor.

The distant chatter of the ballroom had suddenly turned into a low, confused murmur.

As we reached the double doors of the grand ballroom, the light from the interior hit us.