I looked up at the mezzanine balcony.

Alexander was there.

He had just come out of the study corridor, his face pale, his eyes searching the room below.

He saw Marcus.

He saw the guard moving toward me.

Alexander’s eyes met mine across the crowded, noisy room.

He knew what was about to happen.

He started toward the stairs, his pace quickening as he pushed past a group of investors.

Marcus began to walk toward me, his leather shoes tapping a steady rhythm on the marble floor.

The distance between us was closing.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my leather shoulder bag.

Inside, the warm metal of the cloned hard drive pressed against my ribs.

The security guard’s boots squeaked on the polished floor as he cut through the path between two ice sculptures.

Marcus did not rush.

He walked with the easy confidence of a man who owned the room, his eyes fixed on my face.

I stepped backward, but my heel struck the heavy brass base of a velvet rope barrier.

There was nowhere to go.