The lock was being turned from the inside.

The camera feed on Priya’s screen showed a sliver of light as the heavy mahogany door swung inward.

A figure emerged in the frame, casting a long shadow across the polished limestone foyer of the penthouse.

It was Bennett.

His coat was collar-up, drenched from the storm, and his hair clung messily to his forehead.

Behind him, Celeste stepped into the light, her high heels clicking sharply on the stone even through the low-quality audio of the feed.

She carried a large, empty designer duffel bag, her eyes darting around the dark foyer.

“They are trying to clear out the safe,” I said, my voice steady.

Julian reached past me and pressed the button for the parking garage elevator.

“The injunction was served to his attorneys three hours ago,” Julian said, his eyes fixed on the metal doors. “He knows he has lost the corporate assets, so he is going for the personal ones.”

“Not if we get there first,” Priya said, her fingers already flying across her tablet to alert the building’s private security desk.