“Give him level-three clearance for the next fifteen minutes.”

The guards nodded, their faces expressionless.

Rowan looked at me for a split second as he turned to follow them.

It was a glance so brief that no one else would have noticed it.

But I saw the subtle shift in his eyelids, a signal we had used years ago.

He was playing her.

Marcus was already inside the system, waiting for Rowan to touch a terminal.

I carefully set my tray down on a nearby linen-covered table.

None of the other catering staff paid any attention to me as I slipped toward the service doors.

The hallway behind the ballroom was narrow, lit by harsh fluorescent bulbs.

The smell of damp concrete and expensive floor wax hung in the air.

I pulled off my white cotton gloves and stuffed them into my apron pocket.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone.

I pressed the speed dial for Marcus.

He answered on the first ring, his voice a low murmur over the static.

“I’m in,” Marcus said.

“Rowan just cleared the first biometric gate.”