The vehicle hummed beneath them, a low vibration that traveled up through the seats and settled somewhere in the bones. Lucian Varga sat in the passenger position, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm against his thigh. Beside him, Tyla's presence was a warmth that bordered on suffocating, though he would never admit it aloud.
The checkpoint loomed ahead.
Janitor stood at the barrier, his posture shifting from professional detachment to something approaching recognition as the vehicle slowed. His hand went to the radio at his shoulder, then dropped away as Lucian rolled down the window.
"Well, well," Janitor said, his voice carrying that particular blend of authority and curiosity that came with years of standing at gates. "Didn't expect to see you tonight. Different wheels, though. That old heap finally give up the ghost?"
Lucian's smile was thin, practiced. "The other one had... complications. Broke down on the main stretch. Had to have it hauled to a shop downtown."
Janitor's laugh was short, sarcastic. "Sure it did. And I'm the emperor of the Eastern Reaches."
"Believe what you want." Lucian's voice carried no heat. "Just doing some late-night inventory for my uncle. You know how it is."
The flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the vehicle's interior. It caught on Tyla first—the way she sat, legs crossed, one hand resting casually on the door handle. Then it moved to the back, where three figures sat in relative stillness.
"These your new friends?" Janitor asked, the beam lingering.
"My apprentices," Lucian said smoothly. "Helping me out while they're on break from their studies. Family business and all that."
Janitor squinted. "They look a little old to be students."
Lucian didn't answer. Instead, he let a single ring catch the light—a subtle shift of his hand, the metal glinting as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. The ring was aimed low, toward Janitor's belt line, and the gesture was unmistakable even in the dim glow of the checkpoint lamps.
Janitor's throat worked. He swallowed hard, the sound audible even over the vehicle's idle engine. His eyes darted to Tyla, then back to Lucian, then down to that ring again.
Tyla chose that moment to stretch, her movements liquid and deliberate. She ran a finger along the edge of the window frame, her lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile but promised everything nonetheless. Her eyes met Janitor's, held them, and she tilted her head just so—a silent invitation wrapped in the thinnest veneer of innocence.
Janitor's face flushed a deep crimson that was visible even in the dim light. He cleared his throat, coughed, and stepped back from the vehicle.
"Right," he said, his voice slightly higher than before. "Well. You better get on with it then. Your uncle's probably waiting."
He paused, his hand hovering near the barrier release. "Listen—when you're done helping your uncle, or whatever it is you're doing, maybe you and I could... you know. Get to know each other. Properly."
Tyla's smile widened. "Of course," she purred. "I'd like that."
Janitor's face brightened. He reached for the barrier, ready to lift it—
"Hey now!" Lucian's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "What in sweet heaven are you doing? You're supposed to clear the way, not stand there gawking."
Janitor blinked, startled back to reality. "Right. Right. Sorry." He fumbled with the mechanism, finally lifting the barrier with a grunt. "Go on through."
As the vehicle began to roll forward, Tyla leaned out the window just enough to blow a kiss in Janitor's direction. The man's mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no sound came out.
Once they were through, Tyla settled back into her seat with a satisfied hum. "Nothing beats a muscular man," she murmured, "more than his stupidity for thinking with his lower half."
"Hey—" Janitor's voice called out from behind them, but the vehicle was already moving.
Lucian's jaw tightened. He didn't look at her. "Focus."
"I'm always focused, darling. It's everyone else who seems to lose their heads."
---
The entry to the Jerkin base sprawled before them, and even Lucian, who had seen his share of fortified compounds, had to admit it was impressive. Walls rose high, crowned with razor wire that glinted under the security lights. Guard towers punctuated the perimeter at regular intervals, their searchlights sweeping methodical arcs across the grounds.
What struck him, though, was what he didn't see.
"Look at that," Lucian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "For a base this size, you'd think they'd have patrols. Constant sweeps. But there's no one out here."
Tyla followed his gaze. The perimeter was quiet. Still. Almost peaceful.
"Maybe they can't imagine anyone would be foolish enough to trespass," she offered.
"Maybe." Lucian's eyes narrowed. "Or maybe they've grown complacent. Soft. Living behind walls for too long makes people forget that walls can be breached."
The vehicle rolled to a stop near a secondary entrance—a service door that blended seamlessly into the wall's design. To anyone passing by, it would look like nothing more than a maintenance access point. But Lucian knew better. He'd studied the blueprints. Memorized every detail.
And now, standing here in the flesh, he could see the truth of it.
The door opened without resistance.
---
Inside, the corridor stretched long and dimly lit. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting uneven pools of illumination across the concrete floor. The air smelled of disinfectant and metal—that sterile, clinical odor that seemed to permeate every installation.
Lucian moved first, his steps measured and sure. Tyla followed close behind, her heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that seemed almost musical. The three apprentices—Caius, Noelle, and the younger Varga whose name Lucian had already forgotten—trailed in their wake, their eyes wide as they took in their surroundings.
The surveillance room was empty.
Lucian paused at the threshold, his brow furrowing. Screens lined the walls, each one displaying a different sector of the base. Corridors. Storage rooms. The armory. All of them showed the same thing: nothing. No movement. No guards. No signs of life.
"Convenient," Tyla murmured.
"Too convenient," Lucian agreed.
He pulled a device from his pocket—a small, sleek thing that hummed with barely contained energy. The interface glowed to life, displaying a cascade of data that would have been incomprehensible to anyone without the proper training.
But Lucian had the proper training.
He'd spent hours with Elijah, learning the intricacies of the system. The backdoors. The exploits. The ways to slip through digital defenses without leaving a trace.
And now, that knowledge was paying off.
"Elijah's been busy," Lucian said, his voice carrying a note of grudging respect. "He's already mapped the entire network. Keycodes. Patrol routes. The works."
Tyla leaned in, her shoulder brushing against his. "Show-off."
"He's useful. That's what matters."
Lucian's fingers danced across the interface, pulling up the feed from a camera he knew Elijah had planted days ago. The footage was grainy, but clear enough to make out the figure moving through the corridor.
Katerina Sokolova.
She was walking with purpose, her coat billowing behind her. The camera angle was tight—close enough to catch the way her fingers brushed against the wall as she turned a corner. Close enough to see the security panel she approached.
The keypad glowed under her touch. Her fingers moved with practiced ease, entering a sequence of digits that Lucian committed to memory.
The vault door swung open.
Lucian's lips curved into a smile.
"Got you."
---
He turned to the others, his expression shifting from concentration to command. "Follow me. Stay close. Don't touch anything. Don't say anything. Your only job here is to do exactly what you're told, when you're told. Understood?"
The apprentices nodded, their faces pale but determined.
Andreas, however, had other ideas.
She arched an eyebrow, her posture shifting into something that was almost mocking. Her hands went to her hips, and she tilted her head in a perfect imitation of Lucian's own authoritative stance.
"Yes, sir," she said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Whatever you say, sir."
Lucian's eye twitched.
Tyla let out a low laugh, the sound echoing off the corridor walls. "It appears not everyone is a fan of your serious persona, darling."
"Noted," Lucian said, his voice flat. "Now move."
They moved.
The corridor wound deeper into the base, passing through sectors that grew progressively more secure. Card readers. Keypads. Biometric scanners. Each one presented an obstacle that Lucian navigated with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times before.
The truth was, he had. Just not here.
The Halvern Consortium's robotics division had taught him everything he needed to know about security systems. The weaknesses. The workarounds. The ways to make technology bend to his will.
And the device in his pocket—the one he'd acquired from Elijah—made everything else possible.
It was small, almost unremarkable. A piece of tech that could copy a print from almost any surface. Elijah had used it to lift Katerina's print from the coat she'd been wearing—the one she'd draped over a chair in the mess hall.
Lucian had seen the footage. Watched Elijah work his magic.
Now, it was his turn.
---
The vault loomed before them.
It was massive, a steel behemoth that seemed to grow out of the wall itself. A keypad glowed at its center, flanked by a scanner that pulsed with a soft, rhythmic light.
Gold. So much gold.
Lucian could see it through the small viewing window—bars stacked in neat rows, glittering under the vault's internal lights. The sight made his heart beat a little faster.
But he didn't let it show.
He stepped forward, his movements deliberate. The device came out of his pocket, and he pressed the copied print against the scanner. The machine hummed, processing the data.
Lucian held his breath.
Then, with a click, the scanner flashed green.
He turned to the keypad, his fingers hovering over the digits. The code was burned into his memory. Katerina's code. The one he'd watched her enter on that grainy footage.
He pressed the numbers.
1. 7. 4. 3. 6. 2.
The vault door groaned, a deep mechanical sound that seemed to shake the very floor beneath them. Hydraulic pistons hissed as the massive lock disengaged, and slowly, ponderously, the door began to swing open.
Light spilled out, golden and warm.
Lucian stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the brilliance.
The vault was a treasure trove. Coins. Bars. Jewelry. Artifacts from a dozen different eras, all stacked with precision.
But it was the data—the files, the drives, the information that mattered most—that had drawn Lucian here.
And there, waiting in the corner, was the evidence he needed.
---
Andreas's mouth fell open.
"Holy—" she started, then caught herself. "Is this... is this all real?"
"Very real," Lucian said, his voice calm. "And very important."
Tyla moved past him, her fingers trailing over a stack of gold bars. "Darling, you've outdone yourself."
"Don't touch anything," Lucian said, his voice sharp.
Tyla's hand froze, and she shot him a look that was equal parts amusement and irritation. "Fine. But you can't blame a girl for being curious."
He ignored her, his attention fixed on the files.
But behind him, he heard M1's voice, low and conspiratorial, whispering to M2. "It appears my sister is becoming more bewitched by a bastard she barely knows."
M2's response was too quiet for Lucian to catch, but the tone was unmistakable.
Andreas, meanwhile, was still watching him with that infuriating smirk.
"What's the matter, Lucian?" she asked, her voice teasing. "Don't like people seeing how the sausage gets made?"
He turned, his eyes narrowing. "I like people following orders. That's what I like."
Andreas's grin widened. "Sure you do."
Lucian opened his mouth to respond, but Tyla's laughter cut him off.
"Darling, I think you've met your match."
He looked between them—the two women, both smiling, both clearly enjoying themselves—and felt a headache beginning to form behind his eyes.
"Focus," he said, his voice clipped. "We're not done here."
But even as he spoke, he couldn't help the small, grudging smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
They were all fools, every last one of them.
But they were his fools.
And tonight, they were going to accomplish something extraordinary.