Chapter 11 · Rich Enough to Lie

Mara's hand was cold in his. Kade felt it through the thin silk of her glove—actual silk, the kind that cost more than her clinic pulled in a month. The fabric whispered against his palm every time she shifted her grip.

They were twenty steps from the gala checkpoint. Chrome and glass rose up three stories overhead, and every surface threw back their reflection. Her in midnight blue. Him in a charcoal suit that didn't fit quite right across the shoulders.

"Smile," she said. Didn't look at him. "Rich people smile."

He did. Felt his face pull into something that might pass. The bullet graze under his jacket was still leaking, slow and warm down his ribs. He'd stuffed gauze under the shirt and told her it was fine. It wasn't fine. But they were out of time.

Her brother's message had come in four hours ago. Oryx moves me at dawn. That was it. No location, no route. Just dawn.

So here they were. Upper city. Oryx Dominion's annual donor gala. The one place Silas Grave would be, and the one place Mara's fake ID might get them access to the guest manifest. Find out which facility. Which convoy.