Chapter 6 · Dance Floor Lies

Mara's file said she'd been dead for ten years.

She was walking past security anyway, Kade's hand at the small of her back, her smile locked in place like she'd been born wearing it. The guard who'd scanned their IDs was still staring at his screen. His partner waved them through.

Kade leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "We should leave."

"We just got here."

"Your file—"

"Is wrong." She kept her voice light, turned her head so her lips almost brushed his jaw. To anyone watching, it looked like flirting. "They'll kick it up the chain. We've got maybe twenty minutes before someone actually reads it."

"That's not enough time."

"Then we work fast."

The gala hall opened up in front of them, all white marble and floating light panels that shifted from gold to pale blue. The crowd moved like a single organism, smooth and expensive. Mara had seen plenty of rich people in her clinic, usually bleeding. This was different. Here they didn't bleed. They smiled and held champagne flutes and pretended the lower city didn't exist.

She hated it already.

Kade's hand was still on her back. His fingers were tense.