Because Eve had forgotten one thing. Agatha Vega didn't do hope. She did leverage. And before she’d even entered this building, she’d planted a tracker on Eve’s zip-line rig.

Eve stood, smoothing down her cream-colored blouse. A single smudge of soot marked her collar. "I elevated you. Now move. The east stairwell is clear. We go up, take the prize, and we're ghosts in three minutes."

As she downloaded the files, Agatha kept watch. The city glittered below, oblivious to the heist unfolding in the clouds. In her earpiece, she heard the distant chatter of security finally figuring out the diversion was a fake. They had ninety seconds.

Agatha raised her gun. "I'll shoot you."

For a single, stretched second, Agatha saw the truth. This wasn't improvisation. This had been Eve’s plan from the start. While Agatha was playing the loyal lieutenant to Viktor, Eve had been playing her.