We stand there, clinging to each other in silence as precious seconds tick by, lasting for what feels like eternity.

Every muscle in my body is poised, ready to bolt, and my spine aches. I squint into the dark, hoping for a spark of light. “What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know, but I’m positive Harbor and Mike will come through with the signature. He’s an expert forger, and she’s the perfect decoy if they need one,” he says.

“But what if something went wrong? We’d be stranded here.” My head spins.

A light passes through the still space, flooding over the couch and strange sculptures in the great room before traveling into the kitchen. It goes dark. We wait, our breathing heavy. I glance at my watch. Only three minutes have passed since we entered the front door. Not enough time to get caught, yet. The moment the second flash begins its journey, we bolt up the stairs, both fighting for the lead. The fog blasters remain closed.

When we reach the second floor, Garrett catches me around the waist, bringing me to a halt and sending hot shivers coursing through me.

“The shotgun-shell wall,” he whispers in my ear. “Sophia and Ophelia are on this one—retina recognition.”

“Sophia’s an expert makeup artist. She’s got this,” I reply, trying to steady my quaking limbs. “She probably made a fake eye… Wait.” I frantically scan the center anteroom we stand in. “How are we going to see the light?” Hallways and doors lead to bedrooms from all directions, but there are no windows.

Garrett points to the ceiling, and I glimpse stars twinkling through a skylight.

CLICK.

Grabbing me, Garrett throws me to the ground, covering my body with his. My insides leaping, I squeal, certain we’re done for, waiting for the bullets to ravage us. He clamps his hand over my mouth as the walls around us shift, rearranging themselves into a new layout.

“Robotic walls,” I whisper through his glove when they’ve stopped moving. He removes his hand from my mouth. “Now how are we supposed to know which bedroom is the master? The map will have changed.”

“We’ll have to guess.” His breath is hot on my cheek.

We lay there, not moving, every inch of our bodies pressed together. This time I know it’s his heart pulsating against mine. Electricity coursing through me, I long to curl into him.

White light pours through the skylight, spotlighting us before it goes dark. “One,” I whisper, grateful for a new place to channel my energy. “Which room do you think it is?”

“The master used to be down the hall to the right… I’m guessing it doesn’t change? Only the rest of the rooms reconfigure to accommodate guests?”

The light flashes again.

“Two,” I say. “Sounds like a good guess to me.”