“Yep.” Nik’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he was wearing that long, black leather jacket that I remembered so well from the ill-fated weeks we spent hunting rogue Nejerets together—or attempting to hunt them—a couple decades ago. He was completely unarmed, mostly because with magic like his, he was the weapon.

Like him, I wore a black leather coat, but unlike him, I was armed with more than just my wits and the innate magic afforded me by my sheut. Mercy was strapped to my back, returned to her full, visible glory. Needle daggers were tucked into the sheaths sewn into the interior of my sleeves, the corded leather bracelet on my left wrist doubled as a garrote, and a two-inch push knife was hidden in my belt buckle. I also had two not-so-hidden combat knives on the outsides of my ankles in boot sheaths and a fragile-looking At vial holding a couple tablespoons of infected blood hanging from a chain around my neck—our secret weapon—and my left coat pocket was stuffed full of black Sharpies, our backup exit strategy. Nik carried plan A, rolled up and stuffed into his back pocket.

I glanced at Nik sidelong. His dark brown hair was slicked back, the sides freshly buzzed, and his pale stare was locked on the gateway, cold and focused.

“We’ve only got one shot at this,” I told him.

“Yep,” he said, not looking at me. He was in the zone.

I rolled my head from one shoulder to the other, cracking my neck and psyching myself up. My whole body vibrated under the force of the adrenaline coursing through my veins. We could do this. I cracked my knuckles. We could do this.

Licking my lips, I watched Janelle stand and walk to the edge of the curved reception desk to chat with a young businessman. From the looks of their body language, a whole lot of flirting was going on. For the moment, the two appeared to be the only people in the lobby. Janelle was distracted, some distance between her and the insta-security button. We wouldn’t get a better chance than this.

“On the count of three,” I said.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Nik nod.

“One . . . two . . .” We exchanged a glance. “Three.”

Nik and I stepped through the gateway. Janelle and her amorous colleague didn’t notice us until we were practically on top of them. We had them both tied up and gagged with At restraints and stowed under the reception desk—out of sight and mind—in less than thirty seconds.

“This way,” Nik said, jogging toward the hallway shooting off from the right side of the lobby. We’d studied the building plans that morning, before I’d started drawing the gateway, and we had a pretty good idea of the layout of the entire floor. Our diligence paid off; we rushed past several offices and were closing in on the nearest of the two doors to the boardroom before any of the occupants of the offices could even get their doors open.