"No, you won't," Eve said, and for the first time, her sea-glass eyes looked genuinely sad. "Because you still want to believe I'll show up at that villa. And that's the cruelest con of all—making someone hope."

They moved. Two shadows flowing through the smoke-choked service corridors. The building's emergency lights painted everything in bloody red. When they reached the stairwell door, Agatha grabbed Eve’s arm, spinning her around.

"No," Eve whispered, patting his cheek. "I'm an accountant with good aim."

"Got it," Eve said, pocketing a tiny drive. "Now for the final part."

"No more secrets," Agatha demanded, pressing her forehead close to Eve's. It was an intimate, threatening gesture. "After this. We're even. Or I swear to God, I'll find you."

"You're a monster," the warlord whimpered, blood seeping through his fingers.

Eve stepped back, closer to the shattered window where a zip-line rig was already anchored to the balcony. "The long con isn't over, Aggie. It just got a new mark. You're the decoy now. The security tapes will show Agatha Vega robbing the warlord. Agatha Vega, Viktor’s known associate. I was never here."

She turned to Agatha, and for a wild, hopeful moment, Agatha thought she saw an apology forming. Instead, Eve pressed a small, smooth object into Agatha’s palm. A spare key.