The voice came from inside the vault room. Behind him. It was cold and professional, the kind of tone that expected immediate compliance.
"Hands where I can see them."
Alex raised his hands slowly, keeping them visible above the laser grid that trapped him in place. His heart was hammering hard enough that he could feel it in his throat, but he forced his breathing to stay steady.
He heard footsteps behind him. They were measured and confident, getting closer with each step.
Then she moved into view.
Amara.
She was dressed in tactical gear that Alex hadn't seen her wear before. Dark pants that looked military grade. A fitted jacket with the presidential security insignia stitched onto the shoulder. Her brown hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail. And in her hands was a weapon, the barrel pointed directly at his chest with absolutely no tremor.
Her expression was hard. Professional. There was no recognition in her eyes at all when she looked at him.
