The balcony air still carried the words.
Now we've got a problem.
Caleb watched her stand at the railing, one gloved hand resting flat against the cold stone. The black dress moved against her ribs with each breath. The green strand in her dark hair caught the gala lights from below.
Her attention had moved off him and down to the lower foyer.
"Hassek's two minutes from the main staircase," she said. Her voice had dropped back to the operational register. The eleven-year revelation was gone, packed back into whatever compartment she kept it in. "If he sees us together up here, the rest of the night becomes a different problem."
Not because Hassek would know her face. Caleb understood that much. Recognition was not the danger. Pattern was. A trained enemy did not need her real name to weaponize the fact that Caleb had met a woman no sponsor badge explained on a private balcony.
"Then we split," Caleb said.
"Then we split."
