Page 58 of Rebel
“I know.”
We shift through another slow turn. People glitter and gossip, rich laughter clinks like ice. My heartbeat cranks up and refuses to come back down.
“Your hands are shaking,” he says softly.
“Yours isn’t.”
“It is,” he says, and it’s true. I feel it, the tiniest tremor against my spine. “Just not where anyone can see.”
We pass the table again.
Divine.“Fifty seconds. Secondary handshake initiated. Stand by for the passcode prompt. Gentry is wearing a biometric ring. I need his proximity within fifteen feet.”
“So the keycard gets us through the door,” Carter mumbles, “but that ring unlocks the system handshake.”
“Bring him to us,” I say.
“I can’t puppet a banker,”Divine snaps.“But I can light a fire under his ego.”
Somewhere across the ballroom, a donor’s phone explodes with a notification of breaking news about Emerge’s charitable initiatives. Heads turn. Gentry turns with them, drawn by his own name like a moth to money. He drifts exactly where we need him.
“Good girl,”French purrs.
“Say that again and I’m cutting your mic,”Divine says, but she sounds pleased.
All my sisters in my head is giving me a headache. I can’t imagine how Carter feels. But this is the way of the Royal Harlots. When one needs help, we all help.
Carter pivots me into a lilt that looks like flirtation and feels like cover. “Passcode on your three,” he whispers. “Watch the screen.”
A number pad winks into life on the embedded tablet under the table’s polished edge. Carter’s hand slides lower on my back, closer than a lie, warmer than I want to admit, and I forget the number for a heartbeat because his thumb draws one slow circle where silk ends and skin begins.
“I need you focused,” he says.
“I am focused,” I reply, and my voice is steady enough to make it true. “On the job.”
“Right.” He smiles that trouble smile. “On the job.”
The pad flashes. Six digits blossom in ghost-white, then fade. Muscle memory snaps. I tap the sequence with a fingertip as we pass, never breaking cadence.
Divine.“Got it. We’re in. Thirty seconds to mirror. Hold.”
“What exactly did we grab?” I whisper.
“Master passcodes, internal ledgers, black fund transfers, the whole rot,”Divine answers with excitement in her voice.“Enough to sink Emerge twice.”
We cross into the clear, out of sightlines, and I let my forehead drift toward Carter’s just enough to feel his breath. “We’re making a scene,” I say.
“We are the scene,” he states, and I hate that he’s right. We turn, and my body freezes, like a tide finding its moon.
Bones.
He’s on the mezzanine, shadow cutting him into sharper edges, suit off the rack, attention surgical. His right arm stays close to his side, movement tight. He’s hurt, but still deadly. Our eyes lock, and for a second, the ballroom drops away. He looks at me like he’s counting exits and sins. The skull on his back isn’t a patch tonight, it’s a choice.
“Carter,” I whisper.
He follows my gaze. The muscle in his jaw goes hard. His hand firms at my waist. “Of course he’s here.”
“Divine,” I breathe.
