The surveillance image froze on Matteo Moretti’s face.
For several seconds, no one in Luca’s suite moved.
The ballroom camera had captured Matteo turning toward Sarah as he pressed an envelope into her hand.
On his right index finger was the Moretti family ring, a heavy piece of silver engraved with a rose wrapped around a dagger.
Luca wore an identical ring.
He stood inches from the television, his shoulders rigid beneath his white shirt.
“Lock the floor,” he said.
Mara, the woman in the charcoal suit, touched the radio at her collar.
“Seal elevators, stairwells, service passages, and loading docks.
No one leaves without my authorization.”
The hotel manager hurried into the corridor.
A moment later, metal bolts slid into place somewhere beyond the suite.
I remained beside the bed, barefoot and still wearing my stained catering uniform.
My thoughts struggled to catch up with what I had seen.
Sarah had planted the phone.
Sarah had given me the key.
Sarah had accepted money from Luca’s cousin.
My best friend had not sent me upstairs to sleep.
She had delivered me into the center of an assassination attempt.
The burner phone rang in Mara’s hand.
Everyone looked at it.
Luca took the phone and answered on speaker without speaking.
A distorted voice filled the room.
“The girl missed the window.
Use her anyway.”
A red dot appeared on the wall beside my head.
Luca saw it before I did.
He crossed the space between us, caught me around the shoulders, and drove us both to the carpet.
A muted crack came from the window.
A thin white line spread across the glass.
Steel shutters dropped from the ceiling, covering the windows and turning the suite black until the emergency lights came on.
Mara was already shouting orders into her radio.
“Shooter on the east tower.
Trace the angle.
Move the guest downstairs under cover.”
“I’m not moving her anywhere,” Luca said.
Mara looked at him.
“This room has been compromised.”
“So have the elevators.”
As if summoned by his words, the private elevator chimed.
Three guns turned toward it.
The doors opened.
Sarah stumbled into the suite.
Her mascara had streaked down her cheeks, and one sleeve of her black catering jacket had been torn at the shoulder.
She clutched a red leather ledger against her chest.
“Don’t shoot,” she gasped.
I stared at her from the floor.
Sarah looked at me, and something in her expression collapsed.
“Elena.”
“Do not say my name.”
She flinched.
Luca rose and positioned himself between Sarah and me.
“What is that?” he asked.
Sarah held out the ledger with shaking hands.
A black wax seal stamped with the Moretti crest covered its clasp.
“He knows you saw the video,” she said.
“Matteo isn’t trying to escape.
He’s already inside the hotel with enough men to take it from you.”
Mara took the ledger but did not open it.
“How did you get through the elevator lockdown?”
“Matteo’s card still overrides the system.”
“Not anymore,” Mara said.
Sarah shook her head.
“He installed a second control unit during the renovation.
Your people don’t know about it.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“How do you?”
“Because he made me carry the access codes.”
The room went silent again.
I pushed myself to my feet.
My knees
